Celebrating the season
It truly is spring at last. I've been lucky enough to have a variety of little errands to run over the last few days that have taken me out and about in the Possum Kingdom. If you take the same road, two days in a row, it's amazing to see how much change occurs overnight.
One of the great things of this time of year is seeing how all the different bits of the countryside have their own unique colors. You see bands of still brown fields, bands of new green grass and crops, trees that are bare, but starting to get their soft green buds, trees that are covered in pink, white or yellow blossoms, and flowers of all colors, white, yellow, purple, blue. And, of course, the snow covered mountains still towering over all. It's a bit like living inside a painting.
While it has been sunny and warm during the day, we had a bit of rain last night. But this wasn't the cold, biting rain of winter. This was the soft rain of spring, scented with that special odor that you only seem to find in the spring; a blend of new earth, flowers and moisture. It's an odor that leaves you feeling in no hurry to get back inside.
In our little corner of the world, all this newness makes you forget the outside world. But, sadly, it's still there. And, in France it continues to be an unrestful world. The strikes and demonstrations continue, while the government seems to be holding fast to its resolve to keep the new employment law in place. We're awaiting a speech by President Chirac this evening to see what he plans to do.
And, while we feel removed from it a bit here, it has consequences that ripple outward. People are talking about the kind of unrest that was last seen in 1968 and which brought down the government. Another general strike is planned for next Tuesday; we were supposed to go to Pennautier for JM to give comic book workshop, but that's been rescheduled. Anyone traveling finds him or herself in a web of uncertainty: will the trains, planes and ferries be running? It's anyone's guess.
Ciao for now!
Randy
One of the great things of this time of year is seeing how all the different bits of the countryside have their own unique colors. You see bands of still brown fields, bands of new green grass and crops, trees that are bare, but starting to get their soft green buds, trees that are covered in pink, white or yellow blossoms, and flowers of all colors, white, yellow, purple, blue. And, of course, the snow covered mountains still towering over all. It's a bit like living inside a painting.
While it has been sunny and warm during the day, we had a bit of rain last night. But this wasn't the cold, biting rain of winter. This was the soft rain of spring, scented with that special odor that you only seem to find in the spring; a blend of new earth, flowers and moisture. It's an odor that leaves you feeling in no hurry to get back inside.
In our little corner of the world, all this newness makes you forget the outside world. But, sadly, it's still there. And, in France it continues to be an unrestful world. The strikes and demonstrations continue, while the government seems to be holding fast to its resolve to keep the new employment law in place. We're awaiting a speech by President Chirac this evening to see what he plans to do.
And, while we feel removed from it a bit here, it has consequences that ripple outward. People are talking about the kind of unrest that was last seen in 1968 and which brought down the government. Another general strike is planned for next Tuesday; we were supposed to go to Pennautier for JM to give comic book workshop, but that's been rescheduled. Anyone traveling finds him or herself in a web of uncertainty: will the trains, planes and ferries be running? It's anyone's guess.
Ciao for now!
Randy
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