this pheasant egg is not in a pheasant nest. it is in a temporary, comfortable nest found near a vineyard in france. this pheasant egg and i have a lot in common just now.
vineyard nest with pheasant egg
if seedpods were a movie star, i’d be a fangirl. if they were chocolate, i’d be a chocoholic. if they were loans i’d be insolvent. if they were wine, i’d be drunk. if they were jewels i’d be a thief.
cistus albidus (the grey-leaved cistus) dried seed heads
part of what i love about having to make a still blog photo every day (i don’t always love every part of it) is that it forces me to stay in touch with the seasons wherever i happen to be. not everyone who has spent time in southern france would be able to pinpoint the month of the year this was photographed. but i can look at it and know immediately that that is late september or early october in the languedoc. and i feel as if i am somehow more a part of things for knowing this. i’m looking out from inside the country, not shading my eyes and staring in from the outside.
figs, fennel, and grapes
these two crocuses overlooked a fall vineyard, post-harvest, and an olive grove, not to mention the grounds of château coujan, where the grapes would be made into wine, and the olives into oil. we might all be as cheery as a yellow crocus, if we had been planted in such soil.
coujan, languedoc, france
i love the simultaneous sense of neediness and entitlement these vine tendrils give off as they grip the stems of plants around them. like a child on your hip, holding on tight, secure in the knowledge that she deserves all of your comfort and attention.
grape vine with tendrils