The past two morning have been cold and damp and the sky has been a flat, even gray. Much like the morning skies I have seen so often in Paris. It has been warmer than Paris in the winter but there's a smell that comes with the overcoat of gray sky, and that smell has been here the past two days. This morning I caught a whiff of diesel fuel; the only thing that would make it better would be the smell of a bakery and that would be perfect. That's the smell of Paris in the early morning: flat gray, diesel and fresh baked bread. Other than fresh cut grass, not a lot of smells grip me like that trifecta.
The first two times I was in Paris it was spring, trees were budding, daffodils and jonquils were blooming. I am fairly certain that every other time I've visited France has been in the late fall or the cold of winter, and gray was the color of the sky, the buildings, the water. Monotone. It makes for a perfect excuse to sit and sip coffee or simply wander the streets with no agenda, hoping the sun never appears, happy to be wrapped in that anonymous gray all day.
Santa Rosa certainly isn't Paris, but it is so lovely to open the door in the morning, see that dull gunmetal gray sky, take a deep breath and smile.
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