Leaving Paris

On Monday we leave Paris, just when spring is peeking over the horizon. How can you tell? Aside from the higher temperatures, I can now see people's faces. No longer are they covered with well tied scarves, with only a pair of eyes visible. Little bits of color are beginning to appear, blue suede shoes, bright yellow boots and blood red sneakers. A yellow t-shirt or a pink and blue silk scarf. And the smiling faces replace the scowls that were everywhere when snow was in the air. And last but not least, young people are kissing on every corner.

It will be a  place I won't soon forget. Walking by the flower shop and the aroma of roses wafting out the door. ---Yes, I do stop to smell the roses. --- Buying fruit at a colorful fruit store called the Palace of Fruit. The oranges fill your mouth with taste you won't quickly forget, and I let the juice linger for awhile. Seeing the piles of  leeks and bunches of very small radishes. When the market comes on Thursday, the fish stand states that everything is direct off the boat in Normandy. They mean the fish not the immigrants. The smell of chicken on the revolving spit. Even if I don't eat it, I can enjoy the aroma.

The crisp croissants and the  baguettes with butter and raspberry jam. Hot coffee creme to dip them in, and if you're really hungry, fried eggs with almost orange yolks.

The dozens of cheese that one can taste and make sandwiches of. In 60 days you don't have to eat the same cheese twice.

Walking down the Seine, which I finally did when the weather was good. The water isn't so important, but you  know that thousands of people have done this before you.

Yes, it will be hard to leave and I'm not so sure we will ever come back. But I can dream.