These doorways in Sete are quintessential southern France and an example of Mediterranean color theory.
With less than a month until the shortest day of the year I’ve been craving color. Forecasters are predicting snow for tomorrow. This may be the snow that is the tipping point and forms the base for the rest of the season.
In the north, Winter’s palette is austere. Even the clear blue skies seem drained of vitality by the cold.
To add to my sense of a Great Plains winter, I’ve been reading novels by Willa Cather (see Apology to Willa Cather … ). Her stories of the plains at the turn of the 20th century give a glimpse into an America before the world wars, economic depressions, atomic weapons and climate crisis. Yet even in these books I can see the sowing of the seeds of destruction that would lead to the Dust Bowl.
Right now it is her portrayal of winter on the plains that strikes a chord with me. Cather understood that winter is much more than weather. Winter is a living thing that like the ducks and geese, migrates along ancient routes. It descends from the arctic ice above frozen Siberia, flows through the dark forests of Canada and eventual roosts in the plains where it builds its snow drift nests.
Winter means hunger. Fat squirrels and deer will grow thin while winter remains.
Winter also means a hunger for color. This has led me to dig through my photos for colorful memories that will replenish me for the next 5 months.
The photo above was taken in September of 2002, in the seaside town of Sete. At one time Sete had been a major fishing and ship building port. Now, its maritime industries are diminished and supplemented by tourism. It still has a lively harbor and great seafood.
So as winter freezes the color from the world outside, I’ll be indoors feasting on the colors of the past.