Friday, September 9, 2016

Marnay-sur-Seine pre-dinner walk.

At work painting line drawings on the computer in the purple room.
 Guitar break on the porch.
Pretending to be engrossed in tourist guide in the living/dining room. This room serves as the social hub, partly because we eat dinner together here, and also because it is the place where the wi-fi reception works.
So much good fruit everyday.
I suspect a previous artist's table (in-residence), part of the decor in the purple room.
Went for a late afternoon stroll around Marnay-sur-Seine today to get a little better sense of the village. Lots of strong light contrasts in the early evening sun and shadow.
The village has many well-tended, renovated stone houses. From what I have been told and what I have been able to figure out so far, these are retired couples, Parisians' summer homes, probably a few folks who work at the nuclear power plant or the local agro-science corporation, and maybe even an ancient, old-time resident or two wondering what the heck happened.












Either someone's cute idea, or an old name with a different signification.
It's a charming place, with two artist residency organizations seemingly providing the bulk of business activity (there's nothing else except for tree-harvesting, dairy cows, and hay). Babies' cries emanate from inside the mairie (the mayor must be a young mom), tree-felling across the Seine kept the serenity at bay yesterday, and screaming teenagers populate the Seine's waters in front of Camac in the afternoons, but otherwise, it's pretty calm.
Texture everywhere.











Dinner after this stroll was yet another restaurant-worthy meal, with cream of something soup (maybe tomato?) and lentils and rice, with tiramisu to end. Apparently Karine studied to be a chef but decided to change course, and we are amongst the beneficiaries. We popped open a bottle of champagne (fortunately I did this on the porch rather than inside, as it fairly well exploded out of the bottle).

Tomorrow a group excursion through the fields to Pont-sur-Seine, a village with a boulangerie, two restaurants, a library...well, that was a previous post (see below a bit).

The days go by without much need for a clock, but still they cycle through their revolutions...our stay here, like everything, won't last forever, even though some of the stone buildings here seem willfully to defy time's transformative touch.

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