Sunday 17 February 2013

Springtime Postcard From Saint Savinien

My wonderful home.
I cannot hide my joy at just being alive here in France. Springtime is special of course, wherever you are. It represents something of a forgiveness to me - that the great generous heart of the universe has  once again let me have its warmth. Surely, this is how pagan folk must have felt.

Brave tiny blooms - your beauty is stronger than my self important life
Oh - thank you thank you for your gorgeous push and pulse

I set out into Saint Savinien with my camera to take some pix of the first push of Spring. Oooh - it made me feel quite frisky - and at my risky. God knows how many progeny I would have borne if I'd not lived in Republic Bar of  Urbania.  Springtime in South London was when they changed the revolving lamb kebab lump-a-stuff in the Istanbul Delite Tonite Takeaway window.  Here, the season pushes out its cry of new life. It's orgasmic and I love it! 

So, all in all it's romantic novelist and poet goes OTT with vernal lust. Here are a few images:
Reach and reach and reach and reach. I offer only my open shouting beauty. I AM ALIVE.


You just cannot beat these simple little blooms. I think of them as cherub kisses planted with a wink. Oh - joy joy joy!

Emma Thinx: Life sometimes shit. You always seed. GROW!


  1. I've said it before. I'll say it again. What a beautiful place in which you live. I felt the same way when I lived in Vancouver, British Columbia. Beauty can never be overrated. It IS stupendous. Thanks for this sneak preview of spring with all your passion included.

  2. Thanks Christine. I've just been down to the bakery for fresh warm bread. The sky is an impossible pure blue. Croissants and coffee to start the day....xx


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