The hills are alive with the sound of freezing

Well, after the 11 day trip to Italy, and having a weekend to decompress, this morning it was my week for chauffeuring the kids to the bus stop. Woke up to a brilliant orb of red, rising to greet me. “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning?” Luckily I’m not a sailor, but I always shoulder that warning and keep a watchful weathered eye. There was a dusting of snow yesterday, and this morning there was no sign of snow, just the freezing temperature that accompanies it. Having lived in southern California for the last 20 years, my blood really has thinned down. I am not hating the cold weather as much as when I was young, but my fondness for the memory of it, has almost left me. After dropping off the carload of youngsters, I make my way back to the rented farmhouse.
Enroute back to the farmhouse I stop on the roadside part way down the hill from Soumensac, and get out to take a couple photographs. A few days ago I was talking with Caleigh’s friend Hannah’s parents, and one of the many things we spoke about was art. Specifically, in photography, when you think of a composition and framing a shot, it seems as though what you see in your minds eye rarely matches what you see in the picture afterwards. Well in my minds eye, I’ve always wanted to get a photograph of the hillside covered with vines leading up to the Church and abutting houses that is Soumensac. Kind of like the old village looking down with a cool sereneness, over the neatly organized rows of dormant vines. Well in my mind the church was larger, more of a dominant presence, and the vines were undulating in a more pasturey setting. I mean the photo is fine, just not the image I had in mind. Life is all about interpretation.