Verdant Cloisters and Summer Rains

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

I once stayed at a house in Mexico where it was impossible to tell what was inside, and what was out. Behind a high wall, lush cloisters flowed into gracious rooms. I ate mangos every morning and it rained every afternoon. Only one other person inhabited it at the time, and so my days were spending exploring the seemingly endless labyrinth alone. I was young and romantic, and it was humid and unfamiliar—a combination that resulted in a particularly poignant sense of enchantment.

I fell in love with the house as I have with a few other places in my life. Our love affair was brief, but passionate, and those days of echoing thunder, tumbling bougainvillea, shadowy rooms and strong winds helped to shape a spirit inclined to solitude and wanderings, given to all manner of dreams.

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

San Miguel, Mexico www.bluemesablog.com

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