Wending our way back to the island today, by car and then ferry and then our trusty commuter boat, and finally loading my luggage and our groceries onto our bikes for the last kilometre. A good way to counteract the magic of flight. The effects of jet lag are lessening: I managed to stay in bed ’til 4:30 this morning, although noon-ish, before my nap, and then again about 8p.m. I feel like this
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| Staircase on my Vancouver running route |
Except without the flowers…
As for flowers, though, I’m excited to see what my garden’s got up to in the last two weeks. For the last 6 or 7 years, we’ve been away for at least 3 weeks at this time of year, sometimes up to 6, and although those have been great trips, I always regret leaving the garden behind at such an important time in its cycle. I’m expecting great things from the roses and clematis…..
Meanwhile, here’s a photo of a delightful garden blooming amidst busy traffic near the Right Bank side of Paris’ Pont Louis-Philippe.
I love this cultivated effect of a wildflower meadow, achieved so lushly. Here in Vancouver, a city of wonderful gardens, I spotted a few wildflowers on my run Sunday morning in slightly more natural conditions…
Lupins…
And roses (Nootka roses, Rosa Nutkana, to use the slightly amusing Latin hort. term)
And the buttercups, above, of course.
following their lead, I’m heading home to bloom where I’m planted, for the next little while, at least. Do you enjoy this transition period from vacation back to regular life? I’ll be posting some reflections on my trip over the next few days, mostly aimed at working through how the different perspective lets me understand differently the patterns I’m sometimes too close to see. Have you found that travel offers you that? Or are you usually just too caught up in jet lag, trip fatigue, and catching up with working life to be able to ponder much at all?
Of course, I’ll also be posting some not-so-contemplative posts, sharing a bonne addresse or two and showing you my Flea Market finds, some eye candy windows, and so on. Stay tuned….meanwhile, please leave a comment if you have a minute. You know I love to hear from you.
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My transition is increasingly given over to dealing with jet lag- a good 5 or 6 days on last month's return. Only once that malaise has lifted can I savour memories. The contrast between Montréal and Paris is of course evident, but there are enough culinary and cultural commonalities that I feel less contrast than when I lived in Toronto. And always feel happy to be home again.
Jet lag is horrid — even worse, of course, this side of the continent, although at least the worst fatigue hits in the afternoon when I feel reasonable in taking a nap. Interesting what you say about the transition from Paris to Montréal being smoother than that to Toronto. Here the change is potentially shocking to the system, but it's so beautiful coming back in spring and summer — the contrast throws both places into such relief, in a good way, generally. Much harder for me, though, to find ways to keep my francophone self alive. . . .
I find myself tired after the travel days. I realize from my Oaxacan time how much "waste" there is in our Canadian life. The cultural pursuits are also less available in our daily life.
Yes, I think it must be tough to come back from a country with less material/consumer indulgence. Even our experience in rural Portugal and Italy made us more conscious of that difference. And the shopping that replaces the cultural pursuits. . . .hope you're adjusting — there's not much time change, is there?
My garden is in full bloom and such a delight to see after being away for three weeks in France…it's lovely to have beauty such surround us as we get over jet lag…and the sun is shining too!
Hard to imagine better weather to come back home to! But the weeding! 😉
yep, I frequently return from trips with newly made decisions (to retire, one time….), clarified plans or resolutions – distance helps.
And yes, spring/summer/fall returns are greatly enhanced by the garden (except when its been suffering a drought, which used to happen with August trips).
And yes, again, tired after trips, we build in "recovery days" which make it easier to look forward to getting home.
Happy trails, as always,
Ceci
Distance is more likely to bring on resolutions than New Year's, right?
We've never been away during August — perfect swimming weather here — but the garden would be very dried out if we did.
And I cannot imagine having to go back to work the day after a trans-Atlantic flight, although my husband had to for years, and my sister was back yesterday. . .
Transitions from vacation to real life usually take one of two paths – either a long list of lovely things I'd like to do at home which rarely come to pass, or an intention or two made to enjoy life in a specific way, such as beginning a meal with a salad like we enjoyed in France quite a few years ago. That one stuck, although not every day.
I hope you are enjoying this lovely, lovely weather and that your garden is filling you with delight.
Yes! I remember we blog-chatted about this last year, didn't we? What little practices or foods or other elements we bring into our daily lives from a trip. . . Isn't it a magical time in the garden here?! I feel so lucky to have one!
Enjoy the transition. I think I am slowly coming to appreciate the process of transition in and of itself, not necessarily willingly at first, but nonetheless gradually learning that there is much to be learned and savored in these times.
Yes, I've been really enjoying your writing about this process. Shedding skins, watching what emerges. . . .
It seems like you just arrived in France yesterday and here you are back home already. I'm glad you have transition time – I agree that it gives a fresh perspective on routines and where we've been/are going.
It was quick! My sister could only spare a week's vacation. . . .
I always find it poignant when I unpack and find things that I have just stuffed into my bag at the last moment – shampoo and moisturiser from hotels, little things I happened upon. A tiny origami crane from a hotel in Tokyo last year still sits in my bedroom and it tugs my heart. It's like there are two lives and one got left behind. My holiday me is often a nicer version than the everyday me. I miss her sometimes. The wonders of intercontinental travel…
It's those little things — makes me wonder how/why people shop so deliberately for souvenirs when it's oddly unpredictable what will conjure up that place and time. The parallel life, mostly unlived, by this version of us, at least. . . .Time to break out the quantum physics. . .
Welcome home and enjoy your garden, just as we shall enjoy hearing what you will share of your time in Paris
Thanks, Ceri. There will be sharing . . .