We spent a week or so in the French Alps. Somewhere near Grenoble, not far from Switzerland and Italy and quite close to the sky. It was already a month ago, but the mountains don’t change. The hundred years old stone house we stayed at doesn’t change much neither. It serves well as a cozy cave when the sun is burning outside. But all the beauty is OUT there. Fields and mountains.
The beauty is actually UP there, so you always feel like flying. You spread your arms, open your fingers, even though the jacket is your only wings.
And when you land it’s so green here. Green like in childhood, when grass was higher than you. Green like the hypnotizing eyes of the local cat.
Then you turn your eyes to another side and it’s all red and flowers are higher than the mountains. You’d fall asleep there.
Believe it or not, it’s a perfect place not only to dream, but also to work. No disturbances, no distractions, no nearby places to walk to, or people nearby to meet. The nearest village with a shop and bar is 10 km away. But still, the life is modern here. In this six house village, an hour of driving narrow mountain roads from the big city, there is Internet. Perfect for working under the red umbrella with the mountains in the view.
When not working we were eating. You know, it’s France. And French. No day without fabulous cheese and wine. For snack, for aperitif, with food and after food. Then imagine, you don’t have bread and the nearest shop is 10km away. But here it is, an old stone oven, which takes just 4 hours to heat. But isn’t it worth it? We made it three times a week! Pizza was a wonderful side effect.
Another side effect – great pies with cherries from a tree just across the doorstep. Running around barefoot to pick up some fresh berries, mmm, the goodness of life.
Clouds almost land on the ground here. Almost. You could run and catch and take them back, cold and humid for a refreshing bath in this blazing sun. But it’s too far away and too beautiful to interfere.
If clouds almost descend, mountains really do, after the rain. The top of the world fits in a small puddle.
We’re lazy people. A tad bit. But not that lazy, to enjoy these peaks only from far away. So here we go, up the road, following our shadows in the blazing sun.
And then up and up. When it seems you’re higher than the rocky peaks, you’re still not that high.
But such views are worth all the sweat, and a decent break.
Some rest and we go again. The path becomes rocky, the sky comes nearer. Green forest is replaced by a few blossoming trees and near the top the leaves of a lonely tree are just emerging. We’re back to spring.
And then on top of OUR peak a yellow soft carpet awaits. An unexpected welcome.
Perfect for a well deserved rest. And lunch.
And maybe some reading. As crazy as it seems, I carry a book even to the mountain peak. All this extra weight in case my legs refused to walk further and I’d stay behind the others to rest in the midway with the book and wonderful mountain view. But no, my legs didn’t refuse to walk, the peak was calling.
A proper mountain needs a proper flag,
just to stay on its own in the wind.
Or even better, many flags. And a proper waving!
A self-portrait in the mountains
and it’s time to leave the icy peaks and head down, certainly with sad expressions.
Back to the ground, this nice old fella suits very well curvy mountain roads. At least visually.
Practically, it needs some manual support sometimes.
Though what’s the use of the car if the road may be blocked by sheep, escaping the summer heat to the higher grounds. Almost like us.
Even if there are no mountains and no sheep around, the flowers may blossom even in the car reflections.
Sunshine, smiles and mountains to all!
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