A door has been re-hinged and re-hung, a rotting frame replaced and window frames painted. A smell of new paint hangs in the house, and we have the house to ourselves.
Last year's parsley, the herb, which moderates the taste of fish and meat with its verdant, vegetable scent and bitter charm, is in leaf again, and cutting a large bunch for the kitchen, is today's greatest pleasure. I smell the parsley (the flat leaf variety, which I usually grow) as I write the word.
After reading Marcel Pagnol's Childhood Memories, I watch again on DVD the two films which he made in the Provencal countryside or his childhood - Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources. I enjoy them all the more because the scenary and the rural life depicted is what I have just left in the pages of the four books, which the Memories comprise.
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