Enter a medieval village in the south of France, with a tiny cafe where the plat du jour is so delicious that one bite makes me weep for joy. Walk up the hill to the small stone cottage near the top of Rue Longue. Take a seat by the window. Pour a glass of red wine, nibble a wedge of cheese, open my laptop and begin to write.
Heaven? Well, it certainly seems that way to me.
The house in Auzon, France was an unexpected turn of events, yet the decision to acquire it, seemed like the most natural thing in the world, even though I don’t speak French, or had ever traveled to the part of France where we now own a home.
After learning the house was ours, we immediately shipped two road bikes, and soon our camping gear. The After-Fifty-Adventure-Man hasn’t hung up his adventuring ways just yet. In fact, one of France’s largest forests, the Livradois is right out our back door. Who knows, exploring other small French villages, cycling the back roads of the Auvergne region, taste testing the plat du jour at some tiny cafe, might be just the thing to jump start a heap of new tales.
As I am fond of saying, “We ain’t getting any younger”.
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