Le Pont Vieux

Le Pont Vieux, the Old Bridge leading of course to the famous La Cité.  I have now crossed over this bridge countless times since moving to Carcassonne.  I never tire of admiring and marvelling in its history.  It sounds decidedly corny but whatever the time of day or the month, whatever weather conditions Mother Nature decides to throw at us the sight of the River Aude bubbling away under this ancient monument always lifts my heart.  Whether with friends, family or simply alone, with or without my beloved camera there is always plenty of life to observe both crossing over it and beneath its ancient elegant arches.

During the past few weeks I have struggled over in a blizzard, a freak fall of snow, the heaviest in twenty five years apparently when only days previously people were languidly strolling over and thinking spring had arrived. On one side you have a stunning view of the Pyrenees, last week drenched in snow, on the other the Black Mountains spreading along the skyline.

Along the banks are lovely footpaths to enjoy, surprisingly empty at this time of year.  There are plenty of secluded places to sit and watch the world go by, a gentle climb before the menacing spectacle of the looming shadows of the castle.  Large flat rocks make ideal perches for children and adults alike to dangle their feet in the clear cooling shallow waters.   A plantation of pines and cyprus bushes should fill the air with a Meditteranean aroma when the hot sun arrives and I spy picnic benches under their branches.

We paused for a while, The Small Cross One and I on Mothers Day warming our backs in the afternoon sun and watching someone meditate alone on the rocks.  We contemplated the simple pleasures that are so readily and freely available right here on our doorstep.

'I never imagined it would be so peaceful here' I said outloud whilst privately wishing I had landed here far sooner for I for one need more than a view to nourish my soul. ' 'We should have moved here before now,' she echoed my thoughts.

And I sat and contemplated the fast racing water rushing along, for however quickly time slips by sometimes an awful lot of water has to flow under the bridge before you get to where you want.