Milky mist persisted throughout the morning, adding a charmingly fuzzy ambience to my walk. When I walk for exercise, which I pretty much hate but know I have to do, I use an app to satisfy my competitive needs. I think it’s so sweet of Nike to call it a “Running App” … as if!!

This morning, I combined exercise with running [there’s that running thingy again!] errands, making La Poste my first stop. I dropped off a pre-paid return package with rejected merchandise to the vendor in Germany and purchased some stamps. After my postal interlude, I added a quick stop at the bistro next door to “faire la bise” [cheek kissing to say hello] with friends there before setting off on my walk along the river Charente.

From the river bank, I followed an uphill course back into town stopping here and there to either catch my breath or an image.

Eventually descending back down to river levels a bit further South than my starting point.

Just a quick Wiki aside: The word Diospyros comes from the ancient Greek words “dios” (διός) and “pyros” (πυρος). In context, this means more or less “divine fruit”, though its literal meaning is closer to “Wheat of Zeus”. It is, however, sufficiently confusing to have given rise to some curious interpretations, such as “God’s pear” and “Jove’s fire”. The Modern Greek name for the fruit is λωτός (lotos) which leads modern Greeks to the assumption that this is the lotus referred to in Homer’s Odyssey. … The word persimmon itself is derived from … an Algonquian language meaning “a dry fruit”.

Depending on location, some patches of fog remained quite dense and eerie throughout the morning. It was odd to see the reflections on the water’s surface appear crisper than the actual objects.

Crossing the pedestrian bridge to rive droite, I hastened along rue Saint Pallais to drop off some paperwork at my physician’s office. Owing to our seriously advanced ages, we’re allegeable for free cancer screening. All you have to do is fill out a form to get the ball rolling, very efficient! No co-pay or deductible charged, nor any other hassles. Simply part of this evil called socialized medicine …

On my way home I approached my beloved L’Arc de Germanicus from the East, the direction an ancient traveller on the via Agrippa coming from Lugdunum would have arrived in Mediolanum Santonum, Saintes, those two thousand years ago – less the pastel Christmas landscape and the three-story townhouse alongside the street, naturally.

Closing in on the arch, two bright blue motorized vehicles parked right beneath it.

Adding in the blue Häagan Dazs ice cream cart at the corner bar, these shiny blue accents rendered this whole milky scene mildly surreal.

What do you think?