It is the day after a longest day. A day of traversing timezones and crossing continents and oceans. So here I am in my own timezone feeling a little like I’ve been run over by a car. Nothing another cup of tea won’t cure. And a few more nights of sleep.
My body could also be going through butter withdrawal. Or cured meat overload. Or post-paté panic.
Only a few days ago the skies of Paris shone kindly on us after days of rain. We wandered from the top of the city at Sacre Coeur to the river banks of the Seine.
It’s a world away, but still fresh in mind (and belly). But it’s good to be home with the grass greening, leaves unfurling, and the fresh bloom of violets sprinkled through the lawn.
I didn’t expect the violets.