Sunday's for doing nothing. We're getting pretty good at it.
Late breakfast on the terrace is followed by a long walk around the grounds. I just love looking at the plantings, and there are odd, steely structures here and there. My favorite is a stand that holds an enormous chunk of rose quartz. At night, the crystal is lit.
We putz around, and BW settles down to read in the chaize. I decide to be strong, and go up to do a long work-out. Come back to shower and feel proud of myself.
Wander up for drinks at the bar. I like watching the cute bartender make fancy drinks. It's like liquid art. I have a bellini, and it was all pink and pretty.
It was clouding up earlier, and there was distant rumblings of thunder, but as we sit in the bar looking out, it begins to pour.
We eat under the awning, and the skies clear again to a sunset as pink and pretty as my bellini.
Up a bit earlier on Monday as we plan to drive up into the mountains to see Gorges de Verdon. We'll make a big circle up and back, at about a three and a half or four hour round trip.
The sunny day turns to a rainy one before we're half way. But up we go. Seriously up, and around switchbacks that start to insult my system. I'm just not built for this. LOL. Splatters of rain turn into the real thing, and the clouds are thick—especially thick when you're actually in them. I can see the shadows and silhouettes of ENORMOUS mountains, but only that. When we reach the top, it's hammering rain, and clouds are curtaining what must be stupendous views. We do brave the rain a bit, but with lightning sizzling down, not for long. I can see the clouds just smoking between the folds of ridges, all very dramatic in its way, but not what we were hoping for.
We stop at a tourist stop—buses lined up with German passengers—and get me a Coke Light to help my poor stomach. Wares here are amusing and very touristy, and it's a nice little break.
We continue down, and down, winding on the snaking road—even writing about it makes me queasy. LOL. White lightning lances and sparks and thunder booms. Rain pelts the car, the road, And the road is a narrow ribbon faced by a cliff on one side and doom beyond a guard rail on the other.
I see a cliff wall that looks a bit like a fanciful castle, but really want to be home now.
We inch our way there, and I opt to walk back in the rain to the villa. Just can't face even the movement of a golf cart.
Fix myself a cup of tea, get into my robe. Ahhh. Somewhat better now.
The Road Warrior is having a much-deserved nap. Eventually I may actually want to eat again.