Fountain 51 Rioms e Montagnes 26 August

                                         " Fountain 51.  Cantal. wishes for Ali. cold and wet."

were the only comments I made in my very weathered fountain notebook.

 And now, nearly a year later, how clear the olfactory memories are:
  fresh rain on dusty tarmac and low clouds tinged with the warm honey scent of gorse flowers.

Nevertheless, the rain had already sodden my gloves and boots hours ago.
My wet hands and feet were freezing and the intrepid explorer in me
wanted only a dry tent, a hot shower and a nice cup of tea.

 If there was a campsite nearby it was hidden in the mists of this high and remote area.

 The fuel warning light had been illuminated for quite a while, like an elbow poke, warning me something like, "no pressure but you might get stranded here, soaked to the skin with an equally wet tent in the middle of nowhere with one shriveled carrot and a half a bag of peanuts." 

Despite the thousands of miles I've driven in France, I've never been able to fully understand the French relationship to petrol stations.

Italy seems to have an unannounced petrol station every few hundred yards.

In France, I've grown to doubt the road signs for the various supermarkets with their promise of 24/7 petrol. Too many times I have driven miles off course chasing an illusive E.Leclerc or Carrefour to discover that the petrol station was shut for lunch or because it is after 7pm and my credit card is rejected by the self-service machine.

                                                                     

       Rioms' fountain was built up against the church wall which is a bit unusual.

        (I am trying to be more careful with my "never seen this before"exclamations which only prove how unobservant I really am.)

 

                         Oops sorry sorry sorry... this cute little wonky Jesus was actually in Rioms
                                       not   "Fountain 50   Roffiac    25 August"

Fountain 50 Roffiac 25 August

                                                        
                                                              The tower at Rouffiac

The weather had changed quite suddenly after a sunny morning in Le-Puy.
A white grey sky threatened a passive sort of rain as I went deeper into the misty wilds of the Cantal.

The tower at Roffiac is only a half round and it sits unassumingly at the side of the road. Had it been a full round tower, I probably wouldn't have stopped. What appeared to be "missing" was more interesting than what was present.

I wish now that I had read the signs.
Or maybe I had and have forgotten what they said.

So often in life we either misread or forget the signs and then wonder why we end up in
 awkward and uncomfortable predicaments.

Even my 24-7 guru, Wikipedia, had little to offer apart from the absolute basics.
So now I know Roffiac has 27 people per square km.
 My mostly rural county, Devon, has 169 people per square km which is slightly more than Andorra's 167 and enormously less than Macao SAR China which has 19,885 people per square km.

Fortunately, or not, depending on how you look at it, Macao has only 31.3 km.

	Crucified Jesus with many ribs
		Very cute Jesus with a curiously wonky hand and leg. The cross also includes a serpent, a sheep, two small heads and something which reminds me of Sheelanagig, the sculpture, (http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/pe_mla/s/sheela-na-gig.aspx) not Sheelanagig, the band from Bristol, who are also very good.
	Fountain at Roffiac

Fountain 21 The Tree of Life or p.s. something I have found right under my nose, so to speak.

Silly me.
Having said on my Fountain 21 post:

  "Dore-L'Eglise
 c. 15th-16th Century stone cross depicting baby Jesus swaddled 
and patient in anticipation

 of his ultimate crucifixion thirty-three years later.

 

I have never seen this iconography on any of the hundreds of French stone crosses that I come across in my travels.....etc etc..."


                            
                   I then found this small (10x15 cm), low relief image of the swaddled baby Jesus.

It was hanging on the wall in my bedroom where it has hung for 15 years and suddenly, in my more domestic travels with a dusting cloth, I see it afresh.

The inscription INRI, Iesvs Nazarenvs Rex Ivdaeorvm  (Latin for "Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews") that was mounted above Jesus' head at the time of his crucifixion by the ironic Pontius Pilate, is replaced by a little plaque inscribed with "Arbor Vitae" at his feet.


I am always fascinated by the process of communication and the power of the symbolic inferences in the words we so easily use willy-nilly.

The Tree of Life can mean many things, sacred and profane, to many people:

• Mesoamerican world tree
• Tree of life (biblical), a tree in the Garden of Eden
• Tree of life (Kabbalah), a mystical concept within the Kabbalah of Judaism
• Tree of Life (Latter-day Saints), described in the Book of Mormon
• Tree of life vision, a more detailed description of Nephi's vision of the Tree of Life contained in the Book of Mormon
• Etz Chaim, a religious Hebrew term for "Tree of Life"
• Yggdrasil, the world tree in Norse mythology

                        

• Tree of life (biology), a metaphor describing the interrelatedness of living things through evolution
• Tree of Life Web Project, a collaborative project providing information about the diversity and phylogeny of life on Earth
• Arborvitae (Latin for "tree of life"), Thuja, a genus of coniferous trees
• Arbor vitae (anatomy) (Latin for "tree of life"), the cerebellar white matter, named for its branched, tree-like appearance
• Baobabs (sometimes called the "tree of life"), a genus of African tree
•  arbor vitæ uteri, a part of the canal of the cervix
   

• The Tree of Life, English version of Geedka nolosha (1988), a short film from Somali writer and director Abdulkadir Ahmed Said
• Charles Darwin and the Tree of Life, a 2009 BBC documentary
• T.o.L. ("Trees of Life"), is the collective name for the creators of the film Tamala 2010: A Punk Cat in Space
• The Tree of Life (film), a 2011 film directed by Terrence Malick
•  

• The Tree of Life, novel by Chava Rosenfarb 1972
• The Tree of Life, novel by Hugh Nissenson 1985
• The Tree of Life (Bernice Summerfield), a 2005 Dr Who novel by Mark Michalowski
• The Tree of Life, an exposition of magick written by Israel Regardie in 1932
• Tree-of-Life, a plot device in the Known Space science fiction stories

==Sculpture==*Wrap Sculptures series, Edenic collapsed-volume wrap sculpture "Trees Of Life" installations developed by Peter G Pereira, New York City

• Metaphor: The Tree of Utah, a sculpture in the Utah desert also known as the "Tree of Life"
• Tree of Life (craft) a clay sculpture style associated with Metepec, Mexico State
• Tree of Life (Kester) a Mozambican sculpture now in the British Museum
• Tree of Life (White), a sculpture at Mitchell Boulevard Park in Milwaukee, Wisconsin

• The Tree of Life (Cecil Taylor album), a 1998 album by Cecil Taylor
• The Tree of Life (soundtrack), a 2011 album by Alexandre Desplat; in association with film directed by Terrence Malick
• Tree of Life (Lila Downs album), album by Lila Downs
 

• The Tree of Life (Disney), the icon of Disney's Animal Kingdom
• The Tree of Life (module), an accessory for the Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game
• Tree of Life Christian Schools, a private school system in and near Columbus, Ohio
• Tree of Life, Bahrain, a solitary tree in the desert of Bahrain
• Árbol del Tule, a huge tree in Mexico also known as the "Tree of Life"
• The Tree of Life Rejuvenation Center run by Gabriel Cousens

Wikipedia, again I bow down to you as a starting point and an ending point and all the points in between for the information/misinformation you so generously give.

Fountain 49 at the base of St Michel d' Aiguilhe Le Puy-en-Valey

I have already written about this visit in Le-Puy-en-Valey August 25, 2013
however, I am in my own personal and generally mistaken way, thorough and methodical,
and Fountain 49 comes after Fountain 48.

                                          The fountain at the base of St. Michael d' Aiguile

           

    Detail of the fountain with the Archangel Michael stamping down Satan, a fallen angel.

Interestingly, in these days of accusation, disharmony and divide between Christians (a term used very loosely because although being Christian is not fashionable, celebrating Christmas and Easter is ubiquitous) Jews and Muslims is an important commonality. 

All three religions believe that Archangel Michael is a leading angel 

who fights evil with the power of good.

He is the only angel mentioned by name in all three of the major sacred texts of the world's religions: the Torah (Judaism), the Bible (Christianity), and the Qur'an (Islam). 

If everyone is "believing" the same thing 

why are there so many problems with world peace and all that stuff?

Ok, hands up those who don't believe.

Fallen man is not allowed.

                
                                       Trefoil arch above the entrance to St. Michael's Church

The reliefs within this curious arch depict the Lamb of God (labeled with AGNUS DEI) 

in the center and four Elders of the Apocalypse hold vials on either side. 

Above the arch are elaborate vines populated with birds and two human figures

 with "Green Men" under their feet.

Below the arch are vines which issue from the mouths of large human heads 

and contain birds pecking at grapes.

The lintel is carved with two mermaids: one with a snake's tail and one with the tail of a fish.

I frequently come across these charming creatures in France and Italy.

And if my eyes were more open, I might find them more often in England.

Something I hadn't mentioned in my first writing about the history of St. Michael's Chapel:

There are three great stones, considered to be the remains of a prehistoric dolmen built 

at the top of the rock, that have been incorporated into St. Michael's Chapel.

Then later the Romans worshiped Mercury, the swift messenger god

 with his winged shoes at the site. 

When the area was eventually converted to Christianity the rock was consecrated

 to St. Michael the Archangel, the patron of high places.

the next 59 fountains - International Invitation to Make a Wish RSVP

I had considered different 59s for this year's travels.

59 Martyrs

59 Frescoes

59 Ice creams

59 Campsites

 59 Rivers

59 Saints

59 Bridges

59 People

59 Grafitti

59 Cakes

And then I thought I should make it 60.

After all, another year has passed.

However "59" rolls off the tongue nicely and fountains move me.

They are democratic places.

Domestic, romantic, indispensable.

They serve man, woman and beast without prejudice.

This is an International Invitation- open to anyone. everyone.

Please send me your name and your wish.

 I will visit a fountain, collect its water,

throw a coin and respectfully wish your wish for you.

Fountain 48 Thuyets 24 August

 

This was a day of retracing my steps.

Past the pylons and nuclear power station. 

Past the idle men in the bleak cafe with cigarettes dangling from their lips.

Past the dust and dogs and tourists and traffic with an overwhelming 

sense of desolation which clung to me. 

I tried to console myself with the joyous anticipation of where I was going.

Even a large melting scoop of chocolate fondant ice cream

 didn't help with the sinking feeling.

I stopped in Thuyets to stretch my legs and to escape an estate car packed to the gills with inflatable dinghies and blonde children which sat on my tail and refused to overtake me.

I did my usual wandering about but was still out of sorts. Feeling disgruntled, disenchanted, disappointed but unable to put my finger on the reason for this black cloud, I passed through an arched opening and made my way past a few men playing boules.

 I perched myself on a low stone wall and proceeded to slice

 cheese and tomatoes for a very late lunch.

The boules players took their turns at throwing, measuring, shaking their heads. 

I received an occasional glance, a "bon appetite" and wondered if perhaps I shouldn't be

there with my opinel and blue enameled plate. 

Maybe this wasn't a park but perhaps somebody's private garden.

After a very good throw, a gentleman sauntered over and offered me a coffee.

Expecting something tepid in a plastic beaker poured from a thermos flask, 

I was surprised when he emerged from the chateau

with an elegant white cup and saucer, milk jug and pot of sugar cubes.

He introduced himself to me as the previous mairie of Thuyets.

We posed for photos while his friends called out what I guessed to be

"put your arm around her"

"kiss her cheek"

Then we said good bye.

Opposite the fountain, a man wearing only a yellow vest was on his balcony 

whistling a disjointed tune. He rattled the many bird cages hanging

amidst a jungle of pot plants. Then poured the dregs from their feeders into the road, 

refilled them with a jug and clicked their doors shut.

Fountain 47 outside the town gate Banon 23 August

It was one of those scorching days where the lavender oil vaporizes and sits heavily

 in the air mingling with whatever else is there: dust, onions sauteing in olive oil, 

diesel from an old, flesh coloured Citroen. 

In Banon it merged with the acrid smell of melting tarmac.

Louise's sidestand sunk into the oozing black. I had to run and find a large flat stone 

to displace some of her weight before she toppled over.
Then we'd have to stand around waiting for a "big strong man" type of person to rescue us.

A fallen motorcycle has the same pitiful demeanor of a beached whale.
 

The streets were virtually empty. 

It was lunchtime and I was one of the mad dogs and Englishmen out in the midday sun.

 (and wearing my leather motorcyclist's trousers to further prove the point.)

(( Noel Coward's  "Mad Dogs and Englishmen"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2YvYiWtovM

or/and

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXxL2K3_-4c ))

 

And then I came upon this notice.

          

One open window revealed a single room museum of rural life to be viewed

 only from this external vantage point.

Through the other window one looked into a dim and surreal world of extraordinary beasts.

 

 Town gate and wall.

Up a steep but firmly cobbled road 

the fountain in the niche is a welcome sight for the 

weary and long traveled.

Although now mostly ornamental, I gratefully refilled my bottle.
I leaned against the shaded wall, drank the contents and
refilled it again for the next leg of my journey.