Les portes de La Rochelle make me want to paint with watercolors.

But first I have to photograph them, because I’m not even CLOSE to ready to have anyone see me attempting a watercolor. Besides, the French are rather private people and would not be likely to appreciate me camped outside their door, no matter how artsy I looked. So instead I took a gazillion photos (as quickly as possible).

I love all the colors against the soft buff and cool grey of the stone. Maybe I will actually get out my paints. I’ll let you know. But if you do first, send me a photo!

Postscript: I know I posted all of the above only half an hour ago, but David helped me realize that the visual metaphor pictured above may be too obscure, and a few words may be in order. I’m ending this post with the photo of an open door with something beautiful behind it, because that’s what this whole experience feels like to us. Between the challenges of the logistics and the language barrier, it really did seem sometimes that it would be impossible to take this journey, yet here we are, and it’s amazing. It feels like we’ve stepped through the back of the wardrobe into Narnia — a completely different kind of place in some ways — with all the essentials of life more richly appreciated, because we’re out of our routine: the refreshment of a perfect little garden in the midst of a stone city, the sensory treat of glowing produce piled in abundance at the outdoor markets, the ambiance of cozy little restaurants in tiny side streets, the laughter of children, the delight of a smile shared.

We are profoundly grateful for this opportunity and hope you enjoy sharing a bit of it with us. Better yet, we wish you your own open door with beauty behind it. We’d love to hear all about it. And don’t forget to send photos!