Our last day in Paris, and I’ve spent an hour or so scribbling postcards to you — Paris through my eyes in a sunny November week. Just a few quick images, a few accompanying words. My idiosyncratic impressions. Hope you enjoy. . .
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Most of our walking this trip has been on concrete or asphalt, surrounded by all the sights and sounds of a busy city. But last weekend we were treated to a day trip. . . a satisfying and fascinating walk along an old Etruscan pathway, through woods and fields, along a burbling stream, on a carpet of forest duff decorated with cyclamen and mushrooms. . . . And, as usual, I may have taken too many photos. . .
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I’d love to do better than scrawl a hasty postcard to you, but we’ve been busy and, after all, the priority for now is spending time with “the kids” — daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter. We…
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We’re back in Paris, elated to be here again. And also exhausted, épuisés, by the reality of travel. Grateful but honestly, as the adrenaline leaves our systems, a bit flat. . . The restorative solution? Getting outside, moving, observing, filling all the senses. . . . The simple pleasures of slow travel, in fact.
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Busy with preparations for my upcoming trip to Europe — among those preparations an important consideration being “what books to download for plane and train reading? — I’m finally posting my September Reading. Some fine memoirs for you, two tense mysteries, one tough but important work of documentary fiction, and two literary novels with domestic or family themes.
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