As I did my errands this morning, I passed a newspaper kiosk and heard a man approach the vendor and say, “Toujours en greve?” The vendor nodded. I wondered, until I passed another kiosk and heard exactly the same exchange, in that familiar French tone of frustration and resignation: “Toujours en greve?” Still on strike? Then I noticed – there were no French newspapers for sale. At a time when newspapers are losing gazillions and struggling to stay alive, the French newspapers are on strike. I asked the vendor why. He shrugged the famous Gallic shrug. “Les syndicats,” he said. The unions. That’s all.
Though the weather continues sublime, I know it’s fall, because the garden is shutting down and suddenly there’s so much