Provence in Autumn is:
A dramatic blue sky highlighted with a storm rolling in,
Vineyards colorful leaves waving their last farewell as they prepare for a winter's sleep,
The smell of truffles, dried figs and the boar's tracks.
The summer crowd of tourist are gone,
the stones glisten and glow from the early morning frost,
Church bells echo,
The early morning hunters gather at the cafe to talk shop, while their dogs snooze on the steps.
The vines show their paths along the old stones.
Like veins holding on to life.
The mistral sings, I wrap my wool scarf around my neck.
The morning chill fades with the day.
French Husband stood like a Juliette calling for her Romeo,
Though in this case he drank in the view.
Picnics give way to fireplaces,
Melon to chestnuts,
Rose wine to Beaujolais,
Cherries to Clementines,
Autumn in Provence is as if looking between two worlds...
The one of yesterday and the one of today.
You might think, "But Corey? The in between of yesterday and today doesn't exist?"
In which I would reply, "Yes, it is a small vast amazing space."
Early evenings that call for long conversations,
Red wine, fire and bundling up under blankets.
Oh Autumn morning at Crilion le Brave.