Paradise

That is where we are. Specifically, a little village in the Cotes du Rhone region called Sablet. We are in an apartment above a wine cellar. Our hostess makes wine. The kitchen is the exact same colors as our kitchen at home.

The windows overlook tiny winding streets with tile roofs. Apricots fall swollen with ripeness from the tree next door. Zoe tries to pick them up as specimens. The view out the other windows, facing away from town, is vineyards and mountains. They recede into green mist like backgrounds in Renaissance paintings.

We have been exploring hilltop villages. Both yesterday and today, we drove perilous roads that spiraled along mountains, barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other. Steve loved doing the driving, Zoe was entertained, and I took no pictures because I spent my time holding the Oh Shit handles on the car.

When we got home, I cooked a fish we bought at a weekly market that featured spiraled shells and creatures still glistening from the sea.