14 July 2010
Summer mornings are at the top of my list of favourite times of year. I rise when the owls are going to sleep, but when other birds are just waking up. The warm stillness when there is no one else about. The lick of dew on shrubs. New garden spider webs spanning the walkways. The red morning glow of the sun behind the distant mountains. The striking mix of rich brown, khaki, red, and green of the foothills. The hills are not like white elephants, as Hemingway would say, but rather like a collection of limited edition original twill from Bills Khakis. But even in the tranquility of deep summer there is a black mark. Every year July 14, or Bastille Day, seems to appear at the same place in the calendar, much to my frustration, and despite my best efforts. At Schloss von AC it is not a day of celebration, it is a day of mourning. I wear a pair of Weejuns, black boxers, and a generous smile on my face, as a tribute to the counter-revolution. How do you mark the occasion?
Posted by Laguna Beach Fogey at 06:14