#equemauville

[thunderstruck9]

Félix Vallotton (Swiss, 1865-1925), Maisons à Equemauville [House in Equemauville], 1913. Oil on canvas, 73.5 x 100.5 cm.

[huariqueje]

Maisons à Equemauville,  Houses in  Equemauville  -    Félix Vallotton , 1913.

Swiss, 1865-1925

Oil on canvas,  73.5 x 100.5 cm. (28.9 x 39.6 in.)

[lmbenav]

Travel Journal: In a French Garden

06/23/16. Equemauville, France.

It’s morning - not too early - and I’m sitting in a French countryside garden basking in the calm, sunny greeting of the day after a tumulus night storm. A siamese cat just walked up to me to meow and push the top of his head against my dangling hand.

How do I describe this beautiful place? It’s a dreamy half-timbered cottage with vintage wood furniture, but its specialty is the backyard. Beyond the small deck with a table and chairs is a well-trimmed lot that extends far back. It’s a pretty sizable clearing that ends in a wall of tall bushes and a hill peaking out from behind. There’s a cherry tree behind me, a small pond to the right of me - with a strawberry plant growing right alongside it! - a pair of wooden swings further down, and a couple of sheds.

All I can hear right now - except the sound of my scribbling pen onto paper - are the leaves of the trees being rustled all around me, waves of invisible force spiraling above my head, every now and then catching a strand of my hair. The birds are whistling the sweet morning songs all around, different versions of the same greeting to the sun. Nothing else moves but the breathing of nature, and here I sit in the middle of it all: an intruder, an observer, an enjoyer. 

The high-pitched bells of a nearby church are ringing. It’s time for humanity to wake up.