Don't you love memories ?
Bonjour décembre
[Hello December]
December is made for kissing in the mist, warm nights of magic rush and cold pink dawn, foreseen epiphanies, and perhaps, most importantly, mulled wine.
A short welcome to this new month, because – believe me or not – some things are better left unsaid.
Bonjour novembre
[Hello November]
Is it just me, or do you also feel like that – more than any other month – tarts belong to November?
It usually happens without a warning. And without a calendar.
Leggings en laine
[Wool leggings]
My day started like this. Warm wool leggings, cushy slippers, and a cup of coffee of the burn-your-tongue kind. Only to end up, pretty much the same and with a good read included.
Sur un nuage
[On a cloud]
For days when the sky feels like a cloud, of the gigantic kind. And our homes are made warm with gas ovens.
I’ve yet found what dough will become a cloud in my kitchen. Perhaps, my very favourite matcha shortbreads. Or the cinnamon cookies that made my childhood a forever-Christmas.
Thank you Nikole for making such beautiful objects that – waiting to be used – sit on my bedside table, as a collection of treasures.
What is your favourite cut-out cookie recipe?
Bonjour octobre
[Hello October]
Hello, it’s 32°C out there.
This morning I went swimming. One last time before the French holidays come to an end.
Oh, this past month has been great. I’ve been enjoying the summer I never got this summer.
Mind your French – Le fondant au chocolat
[The ultimate chocolate fondant]
In London, we’ve had winter in July. Air damp with rain. Kitchens warm with soup on the stove. Oven smelling like chocolate cake.
And now, in the south of France, we’re having summer in September.
Instants, dans la cuisine
[Moments, in the kitchen]
Sat at the table for breakfast. A breakfast that smells of toast and salted butter – the one with crisp fleur de sel – and, of course, coffee.
Bonjour septembre
[Hello September]
I am away from London for a month. Yes and whole entire month.
And as I was landing at the smallest airport I have ever seen (so small I couldn’t help but take pictures of the very vintage aérogare straight from the plane tiny window*), I knew I would miss that city which has not-so slowly grown on me**.
The smell of the ocean
Today, I booked a flight to a place I haven’t been in a year. But even with my eyes closed, I would still be able to ride my bike to the little fortress by the marais [marsh].
Bonjour août
[Hello August]
July felt like a summer storm. Of the quick, unexpected kind.
It was beautiful. And much unlike any other July that has crossed my path. The rain, the cold, the golden leaves covering the pavement.
Mon écureuil
[My squirrel]
I might have a new friend. Same face. Same place. Just a couple of months later.
And yes, just as I did before, I’m writing this from a bed*.
Bonjour juillet
[Hello July]
The first night of July smelled like freshly-cut grass. We could hear planes over our heads and, at that exact moment, it reminded me the evening we spent sat on the sidewalk by the motorway.
One night of magic rush
I had forgotten how purposeless words can hold a special meaning. Just like driving endlessly on the smallest roads, with no possibility whatsoever to get lost since we have no destination.
And it feels like a moment outside of time.
Les pieds dans l’eau
A hard week ahead.
For gold of the world, I wouldn’t change
A thing. You’re my diamond.
And yes, it is totally alright to make cheesy words feel ok by writing a haiku.
Bonjour juin
[Hello June]
More than ever, this year, june feels like a new start. A kiss goodbye under the rain. Metaphorically and literally.
Also the first time I won’t be able to wish my grand-father his birthday.
