"The Chateau," cont.

In the cold, damp mornings, she can always find him with pup in the garden.  A close resemblance to the neighboring bourgeoisie gardens, but whose rigidity and structure were long ago blended into loose borders and happily spreading grasses.  He walks through the trodden pebble paths with no great purpose but to be present and lightly thoughtful.  Always humbled by the natural wonders around him and never missing a chance to take a deep breath.  He takes his time, always.

A small limestone bench sits at the far end of the garden, happily and almost completely hidden by purple and yellow wildflowers.  He pauses here at times...revisiting favorite passages from a worn down book, or embarking on new adventures from crisper pages.

Though he never sits for too long.  Always calmly anxious to move through his surroundings.  Sometimes alone.  Sometimes with pup.  And sometimes with her on his arm, laughing and loving and observing the green infinity around them