Through Gritted Teeth

In February this year we had some strange weather in the Upper Rhine Valley. Strong winds blew sands from the Sahara, from as far away Morocco, Algeria, Mauretania and Mali all the way to Switzerland, France and the south of Germany. It happens every few years.

As interesting as the effect was, I prefer not to breathe in my sand.

How about drinking it?

A few days ago somebody posted a photo of sand in a bottle and I commented on it and now I cant find anymore. Anyway – this is the bottle that I have, a lot less artistic. I filled this bottle myself 50 years ago with sands from Le sentier des ocres de Roussilon in the Luberon. It’s an old ocher pigment quarry in the South of France which was then open to anybody and one could just collect sand. Nowadays, there are fixed walkways and taking sands is strictly forbidden (and quite rightly so).

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Sand or Dirt

6 thoughts on “Through Gritted Teeth

    1. I have to credit my mum to keeping it. Having moved fairly often I am not very good at preserving stuff. For one thing, I can’t find all the photos I took of all the sand dunes in Saudi … and believe me I looked for them last weekend!!

      Liked by 1 person

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