"When I first visited the hillside in Southern France topped with the remains of three 12th C. windmills, there was an air of desolation about the broken cross beams of their sails. The next time I climbed the dusty road to the top, the repair had begun and the fabric of the sails was filled with the wind. The last red poppies were fading and there was a newness about this hill which had watched over the route of centuries of pilgrims making their way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. It was a day to linger."
~A Bush
 |
words, images
& painting ©
2008 Annette
Adams
Bush
