doors and gates, horizons, birds and colors

I have been in France for over a week now, and it seems a good time to post. I am not going to post a view of the town from up near the orchards - if you are interested, you can look back through this blog and I am sure you will find one because I have dozens of them in my collection of pictures and I can't imagine I have not posted at least one.  It is a nice view, for sure.  I painted it yesterday.  But today, something different.
 This part of the world has had an extremely dry summer and while a lot of things - the rose bush in my  garden, for example - look much the worse for wear, the land from a distance looks quite spectacular.  I guess it takes a lot to brown down a tree, because, though grass everywhere has dried to a golden, reddish ochre, the trees retain their dark green leaves.  I know that we would all feel better in a way, if the dynamic were the other way around - the grass lush and green and the leaves on the trees starting to change to their fall colors, but there you are.  Can't have everything and I, for one, find this topsy turvy landscape rather lovely. A couple of shots, above.
 Then there are the doors.  I have only put a few photos of them up, but, believe me, there are many more where those come from.  The one that really knocks me out is the turquoise door on the rue St Anne with a strange bas-relief face in it as if someone on the other side is pressing their face through it in an effort to see what's going on outside.
  Then there are  pictures of birds, self-explanatory.  A dove sitting on a lamppost and two geese - happily eating their fill, with no idea in the world that they are destined for the Christmas table.
 And finally, colors.  You would think that a small french village would be colorful, but in the case of AC and many of the surrounding hamlets, you would be wrong.  These are dull, grey places - charming in their way - but definitely lacking in vivid color.  The doors are all painted muted shades of green and blue (but for the turquoise above), the roofs are the grayish red of the ardoise, and the people - it must be said - are also a wee bit drab.  But every so often, there is the shock of bright hue.  The orange slate of the shed, for instance, or the brilliant reds and oranges of the fattened fruits and vegetables you can see in the gardens at this time of year, even despite the drought.