Spring
Waking up to bright blue in the sky and sunny sunshine has me day dreaming about seasons changing in other parts of the world. I heard France is beautiful in the Spring time, that the tulips are vibrant and the cooler temperatures invite bedtimes with open windows. I imagine shuffling to a local bakery in ballet flats to buy buttery croissants for breakfast, stretching out with a bowl of garlic stuffed olives in a sunny spot with my love for lunch, snacking and kissing and forgetting everything that is waiting for us back home.
I found a girl in Florida who designs and sews Bohemia wear out of vintage fabrics and if I were to fly away to France I would pack only pieces that she made. I would buy soft knits from the local market as well. I’d wear maxi skirts to dine al fresco and crochet bikinis around the pool - even though it probably isn’t even warm enough to swim yet, I’d still make sure my fare winter skin soaked up all the Spring sunshine. I’d pack light make up and let my hair go wild curly the entire time I was away. I would visit the sea and breathe in huge gulps until my belly was full of salty air.
I’m imagining all the colors that would be blooming in the perfumy gardens. The sunsets with jewel box houses on the horizon. The buttery meals and slower pace. The morning coffee strolls through laneways where friendly cats flop over onto cobble stone and entice my fingers to tickle and belly scratch before they scamper off between the legs of chattering voices who speak their romantic language. France in the Spring time would be so nice. Maybe one day, until then I’ll keep dreaming.
