I wasn't in Paris since Sunday, unfortunately not for holiday purposes.Anyway, it was sunny, and spring made the fields turn yellow...
"Daffodils" (1804)
I wander'd lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
(Thanks Mrs cavewoman, you are so sweet: miss you lots!)
Most of the time, we did what we call in French "bivouac" or "camping sauvage", which means, we would put our tent in a nice spot... 
Méditation poétique.
