I always say instead of kids we have houses. Houses we’ve owned, houses we’ve sold, houses we dream about. Sometimes it seems like all we ever think about is houses and France is no cure for that. Here in Semur there are many lovely ones and over the spring and summer I hope to give you a first rate tour. Here’s one that amazes me every time I see it.
It’s something isn’t it? This one is likely the grandest here in town. It’s unlike all the other ones in that it looks like it’s been magically transported, like there’s a giant hole left in an elegant street in Paris when the house was plucked like a flower and repotted in a small town in Burgundy.
It’s an architectural marvel in my view. The back side of the house is completely round with multiple balconies and terraces that look over the river and medieval church. I’ve yet to discover the history of this place but I can tell you this, I have never once seen anyone there. Imagine owning this and never walking through the gates?
All over town there are gorgeous homes closed up except for a weekend here and there. See I couldn’t do it. If I owned this place I’d have to stand on the balcony all day, in jodhpurs and polished riding boots, my white chiffon scarf trailing behind me in the breeze, sipping an ice-cold whatever while waiting for Neil to serve me dinner on the terrace. After dinner I’d have to change into one of my many gowns and stand motionless on the balcony gazing at the moon.
Maybe this one’s not for me. Never mind the mortgage payments, it’s the wardrobe that would put me under.