Her dilapidated lock-side cottage had been shock enough, but the cracked bare banks of the Midi stunned me into silence.
Gone were the colonnades of plane trees, dappling the banks with their restless leafy cover. Now ugly steel pilings stood where once gnarled, knotted roots had supported the canal as it wound towards the sea.
“Chancre coloré” said grand-mère, “wiped them out from here to Carcassonne.”
In the distance workmen toiled under the blazing sun, leaving a trail of puny upright saplings.
“A new strain; they say it’s resistant.”
“Ugly though,” I said.
Grand-mère grinned toothlessly.
“Not everything that is young is beautiful, ma chère. Some things take time.”
Apologies for being late to my own party here – just saw that this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt was one of my own photos, taken at the lock which drops down to the port basin at Briare, a town which unites the river Loire and its lateral canal with the Loing and so with the Seine. It seems rude not to participate when it’s your own photo, and as I’m preoccupied with something else right now, I’m afraid it’s only a re-tread. Those who know me will recall that I’ve been banging on about the demise of the Plane tree for years. Sorry! 😦 Thanks once again to Rochelle for her endeavours.
The last line says it all.
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Thank you! 🙂
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Gorgeous rhythm to this piece, Sandra. Thanks for the photograph, too. Lovely spot.
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Thank you, glad you liked them both.
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Absolute cracker of a last line. Nicely done.
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Thank you! 🙂
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Nicely said in few words, as ever, Sandra!
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Thanks Sue. I don’t seem to have the time to say anything in more than a few words these days. 🙂
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Ah, but you are mistress of the minimal!!
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Dear Sandra,
Revisiting anything you’ve written is a treat. No apologies for retreading. Well done, and has been said, that last line says so much. Thank you for the photo. You’re quite the hand with the camera.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you Rochelle. Now that I see the photo, I realise I could have improved on it with a few editing techniques, but I thought the subject matter, or a combination thereof, would give plenty of scope to the Fictioneers.
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Highest quality as ever, Sandra.
Sadly, more than the beautiful plane trees are threatened by disease along this coast now.
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Thank you, CE. And I’m sorry to hear that. So much of France has changed in the eight years that we’ve been cruising there. Some for the better, but it’s the parts that haven’t that stick in your mind.
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I hadn’t read this before, Sandra, so it was a new joy
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Thank you Neil. If I’m offering up a re-tread, as I seem to do more and more these days since my muse deserted me, I try to go as far back in my FF history as possible. I think this was probably around the mid point.
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It’s so tragic about the plane trees. They’ll all go in the end. They’ve chopped down loads in Bordeaux already.
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I got the idea for this one when we were waiting for the staircase locks at Trebes on the Midi. At the top there, it was absolutely barren of trees and the midday sun was excruciating. It was difficult to imagine that the poor saplings would surive.
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At least they’re replanting. There has been a muttering for years though that the platanes should be chopped down. Poor motorists find the flickering tree shadow soporific and dangerous. It probably suits the motorist lobby.
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Personally I think a few bent cars are a small price to pay for these beautiful trees.
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Me too. If a road is dangerous, drive slower…
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Indeed. Time required for saplings to grow.
Enjoyed writing for your photograph. Thanks 🙂
Have a great week!
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Thanks Anita, and the same to you.
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Thanks Sandra for sharing the photograph and I’m pleased to know where it was taken. I echo other comments about the last line…brilliant.
xx Rowena
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Thanks Rowen, glad you liked it.
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I was later and I too liked the last line.
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Thanks, James.
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I find the last line so beautiful and so true. Masterfully done.
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Thank you! 🙂
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I’m still waiting! A simply delightful piece Sandra.
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Thanks, Keith.
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It’s so true. Some things need time to reach their potential, like fine wines. So sad to hear about the plane trees. in my hometown, a disease wiped out all the Elm trees. I feel robbed. They were supposed to be everywhere. Lovely story and a great picture, Sandra!
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Thank you. Sorry about your elm trees. We had something similar a while back in the north of England. Everywhere looks so barren once robbed of the trees we’ve become used to.
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What is late? Thank you for the lovely photo, Sandra. And re-tread or not, this was fabulously done, as per usual.
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Thank you Dale. 🙂 (Late for me is anytime after 10am.)
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Funny Lady…
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I tell the last line to my wife all the time, but she doesn’t seem to buy it. Expertly done Sandra.
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Many thanks, Iain.
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Restless leafy cover. Lovely image. The young ones will, we must trust, be beautiful in time.
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I’m hoping so. Thanks for reading, Jilly.
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Ugly Ducklings unite! And how I love the word dabbling. It says so much as it rolls off the tongue.
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Dappling is such an evocative word. No other word describes so eloquently the effect of sunlight reflecting off the water onto a bridge. Thanks for visiting, Alicia.
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An important lesson to learn from Grand-mere. Mature beauty is a whole world away from the beauty of youth.
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Thank you for reading, and commenting.
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I had never heard about the plane trees and how they are dying… Here in Sweden the elms are dying, including many who was saved by protests in the 60s… Love the parallel to the old woman who sees the new trees that she will never see. There is a cycle of life there.
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The back story to the demise of the plane trees is that the virus entered France through arms shipments which arrived in Marseille from the USA during WW2. Apparently they were crated up in undetected infected wood from plane trees. That’s why it hit first along the Midi and has gradually been spreading northwards from there. Boaters who tie their boats to infected trees and their roots (which form the banks to the Midi) carry the infection onward on their ropes. And of course, it spreads naturally anyway.
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You’ve written that story really beautifully. “Gone were the colonnades of plane trees, dappling the banks with their restless leafy cover.” That’s exactly what plane trees do – wonderful description on your part. And Grandmere’s voice is wonderful; I can hear her very clearly.
Smashing writing, Sandra!
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Thank you, Penny, so glad you liked it.
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Glad you pulled out an old one – a good one – I had not read it before. Thanks for the photo prompt.
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Thanks for reading, Irene.
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What a powerful last line.
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Thank you!
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Fantastic last line.
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Thank you, James.
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I might be beating a beaten drum, but the last line was just perfect. Expertly done, Sandra.
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Many thanks! 🙂
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Sadly, things change over time. A great pic, Sandra!
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They do indeed. Thanks for visiting.
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😊
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I adore that last line.
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Thank you! 🙂
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awesome. the story fits the picture very well.
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Thank you!
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Wise words.
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That’s grannies for you! 🙂
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I’d not heard of this disease (or indeed plane trees). I hope they can beat it somehow.
Great last line!
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They are breeding resistant strains these days, thankfully. But of course it will be years before the canals are restored to their former glory.
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At the cost of over repeating what has been said countless times in this thread, i will say the last line was simply memorable.
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Thank you Neel. I appreciate that.
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Wonderfully written, as always.
Inspiring last line.
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Thanks!
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Grand-mèreis wise and beautiful it seems. Such beautiful pictures you paint, even of dilapidation and destruction.
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Thanks for reading, Sarah Ann.
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Her grandmother is wise. Great story, great photo.
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Many thanks, Liz.
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As has been said, the last line is just beautiful for so many reasons. Truth in one sentence.
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Thank you!
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A beautiful name for such an ugly disease.
Thanks for the prompt.
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Yes, it is an ugly disease, indeed.
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Colonnades of trees…. so aptly described. Well the saplings will take time for fruition.
https://ideasolsi65.blogspot.in/2018/03/the-villa.html
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One thing you can’t buy.
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Sandra, I too focused on the weird looking trees. But all that came to mind was Broccoli. Loved your story.
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Not quite the same ring to it – Broccoli Tree. 🙂 Thanks.
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That’s why your stories are so word wonderful.
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Wonderfully done, Sandra, and so thoughtful.
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Thank you Sascha 🙂
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It’s Monday here, and I’m just now reading and commenting on blogs. Won’t get to all of them, but always make a point to read yours. This is where I learn how to write.
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Awww, thanks Russell. And your blog is where I learn to redecorate my laptop with half chewed toast and coffee!
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You story stands as a memorial to all the tree species we’re losing – Elms, Horse Chestnut, Plane, all sadly falling victim to killers that are so hard to control. I loved Grand Mere’s toothy wisdom – some things do improve with age! Lovely story Sandra
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Thanks Lynn. Nothing sadder than the death of a once magnificent tree.
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PS if you don’t get anywhere with the Flash 500 s/story, google the Bath Fiction Comp. 🙂
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Very true
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I love Grand-mere’s wisdom. 🙂 Lovely story!
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Thank you, Jan.
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The last line made me think of fine wine. It’s in the aging that gives it the wonderful taste.
I enjoyed your photo for this week prompt. You never disappoint with your stories. I’m sure the photo brought back a memory or two.
Isadora 😎
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Yes, it’s a while since we were around that neck of the woods. Thanks for visiting, Isadora.
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Yes, it is sad when the past is torn down for the present, but, as she said, some things take time.
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They do indeed. Thanks for visiting.
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Gorgeous descriptions. And a great message.
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A wise and well told story- evokes the place and the ambience very well. Agree that the last line is brilliant.
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