Saturday, July 16, 2011

Saturday commute xxxii: doux de montagne

between the ranch of Leland Stanford
and the beach of immigrant fishermen
there is King's Mountain Road


  1. Although I seldom have "extra" hours, there are a few occasions as time passes when I find myself lazily surfing through these blogs… like this warm summer morning when I have the house to myself and I can afford the luxury of waking and reviving slowly, wandering to the kitchen for coffee in just an old pair of baggy sweatshorts that would get a disapproving look from Mother if she were home, shuffling back to sprawl in front of my computer to look for anything interesting, wasting time before I take my lacrosse stick to join my friends and burn down some energy in the heat and humidity of the afternoon, after which comes an hour or so cooling together in the shade of the big park trees and talking about things that matter between friends like us. Discovering your blog merits an extremely rare effort to comment. I'm truly impressed to find an obviously well-read bloggerman with a refined mind, eye, and ear for real beauty that stimulates all the senses. I seldom mention a blog to my friends, but we will be talking about yours today. Well done, Laurent.

  2. I thank you and I only wish you could have the foggiest idea of the precision with which you have isolated a principal strand of this page's motivations. I have felt that fog on the mountain bathe my face at dawn, and if I could conceive of an alternative, you've just identified it. I wish you and your friends well. Bearing in mind your sport's genius for manoeuvre and feint, strike and shock, should (I hope) energise this little page by illuminating example. It would certainly be delicious to see that happen.