On being slightly past prime

We headed to the town of Grignan one sunny day to check out the roses. The drive isn't taxing and there's a lovely tea salon with a garden full of blooms right next to the town's lavoir--a circular pool that was once used for washing--as extra incentive.

Shortly after lunch, we got into our eight-year old Peugeot and headed on our way. I suspect that the rate of calculating the life span of cars is a bit like converting dog years into human ones, and puts our vehicle into something past middle age but not yet doddering. Like us, the car's surface shows some wear and tear and it's been needing a few replacements. The tab was less than the dental replacement that I need but still noticeable. We'd just put on two new tires and felt much safer if a bit poorer as we rolled through the Cotes du Rhone vineyards on our outing. The vines were looking very sprightly, waving their new tendrils straight up in the gently blowing air, in a celebration to spring, youth, rebirth and all the great May growing energy around us.

Once there, we realized that the roses were a bit past their prime too, still lovely but a bit overblown, the way I like to think of myself on a good hair day. A sudden burst of heat must have pushed them along but they made us happy anyway and glad we'd made the effort. From there, we headed for the tea salon, pots of Mariage Freres tea, an apricot rosemary tartlet and serene surroundings. In a wonderful display of life's serendipity, the roses in their small garden were just at peak and we felt doubly rewarded for treating ourselves.

And so,whether springing fresh, at prime or edging towards decline, beauty and life give pleasure to those who seek and see.