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Saint-Emilion in all seasons - Ambre's favourite

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Saint-Emilion Tourisme
Place des Créneaux
33330 SAINT-EMILION

05 57 55 28 28

accueil@saint-emilion-tourisme.com

www.saint-emilion-tourisme.com

Stroll through the seasons in Saint-Emilion ...

What a jewel! Charm of yesteryear and joy of the moment have given me an appointment.

 

 

In the month of May do as you please! It was a Sunday with Sophie from Normandy, and what luck the sun was pouring down on us! After a picnic at the castle, we wandered among the vines and poppies, then we headed for Montagne and its nice mills, what a picture! Some merry people invited us to taste the bread and wine, we could see the children caracoling under their wings which squared the sky nicely ...


Juin sang on summer evenings with his friends, when the countryside bloomed with cut grass, earth and fig trees, and wine slipped down my throat... I yawned at the crows, jazz notes escaped in the distance, little stars came into my ears.



In August, the sun is everywhere, on the blonde facades, between the rows of vines, and in the smiles of passers-by. On our bikes, we were riding among friends, we greeted the Angelus, and around the bend, surprise, a beautiful ploughing animal... A white horse! It was led by a young English girl who had come to work in the area to join her Gironde lover!



October and its wonders. The vermeil light pierced through the vine leaves and their pretty lace. And the Dordogne shuddered with its shimmering, shimmering beads, and the whole shoreline, the birch trees, the willows, the poplars of the valley adorned themselves in gold!



I also remember a small romantic dewy morning, the dew beading on the web of a spider at work on the gate of the Clos Fourtet.


In the cold of January, Charline was waiting for me at Place Stalingrad, in Bordeaux. On the road, we spent the time chatting. Arriving at Place du Clocher very early, we went to see the valley in the mist and the pinkish sky coming out of its torpor.



And here comes spring! The mornings are clear, after the côte de la Madeleine, the poppies dance gently along the low stone walls. The road winds and already the bell tower is pointing its nose, here I am! Magic of the moment, the village invites me to push the doors of time ...

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