Yes, I know, France is suffering also. I keep thinking, were I anywhere else, would this be less stifling?
If I were still in my Cannes bedroom, the brightness of mimosa, thousands of miniature suns, would have been filling my green-shuttered window in February. When I needed to go to Antibes to the market, I’d drive right alongside the lapis-blue Mediterranean in winter. The hill towns of Provence, “La France Profonde“, beckoned on all sides. Mostly ignoring the Cote d’Azur, I was wrapped in blessed privacy everywhere I drove. And that lovely liquid language would be pouring, cascading over me, whenever I did put on my (probably very chic) mask and enter a village, were I ‘sheltering’ in France.
In our own country, the barrier island of Assateague and its protected sort-of-mainland isle, Chincoteague, are far removed from any sort of hurly burly in this season. These two remote settings, except in summer, attract more birds than horses. These are R-months, so the legendary oysters will be at peak. Read the sign, capturing the spirit of Assateague/Chincoteague, really at all times, but in this case after a dire hurricane. There’s something about a lighthouse, too, that steadies and comforts. This is the magnificent Fresnel lens of yesterday, blazoning safety far to sea in its time.