Il Neige


It is snowing.

Crazy snowing.

Heavy snow.

Heaviest snowfall I have seen since I have been here.

Paris gave me the excuse today to take it slow.

Paris is not a city that operates well in this kind of weather, the squeal of tires trying to get up the hill on Rue Cadet as I hopped over the curb and just missed the puddle, rang in my ears.

I trotted up the hill happy to be coming home, happy to have a home over my head, one with radiators all firing, one with a working stove top and a kettle.  I put the tea-pot on immediately.

I draped all my gear over the radiator.

I have an early day tomorrow, up by 7 a.m. out to Courbevoie by 9 a.m.

I just realized I better book myself a little extra time tomorrow, the morning commute is bound to be crazy.  I can’t fathom a lot of people are going to be able to drive into work tomorrow.

I commend the few I did see out in the weather.

I even saw a runner, fleet-footed, dashing between the flakes along the Left Bank as I strode across the bridge at Point Alma.

I did not stop to take photographs on the bridge, the snow felt more like a blizzard than anything I have experienced in years,  I wanted to get home, get warm and get some hot food in my stomach.

However, I could not help but notice the miraculous transformation of the cafe next to the Alma Marceau Metro stop.  I had to stop, I had to get the camera out of my bag and just take a few photographs.  It was just too dreamy.



I leaned my umbrella up against the corner of the cafe wall and hid myself underneath the awning as I dug out the camera with my chilled fingers.

I am very pleased that I bothered to stop.

And to think I was taking photographs of pansies in the park just down the road from here on a sun splashed day just last week.

False Spring indeed.

I was thinking, as the snow crashed down on my umbrella sounding very much like the crackle and pop of rice krispies in a bowl cackling away, that it was like this in the Midwest.

There would be a day, usually a week or so before Easter that it would get decidedly warm and the snow melt would happen and I would watch for the first daffodils pushing through the snow, the first bits of bright green so much more noticeable against the white.

I saw those same daffodils today on my earlier walk.

When I awoke this afternoon.

Yes, I said afternoon, I slept in.

I did not get to bed last night until 3 a.m.

The costs of going to an open mic late night and then coming home to write a blog about said adventure.  I think I may have posted up around 2:15 a.m. or there about, had a cup of tea, watched an episode of Girls, and then suddenly realized it was 3 a.m.

Get to bed!

When I awoke, this afternoon, and looked out into the courtyard I saw the snow that had been steadily falling since early this morning, had transformed the ground and it was not a day to go do big adventures.

It would be a small adventure sort of day.

I read, wrote, meditated.

I had some good coffee–still going on the Philz, but I only have about two, maybe three more days of the deliciousness.  And to my consternation, I realized I had taken the last tea bag out of the box from the package I got from Action Girl.  Oh well, it was damn good drinking while it lasted!

I ate a nice hot breakfast.

I did some laundry.

I decided I was going to take a walk up to the Montmartre cemetery, what could be prettier than headstones covered in snow?

I have to say, I can’t tell you, because it was closed.


The sign read: C’est fermer, parce que il niege.

Closed for snow.

It was coming down too, I had not brought my umbrella with me as I wanted to have my hands as free as possible to take photographs once I got up to the cemetery, about a twenty-five minute walk from the apartment.

I was absolutely frosted with it.

I did take some photographs check here to see what I posted earlier today, however, I wanted to capture some of the beauty of the day.

Especially since there really were so few people out and a great absence of traffic.

I stood in the street a few times to get just the angle I wanted to get.

I popped into the Naturalia store on Place de Clichy and got a box of my favorite tea, here in Paris, Yogi Tea’s Sweet Chai, which I would be sipping on, except that I believe that it is caffeinated and I am not willing to risk getting hopped up on caffeine at 9:3o at night.  I will have a hard enough time tucking myself in at 11pm to get the eight hours I shoot for.

I also picked up some apples from the store and some bulk oatmeal.

I miss Rainbow, but these little markets are not too bad.

On the pricey side, but I let myself have a little splurge.

I was asked to pick up another gig on Thursday, thus giving myself permission to shop at the bio store.  I also confirmed four gigs for the last week in March, a friend of a friend is coming into town and has two children.  I am happy to help!

I don’t know where I am going with all of this, this living in Paris, but I do know that any action I can take today is toward staying.

Because I have dreamed my dream and now living it, I get to continually expand on what it is I want from this life and these experiences.

Dream a little dream, Carmen, frosted in snow, and dipped in sugar crunch sweetness, it’ll come true.

Because it already has.



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