This is partially an ode to my favorite road trip pastime of sitting shotgun and pointing out places to pull off the road and gather wildflowers. And partially an ode to the ability to take photographs in a place that’s not four flights up and with dim, northern light. More specifically then, an ode to sunshine, very clean garages in small French villages, and godparents so generous to allow us the chance to bask in both (as well as their house more generally), and for a whole month. If my extreme sense of gratitude for this trip has not yet come across, let this be the post to do it.
And since wildflowers are the love language I most prefer, here’s a wild and whimsical bouquet of roadside beauties gathered and arranged yesterday afternoon while Faye and James were busy taking part in the time honored tradition of a snack at four pm. (There are some customs that take no time at all to adopt as your own.)
Since photographs of bouquets last longer than the flowers themselves, I’ve taken it upon myself to take too many photos of my disheveled chef-d’oeuvre. How else to capture the perfect crinkle of a wild French poppy? Or the bug-munched side of the daisy? Or the miniature perfection of a freshly plucked stem of Queen Anne’s Lace? Even the half-gone mustard is worth documenting—the missing petals making it more interesting to look at.
If ecstasy over foraged flowers is not a shared sentiment, understood. But perhaps then a shared enthusiasm for the art of making your space a bit more beautiful, and simply. Of the three real bits of advice that I ever have to offer, it’s this one that I think is most important: endeavoring to make a subtle change in the mood of a place with a bit of creativity and attention to detail. If it’s an ephemeral bit of beauty you add, then all the better. And free is better than that.
In the meantime, you’ll have to forgive me. Given access to this much open space and fleeting beauty, I’m bound to get a bit sentimental (not to mention flower happy). Without further ado: close-ups of French wildflowers, for your enjoyment. (And—forgive me—mostly for mine.)