Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Joyeux Quatorze Juillet

Walter and I always wished that we could have managed to be in Paris, or anywhere in France, for Quatorze Juillet, or Bastille Day as we know it in English. We could afford once a year, and that in the spring, when prices and temperatures were kinder, but we'd always heard great things about the joy of the community celebration. 

We admired the way that dead soldiers were in the national consciousness.

We were moved by the ready understanding that loss and grief are part of life.


We were tickled by the way that the Eiffel Tower peeked in and out and around public life in Paris, enjoyed and mocked, ready to be bought by tourists who were not us.


So much pleasure in the reliable breakfast in the local café, where the waiter greeted us with "Bonjour madam, m'sieur, comme d'habitude?" [Good morning, folks, the usual?]

We adored the way people of all ages met in public for deep conversation. Probably these two were also 'comme d'habitude'.


I was tickled all to hell that the French national bird (unofficially) is the rooster, symbol of an agricultural nation where food matters.



We'd always heard that the local fire departments threw parties for their neighborhoods, with music, food, wine, and dancing. I'd have loved to have taken part in one of those, especially with Walter in his better days.







You can find the French flag, displayed sparingly and respectfully, not draped around people's asses and plooped on their heads. Le Petit Nicolas was the bearer of the security of the French middle class for many years.



Happy birthday, France. Happy birthday, nation of Méthode D, of making things work, of looking out for as many as possible, young and old, of endless discussion and veneration of mathematics, of belles lettres, of living well every day.

Friday, July 10, 2020

Peak of peeks



Recently my stats have shown me improbable peaks from many countries. Portugal! Azerbaijan! Turkmenistan! Romania! and glimpses from Russia, France, Great Britain (a name hated by my Scottish co-grandma, who prefers "United Kingdom", much as she quibbles with United, because at least there is no privileging of Britain), Germany, and, the Czech Republic. If perhaps not improbable, these are certainly unexpected. Not that I'm not delighted to see such visits, because I love the notion that this blog has a broad appeal to a narrow selection of people who live all over. Also an opportunity to use my favorite figure of speech, litotes.

Winter mountains, SoCal


Snow on the Rockies, from 35,000 ft


Snow on Mount Baldy, and how it got there


New snow on the San Gabriels



Saturday, July 4, 2020

Bourne on the Fourth

flag in mourning

bedraggled flag


Oath:  an echo

 Allege obedience to the flagging

 Untied States. We’re America,

 toothless Republicans

 with bad-faith hands. Armageddon? Oh my god.

 Almost risible,

 this gibbering injustice. Free fall.