Un matin au tout début du printemps…
An early spring morning…



et le 2 avril, la neige arriva…
and suddenly on April 2nd, it snowed…


La salle de bain a toujours besoin de la douceur des bougies le matin. J’en consomme un stock comme au XVIIIème siècle. Mars…, après une semaine de soleil, la neige est arrivée du jour au lendemain. Ce phénomène n’était parait-il pas si rare par le passé, mais c’est la première fois que j’assiste à cette soudaineté. Heureusement, la spirée blanche est en fleurs, toujours exubérante et romantique, sa générosité est contagieuse. Un grand bouquet blanc a inspiré ce réveil à la campagne au tout début du printemps pour le post annuel sur la salle de bain aménagée dans l’ancien grenier.
The bathroom always needs the sweetness of candles in the morning. I consume them in numbers as in the eighteenth century. March…, after a week of sunshine, the snow came overnight. It seems that this was not so rare in the past, but it is the first time that I have witnessed this sudden phenomenon. Fortunately the white spirea is in bloom, always exuberant and romantic, its generosity is contagious. A large white bouquet inspired this ‘awakening in the countryside’at the very beginning of spring’ for the annual post on the bathroom fitted out in the attic.











As an American living in the desert southwest where we just have newer suburban homes, your post brings tears to my eyes. I would love to live in a home as beautiful and full of history as yours. Just imagining who hewed those beams and floor planks, who placed those rocks, etc., is just fascinating. Your bathroom is gorgeous and perfect!
Thank you so much for your sensitive comment Joanie. You have summed up really well how I was feeling in front of the beams and old planks every day myself. It seems we are into the same ‘time traveling’ need!
I am the kind of animal for whom a house is never old enough. Although new places bear an obvious attractiveness (spick and span surfaces and omg modern fully equipped kitchen…), it disappears after half an hour and transforms into a feeling of discomfort.
Years ago, an English neighbor helped me uncover the stones and saw little shells in them, realizing that they were a prehistoric legacy of times when this part of the continent was under the sea. He was shocked and moved because he had always worked with bricks in England. I remember this anecdote when I am fed up with the stone walls rusticity.
Un regal ces superbes photos et ambiances raffinees bravo
Ah merci, ça fait du bien votre commentaire !!
Merci pour ce joli post. Tout respire la tranquillité chez vous ! C’est très joli…
Bertille
Merci Bertille, les bougies sont allumées ce matin, le temps est au gris et le chats sont sur le lit, absolument comme dans ce post. Bonne journée !