A Day For Quiet Contemplation . . .

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My job has been keeping me more than busy of late, and I regret not being out and about in the blogosphere more than I have been, but one must at times sleep, and at times relax. This past weekend I went for a walk in a local cemetery that I hadn't looked at closely in the past, simply to get out and breathe some fresh air and clear the head of cobwebs.
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In such places I find peace and quiet, and ample matter for consideration and reflection on the vicissitudes of life. One can learn about acceptance in cemeteries, acceptance of what is cruel and hard in the world, acceptance that we do not last forever, that there are some things that we can do absolutely nothing to change, and in accepting certain realities, one can perhaps better appreciate what we do have, and then make the most of it. And I love what graveyards reveal about history, about those who have gone before, who would otherwise lie forgotten, were it not for words carved on a stone, for a simple work of art created in memory of a departed soul. Even stones do not last forever, and as stones return to sand and dust, so do bones, so do bones.
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In this first, the sky and cross reflected on the surface of a glass globe serve to remind that James' Weekend Reflections is in progress.
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Daniel Camus passed on in 1920 at the age 7 years 7 months. After surviving the hardships of the war years, then the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1919 (which killed more people than the Great War did), his tombstone does not say what he died of. Angels Laid Him Away
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I couldn't help but think of Antoine de St Exupery who disappeared in 1944 over the Mediterranean off the south coast of France when I saw this sculpture on the tomb of Jean Pater, who died in 1940 at the age of 29. The graceful stone aircraft carving here reminded me of engravings of airplanes on several French postage stamps from the 1940s and '50s, images of which can be found, like most things these days, on the internet. A St Exupery memorial stamp was issued in 1948.
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A soldier from WWI...
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1927 to 1986...
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Marius Dufremelle died in the Argonne in July 1918. Just the name "Argonne" brought to mind immediately Robert William Service's poem The Man From Athabaska, which was beautifully set to music by Country Joe McDonald on his 1971 anti-war record. The stone here is slowly disintegrating, returning to sand. The verse in question says :
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"For I joined the Foreign Legion, and they put me for a starter
In the trenches of the Argonne with the Boche a step away;
And the partner on my right hand was an apache from Montmartre;
On my left there was a millionaire from Pittsburg, U. S. A.
(Poor fellow! They collected him in bits the other day.)"
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Paul Plessier, 29 years old, killed at Douaumont on 28 April, 1916 (a fort which was the scene of fearsome fighting at Verdun)
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So young, so young to be killed for his country...
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Stained glass in disrepair...
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Window Shopping . . . or : Two Cats and a Van Gogh

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James' Weekend Reflections has been going strong for over two years now, and I have to take my hat off to him for the force that pushes him on with this project. Week in and week out he puts it together, and then gets out and visits most everyone who participates, leaving a kind word here and there. He makes the time to do that, which is no easy task, I'm sure. So, bravo James, great job, keep it up, you started a wonderful meeting of minds, as people participating from all over the world attest.
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I liked the floating chair and sleeping cat here . . .
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This second cat was protecting his turf . . .
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And finally, I was thinking, if Van Gogh did reflections photos, he might have done this one...
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Life Is Beautiful . . .

This post goes out to Jeff at "Life Is Beautiful". For quite some time he had a wild poppy flower in the header of his blog, but it recently changed, as he just gave his entire blog layout a major facelift, so if you have a minute, do stop by his blog. Part of the new look involved learning how to modify the HTML code on the page to make the pictures bigger . . . and his photos from France, Morocco, and god only knows where else, benefit tremendously from the larger presentation. But what I really like about Jeff is his wickedly sharp and funny mind that turns up word games at a mile a minute. French language recommended but not required.
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I took the above poppy (coquelicot) photo at the edge of field near where we live in northern France. This is the view across the field. The Senlis Cathedral spire is just barely visible in the distance.
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Amber fields of grain . . .
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Summer Solstice Music Festival . . .

The 21st of June every year in France has been for some years now bequeathed the title of "La Fete de la Musique". . . the Festival of Music . . . and in communities all over France it is the day when musicians of all stripes can pull out all the stops to get out and play in public. And plenty of the public turn out to see what's going on. I couldn't help but take a stroll around the town of Senlis this past Sunday afternoon, to see what I could see, and hear what was to be heard . . . I was not disappointed. What a scenic setting for live music ! At the west end of the Cathedrale a gentleman was doing very passable covers of James Taylor songs on an acoustic guitar . . . "Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall, All you got to do is call, and I'll be there . . ."
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On the south side of the Cathedrale a jazz band was be-bopping with a beautiful backdrop . . .
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In front of the parish church another band was belting out a surprisingly fine rendition of Sweet Home Alabama . . .
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One of their spare guitars stood in front of an ancient stone wall . . . Why is the form of the Fender so appealing to the eye ??? Anyone in their right mind just wants to grab it and start JAMMIN' . . .
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The tuning keys and head of the upright bass seemed perfect to accompany the flamboyant gothic of the Cathedrale stones . . .
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Senlis Sculptures. . .

And while on the subject of publicly displayed sculptures, which abound in France, here are a few from a walk in Senlis a few weeks ago. From Joan of Arc to Eugene Odent, who was the Mayor of Senlis in 1914 when the Germans invaded France. Because Senlis dared to oppose the advancing German troops Eugene Odent was taken hostage and then executed by firing squad on 2 September, 1914, among the early victims of that terrible conflagration. The southern quarter of Senlis was also shelled and burned at that time in retribution for the resistance met there.

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