The fishing pond
This is a countryside across which Monet traveled and set up his easel to paint the fields and the stands of trees, the village and the church of Vétheuil. An easy ride from his home in Giverny, on the other bank of the Seine, just a bit farther along the Seine towards Normandy.
This evening, my object was to ride and take advantage of a rare moment without rain, but I took my camera. Just in case.
It was lovely, riding along in the dimming evening light. Quiet but for the laughter and the voices carrying across the water of the nearby "base de loisirs" in the clear summer air, chilly for early August, but the sounds of vacationers enjoying themselves regardless of the need for fleece jackets and sweaters, and a campfire by the little lake brought a little summer back. So does riding my bicycle along roads I normally travel by car, or scarcely ever take, as close as they are to home, the same roads Monet took, when they were probably nothing more than lanes.
It was the very same light that brought Money here to paint, and urges me to bring my camera wherever I go. I could well have taken many more photographs, but I will leave them for another time. I keep telling myself I will paint again.
It was the very same light that brought Money here to paint, and urges me to bring my camera wherever I go. I could well have taken many more photographs, but I will leave them for another time. I keep telling myself I will paint again.
Right after I finish renovating the house.
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3 commentaires:
Rain, you say? Send it our way, please. It's been months!
Please! Take it! I've been trying and trying to send it to TX.
Chére, interesting that you have posted a photo of "The Fishing Pond." Last week, during a five-day séjour in KY, I found a cherished fishing pond of my youth! Before Cave Run Lake was formed my Hall grandparents owned about 300 acres of what is now Twin Knobs Recreation Area on said lake. About a year before my GF Hall passed on in 1955 ce petit étang was dug and stocked with bass and bluegill. It became a place of entertainment where we could laugh at one another as we caught mostly hand-sized bluegill that we fried up for one of the three daily meals. I thought it had been dozered away in the late '60's when dam construction began. But no. There it was behind the screen/stage of the outdoor amphitheatre, now mostly filled with leaves and dark water, ...and lots of frogs that skip like flat pebbles in their escape. I can't believe how small it is, and how much fun we derived from it. I love your photographs and the association with Monet.
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