Even though I've been here for a month, I still feel like there's so much more to explore, and I still find wonder at every turn. Just a few days ago, I went down a set of stairs in Sancerre that hadn't been down yet and, after nearly stepping on a snail that was in the path (oh you, France!), and going down a quiet road, it led me to the ruins of Saint-Romble, my new favorite spot. It's a little perch on the side of the hill where three separate churches have been built and destroyed (seems like after the third one they realized that the spot was bad luck for churches.) As I was walking by, at first I thought it was just a big, oddly-shaped tree with an inexplicably large trunk.
But then I saw the sign posted:
I scrambled up to the site, and there's a few mounds of crumbling old church-bits overgrown with dandelions, stinging nettles, and baby maple trees, but also there's one structure still standing. The trees have grown all over it (as trees are wont to do.)
Though there is a bit of wall visible where the tree hasn't gotten around to covering yet:
My very favorite part was going to the inside corner of the structure, and then looking up. It's hard to describe how magical it feels (but I will try)—there's a tangly mix of roots and branches and moss and deep green leaves that stretch up and up. It feels cool and quiet and peaceful in there in there, like stepping directly into the middle of a dark and dense forest. I tried to capture it with my camera, but I could not. I've returned every day and will miss it when I leave.