Tuesday, 1 July 2008

Trédaniel plan d'eau, afternoon

'the languor of noontide that gathered the thunder...'

It must rain soon.

Scent of rugosa roses, buddleia, and cut grass drying, a frog croaks at the water's edge, warm breezes.


Sheila said...

How I miss living in the country! I read your posts here and wonder why i don't just get outside now....and then I realize it's because I don't want to be near a street, with traffic. I want fields and woods and sky and birds and bugs, without sight or sound of cars, or other people....

Withdrawal pains! Help me!

Bee said...

Languor: such a sensuous word.

Always that heavy stillness and heat before a summer storm starts to build.