FrenchKate is letting me down these days, mired as she is in everyday reality. I, however, am retired and I am not mired. So today I'm dreaming of France. The chateau where we had an Armagnac tasting. Hot summer day, the drone of cicadas, the deer lying in the shade of the park, lovely old stone walls with just a touch of soft gold to warm them, not to mention the Armagnac itself. I am not remembering the group of annoying teens and their even more annoying (because less excuseable) chaperons. Hey, it's my memory. I can be selective if I want to be.
3 comments:
That deer looks pregnant. Or just contented?
I think I recognize Chateau de Cassaigne in the Gers! Just wanted to drop you a note to say thank you for thinking of Armagnac and writing about it. I hope you will come back soon rather than having to dream about it.
Best wishes, Amanda Garnham
Attachée de Presse for the Armagnac bureau
That was a magical place and a lovely day, wasn't it? I also don't remember the out-of-control Filipino teenagers and their drunken chaperons. I especially remember the sensation of the gravel entrance to that beautiful building, the cool damp of the rooms that we toured, the flowers, the deer, the stillness, the vines. ...and I am wearing my amber petit souvenir d'Auch this morning! All your pictures remind me of that lovely day.
Amanda Garnham is right, it was the Château de Cassaigne in the Gers. The armagnac was, of course, worthy of kings.
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