in october, there is an annual run of these fish, called daurades, between an enormous saltwater lake called the étang de thau and the mediterranean sea. they swim through the canals of sète and fishermen line up to cast huge weights and baited hooks to try to catch their small portion of the abundant bounty. so my two boys see these fish and think, “daurade run.” i see them and think, “silver? copper? bronze? titanium? steel? iron? pewter?” actually, before i think that, i think to myself that the guy on the right looks angry. the guy on top looks sheepish. the guy on the left looks determined. and the guy on the bottom looks lost.

daurade fish

autignac, france

one of our favorite plants here is the prunelle, known in english as the sloe. as in sloe gin. as in the source of perhaps more vile hangovers among american adolescents than blackberry brandy and maybe even (but probably not) captain morgan. in southern france they make a liqueur out of prunelles that our next door neighbor, jean-luc, assures us is one of life’s great pleasures. my husband plans to try to make some later this year, with jean-luc’s help, and i’m just hoping i don’t have to rub his back and hold his hair out of the way all night long, as he leans over the toilet, and tells me over and over how much he loves me, and how he will never do anything like this again.

phyllirea angustifolia

autignac, france

p.s. happy autumnal equinox everyone!

my very first test shot, to decide whether or not i would undertake something i was vaguely thinking of as “STILL blog,” four and half years ago, was a close up of the head of one of these enormous thistles we call wild teasel in the states. i had clipped it at the base of the stem and turned it over on its side. i photographed it against a white background so that it looked like a giant alien arachnid. that’s sort of the origin of all of this. i can still find the field, west of here, around a bend in a narrow country road, where i found the field full of teasel that took my breath away. i loved that feeling.  i loved that photo. i still love both.

cabaret des oiseaux (wild teasel)

autignac, languedoc, france

this is the first step in an experiment about the minimum number of objects necessary to define a place. there are fifteen objects here that all speak to me about the languedoc, and more specifically about this tiny subregion of the hérault department located in the  languedoc where we currently find ourselves. each object has both subjective and objective meaning. in other words, each object truly belongs, objectively, in this place, and at the same time these objects have stories associated with them that are subjective to me personally, and that amount to a kind of love song from mary jo to the part of the languedoc that runs from the foothills of the espinouse mountains to the mediterranean shoreline between sète and marseillan-plage. the next question is, how many of these could i remove and still have the images define this specific place, without also defining some other, similar place. hmmm. ok here we go…

cypress cone, grapes, land snail, wild carrot, sea glass, wild blackberry, beach rock, wild teasel, thyme, olives, shells, fig leaf thistle, lunaria, wild fennel

autignac, france

my right brain is saying, look at all the weathered imperfection. look at the tumbled beauty. look at the endless color variations. my left brain is saying, square. make it square. tuck in that corner there. not square yet. needs to be square.

worn shell pieces

the mediterranean beach between sète and marseillan plage, france