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Bringing forth a gentle duress to focus on the details

A considerable part of the comfort we luxuriate in Les Pierres finds its dawning in the aspirating view over the rolling typical French countryside, vitally unaltered for ages, furnishing our lives with the reassurance of remaining heritage and uniform beauty.
It’s in this poignant panorama that rhythm and time are settled, often dramatically lit by sun or moon with slowly moving subtle shifts to keep our eyes occupied with archetypal charm, bringing forth a gentle duress to focus on the details of what’s going on around us, near us, inside us.
It never ceases to amaze me that a broad vista by itself can and will inspire soothing introspection like that.

One of the setbacks of the cottage in which we live, is the deranging absence of that particular spectacle, with misplaced small windows and undeniably cute pink shutters providing atmosphere, but without interesting sight lines when you are inside, partly exacerbated by our neighbors’ enthusiasm for construction work.

We certainly plan to integrate our biggest asset into a possible extension to the cottage once we get around to rebuilding the little ruin next door, but for the time being we appreciate the sheltering qualities of our tiny hideout, excluding outside and thus counter-parting in a completely different way the ever alarming news cycle around a world rapidly spinning out of control, but forcing a similar closer look inside.

Classy real estate ads usually scream exclusivity, often to advertise fairly generic features, where inclusiveness could be an equally interesting aspect of ownership, too often assigned to luck and chance. Of course Les Pierres is our lucky find we like to show off with, but in its beauty, charm and magic manifestly not unique; the bigger picture of which it is part contributes to its distinctiveness at least as much.

The other day, foraging for nuts in our orchard on the north west side, gaudy trying to merge with the environment, I suddenly had the distinct feeling I was being stared at. Obviously it was our treasured view looking back at me, our curious new neighbors, whose moving in had completely escaped me, teaching me it’s identically worthy to turn the gaze around.

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