Central Bolivia


Arriving from Brazil, our train ride was on the so called “death train” that crosses the Pantanal. I quibbled, the “death train” because after an hour of bouncing (the train was built on the undulating ground of the Pantanal) an acceptable option is to kill yourself. After 13 hours, to add to the surreal we were entertained by “Meet the Frockers” (seriously?). On arriving in Santa Cruz (mid-Bolivia) the civil unrest that started in La Paz was threatening Santa Cruz, too. Our hotel room was excellent but exceeded by the warm and (yes!) loving staff. Crying when we left was excessive in our world, sadly. I think of them with fondness to this day.


Working on Provence House

Lots of cleaning needed here in the South of France. Many spiders have taken over the house and must be evicted. And the 1/2 acrea land has to be cleared.

My weed whacker must be repaired and I will pick it up Monday.

All of this is worth the effort for my love of provence. 💖

TGV to the south of France

At 180mph the countryside is a smooth green memory. here in the moment and then gone. Each mile south and the beat of the south. the heart of French charm.

Pull us from these turbulant history. our changing time. before when we where more tuned to rhythms like an ancient past.

Jardin des Plantes


Looking back at the Jardin des Plantes its yearly development is an admirable achievement and today it is at least there at the level of the Jardin de Luxembourg. Lovingly tended and carefully designed, I walked three times through without a thought of the city hubbub beyond the walls.

On returning to Paris tonight

The taxi ride to the hotel tonight rolled along busy streets banked by French archeticture crowded with pedestrians of different shades. Now the lovely streets outside my window will probable be humming for many hours more though it I’d late. My small clean room is lite by the neon and street lights in arrandisment. Paris is very different from the whole the jet could bring me to only 10 hours ago.