Tongue in Cheek

Spring Rose

The vernal equinox, the first day of spring, when the day and the night are of equal length. Light and dark. Perfect balance. Rose and thorn.

Finding balance: Standing on tiptoe like a flame on a candle. Burning grace.

photos: Roses from my garden last year. I read that on the eve of spring it was a tradition to leave a bouquet of flowers on the doorstep of those you loved or admired.

Pink roses are on your virtual doorstep.

Thank you for reading my blog, for your comments and generous words of encouragement. 

A Miracle

                     

My friend's little boy Raphael was diagnosed with cancer when he was not quite two years of age. The doctors said he would not see a second Christmas. Every treatment and avenue for a cure was tried. Their family and friends prayed, and sent thoughts of healing and courage.

Raphael beat the odds that were stacked up high against him. After years of struggle his tumor disappeared. The Doctors said if ever there was a miracle this was one of them.

Raphael's story rose like a glorious sunrise. Those who knew the saga of his ordeal believed their prayers had something to do with his healing. Little Raphael is now five years old.

Yesterday my friends sent me an email that said, "Guess what!? Raphael has been offered a place in the annual pilgrimage to Lourdes on May 1."

I love stories like this....that show the mystery of life, and encourage me to believe against all the odds.

Do you have a miracle to share?

Photo: My nephew at his baptism being bathed in love by his cousins.

Antiques and Vintage Links

Take a virtual tour of everything antiques by clicking on any photo. Linked are different sites about: How to buy antiques, where to meet other bloggers who deal or create with antiques, and shops online.

Please share one of your antiquing hunting secrets. What do you look for? Where to find antiques? Or how to tell if it is real.

Antiques from A to Z. The variety is endless. Discover more about textiles, garden furniture, linens, toys, silverware, dishes, paintings....

What period, or style do you prefer?

Feel free to add your own link (in the comment section,) to anything regarding antiques.

What is your favorite thing to collect?

Photos: of the French flea market.

 

French Brocante

                  

I swear to God one of the most incredible antique fairs that I have been to in a very long time, is happening in my village today. It seems that an entire chateau has fallen out of the sky and landed here! (I wonder if a money tree is growing in my garden too? Miracles do happen.)

I'll write more later on...but right now this angel is calling me and I must follow!

photo: An eighteen century French oil painting. Click on it to enlarge.

p.s.

Dear God,

I'm sorry I swore.

But it is a damn good antique fair...and anyway you know me, and like me, and what is a little swearing among friends right?

Open Door

                  

When a door closes another door opens. What if one door closes and another opens only half-way. Do you believe that the door is shut, hoping you will open it anyway and enter? Life teases us and asks us to trust.

photo: Spice shop door nearby where I live.

Inspiration

                         

-The words of little children while they play.

-Twilight as it sets the stage for the moon to grow large.

-The color pink in the evening sky!

-Tumbled stone walls that remain strong.

-Swans that know their beauty even when they are told they are an ugly duckling.

-The falling leaves of Autumn, and the gray skies over worked-up rice fields.

-Moments of uprooting, challenging perspectives, twisty paths, or when things are against the odds, I find inspiration.

-Empty walls.

-Family and friends belief in me.

What inspires you?

Photo: An earring without a partner, haphazardly placed on a torn page from a French book of fairy tales. Only then did I realize the words fleurs (flowers.) The unconscious is a powerful tool.

French Husband Learns to Fly

I am terrified of flying. One would have thought that would've been a reason for me not to have married and moved to France from California. Thirteen hours on a plane is a long time to sit and be scared, even if I do lose weight from fear.

Love is crazy.

French husband is learning how to fly and somehow it didn't bother me (considering his love for extreme sports, I guess flying sounded mild by comparison.) until he said..."Corey, you'll go up with me when I get my license won't you?"

"Uh, sure after you have flown a hundred hours." I said.

"Statically, most accidents happen between 100 and 150 hours." French husband added.

"Gee, thanks for sharing! Does that help me want to fly? I'll fly with you after 151 hours." I said, knowing that is a distance future.

"Are you scared to fly with me, or does simply flying scare you?" He questioned.

"Both." I said.

He gave me that "oh Corey, I'm here, trust me" kinda look.

I in return gave him that "you-don't-fool-me" smirk.

"Corey, we can fly to Paris, or Corsica, or Barcelona..." He was on a roll, or should I say flying high? He named places trying to seduce me into flying with him, "Seville, or Rome, possibly California!"

Folding my arms across my chest I blurted, "Honey, you get lost going to your Mother's house! How are you ever going to find your way to a new country?"

"Well, if I'm lost, I'll fly low and read the freeway signs." He said confidently.

"Then we better start off at the crack of dawn, so we can have hours of good daylight to read those obscure freeway signs." I replied to his not so reassuring response.

I know I am terrible aren't I? But I am scared of flying! Which is unreasonable considering how safe it is compared to driving a car. Though the bottom line is....French husband is like most men: He gets lost driving a car and never pulls over for directions. I can see it now...We'll be flying a few hundred yards above the freeway, and I'll yell louder than the sound of the engine, "The turn-off was right there! Turn right!" French husband won't believe me, or worse do a swooshing loopity-loop to the left, and I'll vomit...

Love is crazy really! But thinking about flying with French husband is nuts!

photos: French husband trying to seduce me.

On Top of the Table

Setting the table, placing the silverware alongside the plate, I imagine those who will sit around the table and dine. Hoping their stories will easily unfold like napkins, and that their laughter will be tossed about like a green salad. I smile anticipating secrets that will be swallowed whole and digested later. (A dinner is a mixture of hot and cold, tender morsels, bites to chew, and just the right amount of sweet and spicy.)

Photos: My favorite things to collect: mix and match table-top French antiques. Who came to dinner? Just family...Yann, Chelsea, Sacha and I. Everyday is a reason to bring out the best.

Our dinner table last night. The pregnant space waiting to nourish.

Baby Shoes

My Mother found these baby shoes at a second hand-shop. She tossed them to me saying, "For your blog." I smiled thinking she gets it, and found her gesture to be a perfect compliment, especially since she shares a shop with my sister-in-law.

The tag said, "One pair, one spare and one no-match." I'm easily amused.

The "no-match" is my favorite. Though if I lived in that period of time I doubt I would have ever managed to button-up the buttons. My babies would have spent their days barefoot.

Get a load of my *niece Kate's feet. Trust me there is no way that her little feet would fit into those vintage baby shoes. But then again who needs cute shoes when you have cutie-legs like this!

*The link takes you to Kate's first visit to my blog. Kate was several months old then. In this photo she is 16 months old.

Worn and true holes in the baby shoe. I guess you could say: "Those little piggies really did go to the market."

The pair, has a perfect spare.

Happy feet. (The youngest in our family. My eight-week old nephew on his Baptism day last week.)

Photos: Vintage baby shoes and baby feet....a good way to start life, "One pair, one spare and one no-match." Happiness is kissing the ground we walk on and tickling the feet of children. (click on images to enlarge.)

My Mother's Garden

My Mother's garden, welcomes us to spring forth.

With teasing yellow for daisies; my Mom adds pink, orange, and violet blue objects like color charts for the flowers to take cue. What color are you?

Take root! Bloom where you are planted. Any container will do. Zinc buckets with hen and chickens line the pathways.

A black crow stands out amongst the first kisses of Spring. Variety is the seed to a colorful bouquet.

Everything is a jewel in her garden. A rusty milk can with crowning glory.

My Mom, the flower that blooms endlessly year round.