My first resting place is a small park near our apartment. To reach it I exit the front door onto the square and turn left. Another left onto Rue de la Madeleine, which eventually brings me to another square, Place aux Herbes. In front of me is the enormous cathedral, the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-et-Saint-Castor, parts of which have been meticulously restored and cleaned over a period of several years. All the scaffolding and protective fabric is gone now, and the light stone facade is pristine.
A long frieze above the entrance depicts biblical events; I’m particularly drawn to the crouching figure with his hands raised in front of his face, maybe to avoid seeing some catastrophe. One morning this past January, the rising sun lit the interior of two arches at the top, filling them with an almost eerie orange light.
Crossing to the corner of the cathedral, I’m in a small area in front of the Musée de Vieux Nîmes, or Museum of Old Nîmes. Turning left, I approach a large water feature, a series of stone troughs descending to a smaller square where there is tango dancing on summer evenings. A walkway wends its way, snakelike, through the troughs, and makes a challenging course for children on their small bicycles. Water falls in sheets from the troughs when the fountain is on, enveloping one in a loud rushing sound. The troughs are a favourite bathing place for the many local pigeons; when startled, they fly en masse with a great whoosh of flapping wings to the cathedral roof, to wait in safety.
Turning right, I pass an Italian restaurant where most mornings the proprietor is dragging metal tables and chairs out onto the surrounding terrace to prepare for lunchtime. An ornate iron gate separates this area from the park. The gate is unlocked most morning by three municipal police on their rounds, on a rather unpredictable schedule.
Beautiful photos Penny. It feels like something really special is taking form.