Os campos de França estavam cheios de papoilas e outras flores silvestres… um espectáculo digno de ser visto. Sempre que passávamos por campos assim, lembrava-me deste quadro de Monet:
The fields of France were full of poppies and other wildflowers… what a view. Whenever we’d go through fields like these, I’d think of this paiting by Monet:
Claude Monet, Les Pavots à Argenteuil, 1873, Musée d’Orsay, Paris
Noutro campo, não resisti a fazer um ramo com o que havia à mão. Ah, como gosto de flores espontâneas!
In another field, I couldn’t resist making a small bouquet with whatever I could find. Oh, how I love spontaneous flowers!
[behind the scenes]
(images: Tiago Cabral)
Constanca Cabral 
Lindas flores, belas paisagens
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Obrigada por me fazer sentir a beleza dos campos da França e Inglaterra mesmo estando do outro lado do Atlântico.
Sou sua visitante assídua e apreciadora do seu blog.
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I do so love your spontaneous bouquets! I crave them all… 😉
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Concha,
What wonderful flowers ! If you want to keep your poppies for (quite) a long time in a vase, you have to burn the end of the stem, so that the sap remains in the stem.
Anne from France
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Beautiful poppies and cute shoes, too!
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Wow, fields of flowers, the pictures are so pretty. I love your scarf and your shoes. 🙂
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Oh gorgeous poppies!! 🙂
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Oi Concha
Esta viagem é dos sonhos de qualquer um.
Uma paissagem deslumbrante.
è como estar dento de um quadro de Monet, realmente.
Parabéns.
Bjos
Suzi
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São realmente uma maravilha os campos assim! Espero que já esteja mais quentinho aí!
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These landsape full of poppies also reminds me of this painting by Michele Cascella
http://www.wannenesgroup.com/img/visualizzatore/asta38_378.jpg
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Wow, Elisa, it's true! It really looks like that painting!
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nice shoes conchita! mandei.te um mail mas n aparece nos meus mais enviados…por acaso recebeste?paula
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Gosto mais dos ténis! 😉
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The sight of those poppies is always bitter-sweet to me, and I am reminded of this poem written in 1915 by a Canadian soldier, which is always read here in Australia on ANZAC Day. (The day we commemorate those lost in conflict).
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Oh Lindy, what a beautiful but sad, sad poem… Yes, the fields of France and Belgium are filled with blood from WWI, not to mention everything that happened in WWII…
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que vontade de ir para esse lugar agora…um mês de “retiro espiritual zen”:))
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Belíssimas imagens, fotografias marcantes, imagino como você se sentiu dentro de um quadro de Monet!
Adorei teu blog, sou do Brasil. beijos!
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So very beautiful! Your blog is lovely, like a small holiday from daily life.
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tb gostei muito do lenço 🙂
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