We are far from our southern New Mexico desert in every way. Under the cloudy and temperate skies of France, we are wandering through chateaux,
looking at gardens recreated in the 16th century manner,
|Villandry, the gardens|
seeing how people lived long ago,
|Villandry, one of the bedrooms|
and loving the old stone walls and wild poppies everywhere in the French countryside.
|In the countryside, near Monts-sur-Guesnes|
We are peeking into the remains of the moats around walled cities to see the gardens that people make,
|In the town of Richelieu|
going to markets where the French buy boxes of live chickens to keep them supplied with fresh meals until the market comes around again in a month,
|Market day in Lencloitre|
and putting together our own beautiful table in the Poitou-Charentes.
|Local bounty from the market and the patisserie|