One of my all time favorite bloggers over at Tongue in Cheek wrote about her Bastille Day (she's an American living in France). It was celebrated in a simple, magnificent foodie way:
"Celebrating Bastille Day in the South of France -
The fire was set up with oak wood to grill the sardines. Our friends layered the grill with a bed of thyme, laurel, and rosemary. The dinner was set up outside under the cyprus trees. The table was a cornucopia of provencal goodness: Garden tomatoes, fresh green beans with garlic, and roasted potatoes in lemon and olive oil.
In the near distance, behind the stone wall, the town was celebrating as well, the eve of Bastille day. Later we walked over to the town square, laughter mingled with music filled the space between the square and the stars up above. Families gathered around listening to the band, sipping Pastis, celebrating in unison the eve of Bastille Day.
The baker in his blue checked pants stepped out of the bakery to take part of the merriment, he leaned on the fountain and sent a cloud of flour dust when he clapped his hands. The bartender called over to the waiter to send the baker a drink, the baker shook his head declining the offer, "Do you want burnt baguettes tomorrow?"
The bartender took the dishtowel from his pants and snapped it at him.Over the cobblestones, I jitterbugged in the arms of my husband. Children chased each other weaving amongst those of us dancing. As my dress swirled around my legs to the tune of a French song I do not know but have heard a hundred times before, I caught kaleidoscope glimpses of the crowd.
Simplicity.Celebration.Joy.The band was playing when the church bells struck twelve bringing in the new day like fireworks.
Happy Bastille Day."
Is that not the most beautiful snapshot of a life well-lived?
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