Tag Archives: France


Also some photos in France of Guillestre and around there, where I am staying.

Des Oignons, some onions

des poires, some pears

le crâne d’un chien, a dogs skull

Je suis en France depuis déjà deux semaines mais le temps passe vite. Je n’ai que deux semaines de plus à Guillestre et après ça deux semaines à Paris…j’ai tout un tas de photos de vous montrer mais je crains que les photos sans fin des montagnes puissent être ennuyeuses . Je vais essayer de les organiser dans un diaporama, peut-être un peu plus tard. Pour le moment, juste quelques unes de Guillestre et les environs.

i have been in France for two weeks already but time is flying. I have only two more weeks in Guillestre and then two in Paris. Of course I have taken a whole pile of photos to show you, but endless photos of mountains could be boring so I’m going to try to make a slideshow of them, maybe a bit later. For now, just a few photos of Guillestre etc.

On top of a mountain, a très petite mountain above Guillestre.
Village center, à couple of restaurants and the tourist info center
The road, la rue de la petite Fontaine, on which I am living right in the center of town
Mountains in the distance during a trip to Orris en Rattier this past weekend.

Paintings and photos

Coeur de France language school (for French ) in Sancerre, France. A rainy day…
A more sunny day in Sancerre, 2019
House on Bullock Street is a shade of purple or aubergine, not the blue it appears in photo.
In acrylics, the same house is rather brighter! I hope owner, for whom I painted it doesn’t mind…
Palazzo Podere in Tuscany Italy
My version of this lovely house, approximately 32” by 24” done entirely in colored pencils.

A poem for our time, to our better selves


(poem engraved on the Statue of Liberty, with recording below.)

‘By Emma Lazarus – 1849-1887

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

For those who need also to hear this poem read out loud, I recorded it, after several attempts during which I broke down in tears. Here, then, without tears, but my heart full of them, I offer Emma Lazarus’ amazing poem, which is engraved on the base of the Statue of Liberty,  which we also call, The Lady.

Statue of Liberty poem