The Rose Festival
This morning we took a short drive to the tiny village of Camon. Roses are in bloom everywhere in this part of the country, and today Camon (population 150 residents and 400 rose bushes), held its annual Rose Festival. People were carrying out wagons full of rose plants to put in their gardens and lots of other flowers, too. The walls of the town houses had rose vines creeping up over their doors and the fragrance was intoxicating. Since we have no where to plant flowers (yet), we settled for a bunch of fresh asparagus and a pint of strawberries that were almost too beautiful to eat (almost). I have to say, Bill has taken to driving through these narrow and confusing roads like a champion--a FRENCH champion (which is to say that they don't let the pedestrians hugging the curbside sidewalk slow them down, nor do the endless roundabouts and single-lane 2-way roads). But the real star today was the weather: 80 degrees, a slight breeze and not a cloud in the sky. Unfortunately, somewhere between Camon and Verniolles, I hit my wall and the months of stress and insomnia caught up with me. A long, luxurious nap stole the rest of my afternoon--and I'm not even a little upset about it.




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