Creating an impression

I've spent a fair bit of time extolling the virtues of the landscape of Southern Burgundy - the beauty, the colours, the textures and hues. However, nature is not the only provider of such wonders, the people of this region offer a huge array of splendour all of their own making and I'd like to share some of this today. As Mark and I have had so many friends and family members over visiting recently, we finally got around to taking some time out to visit places and events that we'd only ever heard of or read about. First up for an afternoons jaunt were two artisans just a hands throw from home. Pascale Grisard paints on fabric and her colourful designs capture the flora and fauna of these parts. I was bought a great painting of a charollais cow as a house warming gift several years back. I named her 'Monalisa vache' as her big brown eyes seemed to follow me around the kitchen. This time I received a cockerel (thank you aunty Jean!) who now proundy presides over the living room. As well as paintings, Pascal also produces lampshades, cushions, scarves - the list goes on.

Next it was off to glass artist Jean Charles Doyen. We were treated to a demonstration of his remarkable skill as he crafted a goose from two sticks of glass. His minute insects were incredible to see (we've now started a collection of these) and I now know where this years Christmas presents will be coming from. In contrast to Jean Charle's miniature marvels, the magnificent metalic sculpture that stands sentinel at La Butte de Suin is immense. La butte de Suin is a prominent rocky hilltop above the small village of Suin where bullet holes can still be seen in the wall marking the place the village's mayor was shot for failure to comply with Nazi occupiers.

But on to jollier things - cakes.
The effort and craftmanship that goes into these delicacies is remarkable and the cake shop in Cluny has to be my all time favourite place to buy cakes. Exquisite!!

Art comes in many forms and we were blessed with fine weather (after an unseasonaly bad start to June) for the Macon Music Festival. Every street corner, every square and every car park had a stage, amps, fancy lighting and music eminating. As we wandered from one street to the next we were treated to rock, blues, folk and trance. The dancing (organised and spontaneous alike) lifted spirits and a natural high ensued. I had to be dragged away but not before one last enthusiatic cavort with my friends on the third floor of the central carpark.