Home sick today. Slightly better than yesterday when I was confined to bed (slept 6 daytime hours, then 9 last night!) and bathroom.
Thought a quick post might be a diversion and give me the illusion of some company. Paul’s headed off to Vancouver where he’s got a couple of baby-sitting gigs — worried about leaving me, but he’s got the kitchen well stocked for when my appetite returns, and really, the young moms and the wee ones need him more than I do. And the noble martyr role is almost as satisfying as that of the poor sickabed calling for a bucket or a tissue. . . .
Anyway. . . .I’ve started playing around on Instagram and one of the people I’ve been following is currently visiting Nice. She’s been posting the loveliest, cheeriest watercolours throughout her trip, and the other day, she posted a photo of a charming house in Nice, creamy stone adorned by soft mint shutters.
I was immediately reminded of homes that we saw sporting this combination when we drove through the Médoca few years ago. Such a pretty combination, and repeated so often throughout the region, that I had to stop and take a picture.
Honestly, I could move in tomorrow. Isn’t this sweet? And so obviously well cared for. Does anyone know the architectural term for those diamond windows? Thanks so much to my Parisian friend, Jennifer, for advising me that these are lucarnes, a term that seems to translate to mean a variety of dormer windows, with particular names according to the particular architectures. Lucarnes seem often to be as much about ventilation as about light, and I had discarded them as a possibility because the house seems too low to justify that, its roof so shallow. But I’m pleased to have a name to associate with them . . . I also want to call them “lozenges” because of the diamond shape, and this seems to be a term widely used in architectural history/historical architecture — any contraindications I should know about? Wikipedia, btw, hosts a fascinating site (en français) onlucarnes. Life offers so many tempting rabbit holes of information one could disappear into, no?
Back to bed now, for me. Hope your week has begun more promisingly than mine.
Oh dear, get well soon … and nothing wrong with being the noble martyr! Pater will be even more solicitous on his return!
Maybe not. . . turns out he's come down with it and is hunkered down in our Vancouver apartment. . .
Oh no. Take good care of yourself. I don't know the name for those pretty windows, but the whole building is attractive. I would love to move in there for a week or a year!
Isn't it sweet? Yes, I could do months, at least. . .
Feel better soon. Noble martyr and time alone are not so bad;).
Thank you
That is such a pretty house. I could live there too. You have a lot going on right now so maybe the alone time (with provisions) is a good thing. I hope that you feel better.
Thanks, Madame.
Oh sorry to hear that you are ill.
that home just oozes charm and I know not what those wee windows are called.
Take care.
TY
Sorry you are unwell but…your enquiry about the windows cost me a good hour or so on the intertubes. To no avail. There appears to be no name for these pretty loft vents. I think that it what they are.
Pernickity. So what? Sleep well.
I wondered, too, if they might be loft vents rather than windows — if I'd thought about it at the time I could have checked whether they were mesh-screened or had glass in them. . .
It's funny, isn't it, that despite the wondrous information apparently available online, sometimes we can't find what we want. A good research librarian or some crowd-sourcing might do the trick, I suppose, but otherwise, yes, hours down the (inter)tubes. . . TY for looking.
Annie, see the note I've added above — does it work for you? Crowd-sourcing, for the win!