Although we normally live rather quietly, for seven out of the last ten days we’ve either had guests, sometimes two sets of guests in a single day, or been guests ourselves. And the coming week promises to be more of the same, invitations every single day. I love having guests, and I love being invited, but today, I confess that I’m glorying in having no invitations at all. It’s about 90° outside and the pool is perfect. That’s all it takes to make my day.
Even though I’ve been swimming for a week already, I’m still getting used to using my shoulder again. And the water’s been pretty chilly, until a couple of days ago. But now I can swim with a certain amount of ease, and the water’s perfect. I’ve already been swimming twice today and it’s not even mid-afternoon. More laps are in my future, and I’m in my own sort of rapture, which doesn’t in the least involve leaving this beautiful planet.
I’ve discovered a nest of baby birds that I can watch while I’m swimming. The parent birds cleverly built their nest in an old bird cage which hangs in the pool cabana, and as I approach their end of the pool I can see three little heads bobbing up and down inside the cage. The parents fly in and out with tidbits and I marvel at their devotion. The babies will have to climb out of the cage before they can attempt to fly, and I wonder if they’ll give it a try before we leave here, in only a few days.
I also wonder about other important things, like whether a Pastis or a glass of rosé goes better with swimming, which, of course, is something that can only be determined by experimentation. I wonder why I pay to have my hair colored brown, when the fierce sun of the south turns it to blond in a matter of days. We’re waiting for the electrician and I wonder whether he’ll catch me nude and dripping wet, and whether I should offer him a swim when he arrives. We have enough electrical problems here that we almost know him, but not quite. Still, it’s very hot, he must need a swim too.
It’s amazing to discover that thinking about things like that can take up a whole day, in between the swimming. Having a perfectly private pool all to myself on a really hot day is my idea of bliss, and having nothing serious to think about or do, on the same day, is the real rapture. La vie est belle, there’s just no other way to say it.Explore posts in the same categories: At Home In France comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.