Postcards from Avignon & the not to be brocante

This weekend past I made a futile attempt at treasure hunting.

A slow Sunday morning was forgotten for an early morning start, my alarm rang out shrilly at the crack of dawn and bleary eyed I drove 55 mins to find the marché aux puces had been cancelled at the last minute, no reason was given. I stood alone in a desserted town square feeling very silly, little forlorn and cold with the Mistral howling around me. I thought of my warm bed and childrens morning cuddles that I could have been having right then.

Determined to make the best of it , I took the time to stroll (not run), to take photographs and soak in the architecture of the oldest streets of Avignon.

Old meets new and somehow it works.

I looked up and caught a glimpse of this joyful window dressing and smiled.

I would love to meet the person who lives in this tiny top floor apartment. Most of us dress the interiors of our home for our own pleasure and it made me wonder about the person who lives here, and I imagine them dressing their windowsill to spread happiness to passerbys.