The End of Summer . . .

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Slipping in here very late at the end of James Reflections Weekend, I didn't want to miss it, but as the Grenouille and our tadpoles got back from vacation this weekend, we had plenty of catching up to do. So here are a few more photos taken inside that lovely old house out in Brittany written about a couple of posts down here. Reflections illuminated by light that may have been bouncing around in there for two hundred years now. Where does the light go finally ? What is light ??? Particles ? Waves ? Magic ?
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Mirrors within mirrors caught by a photographer's dark lens . . .
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And looking out the windows of that home, perhaps even reflected in the windowpanes, are various views of water dotted with boats, or rarely, on a hot day in August, a beach dotted with the colors of people on vacation, doing all the things that people do . . .
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If there was a piece of music that I might include here with these images, it would be this, especially for the line in it where he sings :
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"In my heart there's an image
Like looking through glass
Could be looking at me
Could be looking right past
I don't like it when
I can't tell which is true
But I wouldn't trade the world
For that picture of you"
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Bruce Cockburn ; A Bone In My Ear . . .
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