architectural anomalies

as we wander around unassuming towns, seaside villages and bucolic countryside it is not difficult to spot the odd architectural specimen sticking out from among more conventional structures...

this lighthouse had been converted into a single hotel room with a 360 degree view, and le petit déjeuner is hoisted up on a seaworthy rope!.. [it is apparently the only lighthouse B & B in France]

near where we were staying is this solitary minimal castellated villa overlooking the sea, a little forlorn and stoic even on brilliant days softened by effusive expanses of wildflowers...

and of course, tumbling down old stone barns are always a poignant sight to behold... this one with a graceful roof curvature balanced so precariously that a strong gust of wind could reduce it to a mound of rubble as we stand and watch...

an evocative touch of chinoiserie to jazz up any street, even in the ancient celtic depths of southern Brittany... a little like me, an exotic anomaly amongst the hardy sailors, rough-and-ready pirates and salty-tongued fishermen...

and hidden above our favourite beach is a shuttered-up comanderie turned holiday-house that has its own gunnery bunker looking out to sea... a somewhat sinister feature to stumble upon on the most tranquil of beaches!

troc et puces

every weekend we plan road-trips to a wide circuit of vide-greniers, brocantes, troc et puces in search of the deal of the century!
from crowded school gyms and playgrounds to muddy fields and forest settings to portside fishmarkets and wharves to city squares and sidestreets, the piles of stuff is never-ending and drive me to crazed impatience, but it is also an excuse to explore the many small villages and towns we would otherwise miss...

on may day sweet children sell fragrant bunches of muguets [lily-of-the-valley] at the entrance to an enormous brocante in a forest grove off a country road...

hundreds of bargain-weary brocanteurs and multi-generational families congregate in organized campground chaos and spill out their dog-eared offerings to the thousands who will venture forth in rain or shine to pick through the millions of bits and pieces discarded from other people's lives...

I don't find much for myself anymore but still keep an eye out for things requested by friends and clients...
although always hoping to discover the unexpected...

this cool old engraving of a grouping of the Reines de France for 10 euros was very tempting...and the cool old gentleman selling it told us that it had been sitting [and deteriorating!] in his attic for decades...
now we regret not lugging it home!

as always, back to portside on the côte sauvage yielding up some elegant rejectamenta at low tide...
sometimes the visual cacophony of all these flea markets and attic sales can quieten down to the odd moment of a sublime grace note imagery...
[of which I don't need to purchase!]

de porte en porte

I know doors are a clichéd architectural feature to photograph, but every once in a while, I can't help myself!
and behind every closed door lies a mysterious interior and the secret ebb and flow of lives unseen...


through a locked and rusty iron gate and shaded by an unkempt garden, we imagine shifting shadows behind dusty window panes...but the white door appears unopened for a long time...

I peek through the crack and spy dirt floor and abandoned detritus scattered about under decades-thick dust...

another lost in time church we could not enter, especially this side door being slowly sealed up by creeping ivy...but through the crack, the light can still get in...

the odd placement of a small planter on the threshold must trip some hobbits up!...but the shaping of the large stone frame is most voluptuous...

and back on the côte sauvage, narrow doors buffer against the strong winds and other wild tempestuous beings!
the delicacy of the brick work against the salt-encrusted stone walls betrays perhaps a more refined soul within, forever peering out through the small round window above towards the crashing green waves...

exuberant blooms

the long-blooming hortensia [hydrangea] is the floral symbol of Brittany, and this is the first of the season with the softest of pink flush...I regret not being there when they are profusely in bloom in every hue everywhere...

along the highway to the Morbihan, golden walls of prickly gorse stretch on in a blaze of spring fever happiness...and their coconut scent mixes with the salty sea air to engulf us in an anticipatory holiday high...

in an old churchyard ancient stones gather around a late spring bouquet of tulips and pansies, as we tiptoe over the finely raked gravel towards the silent church...

heavy clusters of violet glycine [wisteria] defy gravity as they hang pendulous on stone houses and send out perfumed whiffs to already light-headed passersby...

and in one of the many hamlets we come across delicately tiny wildflowers flourish freely with a small red rose bush left to fend for itself in benign neglect against a weathered stone wall...

on an island in the Gulf of Morbihan we stumble upon this lone starburst-blossom stalk [I haven't identified it yet...anyone knows what it is??] in a shady glade under the gnarled branches of sea-watered evergreens...

I become almost adept at shooting out of a moving car whenever the sunlit floral exuberance splashes into my line of vision...
and as always, I am still somewhat giddy with all these refreshing florescent rites of spring!

domus vernacular

everywhere we go we are always looking at houses - possible new domicile and strong architectural interest in regional style - the older the more compelling, and of course, always unmodified charm!

facing the cote sauvage, a tiny cottage beckons with a grassed over pathway between the two inspired rows of miniature menhirs, no doubt emphasizing the primitive aspects of the siting...

the basic geometry of hearth and home of a built-in oven for this centuries old stone house in one of many ancient and perfectly preserved hamlets that we stumble upon...

in villages, larger and "newer" houses are animated by painted wood shutters of various harmonious hues, and in warmer weather, always enlivened by colourful floral flourishes...

across from the restaurant where we indulge in moules et frites is an almost tumbling down old fisherman's cottage... I feel a need to rescue it from further neglect and maintain its status as the main house in this minuscule port where brown and weathered fishermen still sit beside their boats smoking and looking quizzically out to sea...

[the last day of my stay the rose bushes in front had burst into a profusion of pale pink blooms...making it an even more irrisistible abode to consider...]

in larger towns elegant villas soar into the intense blue skies and are surrounded by generous gardens of exotic plants...this particular manoir stained a burnished burgundy to impart a semi-tropical ambience framed by the thriving palm trees...

and by my favourite beach a quaint stone house meticulously composed of rounded and varied sized rocks and detailed by pristine white shutters...its understated distinctiveness emboldened by the luxuriant dark foliage of a happy and vigorous prunus...