Tuesday, but it could be any day before departure

I'm still grading. Really. A handful to go and yet I put them off. As if I don't want to be done with school work!

And I could have finished. If I hadn't, for example, decided that we should do some major tree pruning out back, by the barn.

Or if I hadn't shifted my attention to printing out google maps of various destinations.

Never mind, it's to be expected. The last 24 hours before travel are always scattered and terribly confusing.

But, there was breakfast. Calm, beautiful breakfast. On the porch (despite the nip in the air).






And there was the walk through the farmette, this time to look at all the things that I will never see bloom. It really is remarkable that I love to plant predominantly for June/July even as I am never here in June. I may catch the little dianthus...





But I miss most of the peonies.





I do get even the latest lilac...





And the geranium (cranesbill) looks good right about now...





But really, 90% of my flowers are still maturing. And of those, as many as 25% will bloom and be done by the time I come back.





And so perhaps it will not surprise you when I say that this is probably the last time we'll be leaving for a long trip in June. Which is good, from the point of view of farnette enjoyment, but it means, too, that I feel compelled, more than ever, to take it all in: the quiet of the preseason in southern France. The long days and the cool evenings.  My most favorite village, Sorede, at a time when nothing is dry or spent, when  each day is warmer and longer and the festivals begin. When evening walks make you believe that every minute of life is a treasure.

So, by Saturday we will again, for the fourth year in a row take that first highway exit once you cross the border from Spain into France and look for the road that takes us into the heart of the hills by the Mediterranean. There will be a couple of days in Spain before and some more esoteric travels after, but really, my eye is on Sorede. So that I can shed the stress of worrying about, well, everything. So that I can breathe that sweet air of the Mediterranean forest and climb the mountains that taper off as they fold toward the sea.

Okay, that's later this week. Today, Ed and I hack away at tree limbs and ear a late supper of all the foods I need to cook before our departure.






Tomorrow we leave and of course you understand that posting will be on a different schedule. Everything will be on a different schedule. And that's a good thing.