When I started this blog, I included a category called “Transitions.” The idea was to write every time we went back and forth between Italy and France. The passage through the Alps is always stunning and serves, really and metaphorically, to remind me that Transitions-R-Us, that as living beings on a living planet we are always in flux, passing from one state to the next, experiencing both the breathtaking vistas and the long, dark tunnels along the way.
I’ve written about the Mont Blanc tunnel, the crops beside the road, the baguette that rides on the dash for the entire 7 hour journey and the sheer majesty of the peaks. But there’s an aspect of the coming and going that I’ve never showed you, because it would have been impossible. I am passionate about hitting the proverbial road and going where it takes you. But I’m also riveted to the sky. To shifting clouds. To airplanes passing overhead. To the idea that all around us is an airy connective tissue of cloud and climate that has seen it all. A car is great. But what if I had wings? What if instead of going through Monte Bianco, I could fly over it? That would be my dream.
Obviously, outside my fantasies, it will never happen. But today, I saw this very special view of the French Alps, and I felt that I’d come close. I have to share it with you:
Thanks to my dear husband for sharing it with me.