Memory of a rose window on a cold afternoon

notre dame rose window

It’s a frigid day here in Indiana, and I’m happy to be off from work in observance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Since I refuse to spend much time in 17-degrees-Fahrenheit weather, I dedicated the day to cleaning. And now I’m taking a break. 🙂

As I was cleaning out the refrigerator and the cabinets, my mind wandered to a warm May day in Paris.  I had seen the Seine River and walked past Quasimodo souvenir shops and chestnut trees in all their pink, vernal spendour to Notre Dame de Paris and my first sticky, fresh, and wonderful palmier.

Upon entering the cathedral, the first detail I noticed was an enormous basin of holy water encompassed by people–a frenzy of dipping and making the sign of the cross before entering the dimly-lit sanctuary.

Viewing the rose window of Notre Dame was quite a pinch-myself moment. I endeavored to steady my shaky hands to snap a photo to prove to my brain that I had been to Paris. I had seen the gargoyles, flying buttresses, and the rose window of Notre Dame.

A couple from Georgia told us, “If you want to smell somethin’ good, go across the street. They’re havin’ a bread festival.” So we left the intense experience of religion, medieval history, and French Gothic architectural genius behind and followed our noses and stomachs to La Fete du Pain.

The entrance of the white tent was flanked by guards with automatic weapons, which made us a bit nervous, but all the nervousness melted away as the heady aroma of yeast and sugar wafted past our nostrils. Oh, if I could have some pain du chocolate or a palmier right now. Oh, shoot, I’m all out of Euros. And I’m not in Paris. Someday….

Until next time.

Happy Trails!






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