Bows and flows of Angels hair ….
The weather recently has been a roller-coaster so it was no surprise that driving to Grenoble yesterday, setting off before dawn that it was in fog reminiscent of a threadbare coat … thick in places, worn so thin that you can almost see through it in others. Headlights are difficult in such conditions … the light bounces back at you if they are lifted but doesn’t give much help when dipped and other peoples, particularly the lorries that are sharing the road at that silly hour of the morning are distracting and tiring on eyes that are still struggling to come to terms with working efficiently when they should still be shut in slumber. The drive winds perpetually and scales up and down the steep gorges. I won’t deny that I was ragged when we got to Polignac, and my reward felt just … the fortress sitting on its rocky table rising out of the feather mattress of softest white clouds below it was spectacular. I thought of Joni Mitchell as she looked at clouds from up and down and wondered if she had ever seen this ice-cream castle in the air. She should. It is heavenly. Reward, by the way, is the title of the Daily Press photo challenge this week … you can see all the other interpretations here
PS: It’s a standing joke between HB² and I that whenever I take the wheel on a long journey the weather conspires against me. Two Brains drove the second half of the journey down in bright sunshine and on the way back last night the sky was clear. Until Brioude when we swapped and the fog engulfed me and only lifted for the sky to spit hail-stones that bounced on the road like a shower of polystyrene balls.
