There is a delicious odor wafting from the bright and cheery kitchen; fresh soup simmering, cookies baking. It is pouring rain outside, and when you step out, you can smell the smoke from the fireplaces. This is my favorite time of year...or at least it looks and smells like it. I first arrived in France in the autumn and the smell of wet pine and hearth fires always brings back happy memories from that time.
Except it is June. Not November. I am writing this in case to whom it may concern may be listening. Hey, we managed to get here during the summer, that means beach weather, camping, eating outdoors every day, sunshine required. It's been years and years since I was here in the summer. I am not complaining, just explaining the agenda.
In the meantime, I love needing a down comforter up to my ears at night, wearing jeans and sweaters and smelling the smoke and pine needles when I step outside.
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