French la Vie

Autumn Home

Preparing for Autumn: Gathering the abundant harvest at the end of summer, canning the last of the vegetables and making pomegranate jam, watching the first leaves dance down to the ground, grabbing from the upper shelf a sweater to wear, taking out the rake, stacking the cord of wood in the shed, and smelling the Autumn aroma in the air.

More than any other season Autumn reminds me of Willows. The decor of my mother's and my cousin Judy's home are autumn homes: Soothing, homey, comfortable, inviting, always something baking in the oven, clothes drying on the line. Homes that were soaking up the pleasures of simple living are as easy as running through a pile of leaves.

Judy and my mom rearrange their homes with the seasons. Decorating them to celebrate the moments at hand. I miss that tradition, I miss home most during Autumn. Is that pumpkin pie I smell hot from the oven? My memory tells me it is.

Autumn is my mother's birthday, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, which is usually when I go home to visit.

Growing up in the country with my four brothers meant we played outside most of the time. We rode bikes, helped our parents clean the yard, played around the barn. It also meant I was raised to be a farmer's wife. My mom taught me housekeeping: The art of setting a table, stacking a linen closet neatly, grocery shopping, cooking, baking, ironing, and changing a diaper- Those things that she knew by heart. The things that created a happy home in her world. My parents assumed I would marry a boy from Willows. It was a predictable bet.

Well, those lessons helped even if the predictable bet was never made, and a distant land became my home.

What season do you favor?

Summer is hot- but oh, the seasonal fruits and vegetables!

Winter is cold- with its haunting countryside.

Spring and Autumn play the twist of bringing one season in while sorting the other season out the door.

Some of these are photos from my cousin Judy's home. Judy has a love affair with books. She uses them in her decor, and the bindings, more than the subject, depict the season's color theme.

The Magic of Friendship

The Tiny dancer is staying with us for a few days as Chelsea went to Paris with Gabriel. They have some business to do, which includes visiting friends.

There’s a magic to childhood friendships, isn’t there? Meeting someone in childhood, before we know who we are or who we’ll become, brings a connection that’s hard to describe. There’s no judgment, no expectations—just days spent sharing the swings, silly laughter about nonsense, and dreams spun from nothing more than the clouds above. And while life takes us in different directions, that friend remains, connected as as naturally as breathing. You may live miles apart or go months without talking, yet when you reconnect, it’s as though no time has passed. In a way, they are the keepers of our younger selves, the witnesses to our becoming, and the reminder of who we’ve always been.

They also visited the grocer clerk by their old apartment who knew Gabriel before he was born and gave him sweet attention and conversation. They had plenty of catching up to do. Gabriel left with a massive gift of chocolate.

Do you have a childhood friend?

Comments (6)

A Single Thread

To those whom I have never known, whose creative handiwork has touched all our lives without us ever knowing your names. How many gorgeous pieces of antique textiles I have seen, felt, admired, held- without ever being able to say thank you.
To the creators who remind us of the beauty that can emerge from something as simple as a single strand.

I am endlessly captivated by the magic of textiles: woven rugs with patterns passed down through generations, delicate ribbon work carefully arranged, and the softness of quilts, each stitch holding its own little story. Each piece, whether finely threaded lace or a bold colored rug, holds a glimpse into the soul of the artist and the culture that gave it shape.

In our own lives, we are always stitching together something of our own whether in art or through the choices we make. With each thought, each hope, each new beginning, we are creating a personal textile—one that reflects the fabric of who we are. Sometimes the colors clash, sometimes they align in perfect harmony, but in every case, they are uniquely ours. Every threaded dream, beaded detail, carefree strand- every patchwork piece of mended moments make us who we are.

Look at the intricate detailed leaves!, and the singular burst of color.

A pair of delicately beaded shoes from the 1700s.

Dishes done, the last light lingers, the house grows silent, the needle and thread come out of the sewing basket, and a candle glows.

To the creators who remind us of the beauty that can emerge from something as simple as a single strand—thank you

Comments (6)

Tiny Dancer

Olivia loves to dance and listen to music. Today, wanting Olivia’s reaction I came downstairs wearing my favorite twirling dancing skirt. Olivia was instantly awestruck, and wanted to wear it to twirl too. Of course, my skirt was too big so we did what we could by adding a belt and rolling it up. She was pleased, but the skirt was cumbersome, so I had a better idea.

Recently, I bought a bunch of old ties at the fleamarket, plus some old ribbons and silk flowers. I had planned to use them for something else but that changed when the idea came to mind to create a twirling skirt. Since we were dancing, I didn’t want to stop to sew. The mood was glorious, and sewing would have set our dancing feet still.

I started tieing the ties and ribbons to her waist while Olivia dictated where to pin the flowers.

We added a scarf that my friend Ching gave me, and in a flash a mix-match, wacky, twirling skirt was created. Olivia danced the rainy day away. We even gave a little performance after dinner.

Magic strikes with little effort. If I had bought colorful ribbons, calculated the details, spent an afternoon creating a charming design she would not have been happier. Sometimes our perfect ideas or best left aside and just go with the flow instead. Hence, old ties and what was on hand made the day.

Comments (15)

Autumn on the Path by Our Home

while I walk my thoughts…

Leaving for California, Well I thought I Was

Marseille to Willows

11-hour flight

This time, I am flying alone.

Though Sacha might come and visit too.

Cookies guaranteed.

It has nearly been a year since my last trip “home.”

Gabriel said before I left, “Have a good, good, good… good, goooooood, (he was searching for the word in English to come after good and while doing so kept saying good.) plane ride.” And then he added, “I love you.”

Melt.

Chelsea waved goodbye as they left our home but then had to drive around the block because Olivia wanted to say goodbye again to me.

Double melt.

Love is such a gift.

---

Yann drove me to the airport, and luckily, I caught him before he headed home because the ticket I thought I had bought was not the ticket I bought but had kept on hold! So, my plans to leave today were dashed. I rebooked my ticket for another day.

Later today, I went to see the Pickles. They stared at me in disbelief, "Did you go to America?"

I explained my error and how important it is to double-check details. Because I hadn't, I missed my flight. We talked a bit more about it. And I then carried on with our day.

All is good. It's just a change of plan. At least my suitcase is packed, my passport and ticket are ready to go, and I double-checked for next time.

Will You Join Me?

The last a French la Vie retreat for the year ended two days. Each group was fantastic and I had a lot of fun meetings so many new people. It is always a pleasure to meet people who share the same passion, even if I feel like bumping them away when they find things I want. Teasing aside there is enough for everyone even for the little piggies like me.

Next year the group that I will have are already full I have two places left if you’re interested let me know.

Classic Provencal pottery. Yellow and green are the most common colors and they were for farmhouse kitchens. Farmhouses are called “Mas” in French.

White and blue pottery were often for the upper classes and usually not on farms.

finding a dealer who deals with Smalls is very unusual because it takes so much time to find them for a price that you can resell.Usually smalls are found in boxes and in other boxes and hidden in little nooks and crannies. So when you find a dealer who just deals with Smalls one needs time, looking at tiny little details.

Antique Fabric is harder and harder to find especially if you are searching for large pieces. The large pieces of fabric that are found are usually curtains or pieces taken from old quilts.

The last couple of groups have been textile artists, thankfully they needed only small pieces and I knew were to take them.

Happy French la Vie people xx

The dainty dangerous little teacups. I wonder how they survived throughout these many many years? Probably because they were never used so many things you find at the antique market we’re safeguarded and never used. I am of the mindset that if you have it use it! Otherwise it’s just going to be set up a flea market after flea market until we move to Mars.

Coat racks, dish towel racks, towel racks, racks, and racks Chelsea‘s always looking for these. I think her house is just going to be full of racks.

A box full of tiny little boxes is a big hit. Since more than some of the people who come to my retreats love to make things, these little boxes are scooped up into their creative hands.

A warehouse full of boxes you never know what you will find if you take the chance to dig a little. My friend found a whole box of prayer books from the 1800s, another found carved wood from the 1700s and I found used paint brushes that sounds real good, doesn’t it?

Glass domes

Tons of silver

A half naked man.

The antique and flea markets are full of surprises and wonders and beauties and delight and history and culture and all good things.

Olivia ‘s Third Birthday

and just like that we grow

in a blink of an eye

Happy Birthday Wee One

Standing Tall Yet So Small

Route de Crete, The Cap Canaille the highest maritime cliff in France. 399 meters 1293 feet. It is one of the highest in Europe.

Do you see us standing there?

Do You Know the Way?

How can we hold a light ?

To lead us

Out of this darkness ?

New Adventures!

Do you see Gabriel rock climbing?!

While Chelsea and I were guiding our brocante friends on the French la Vie through the Brocante, he was doing this!

Gabriel you magical boy creative and a daredevil

what a glorious mix.

French la Vie: The Brocante Bug Bi

Comments (0)

Sacha’s Latest Photo

My son, Sacha‘s latest photo on his Instagram account caused me to gasp. Just like that, he appeared to me as a grown man for some reason it never occurred to me until just now-

He is a grown man.

Maybe mothers always think of their sons as their little boy…

Looking at this photo, something shifted in me - an awareness, a ting of sadness - that we are all getting older.

Do you know what I mean?

Comments (12)

The Last Group of the Year

we are off to a wonderful start x

Olivia’s Dream Comes True

Nearly three

a wee one

stepping out of babyhood

dreams of long hair

two ponytails

plus

She longs to dance in a twirly skirt.

I found a twirly skirt and a wig-

That Olivia wanted to wear morning, noon, and night.

Happy as could be, and whispered to me,

”I adore and love you.”

The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

🌈

Simple joy.

Gabriel’s Jack O'Lantern

Look at that happy, proud little Boy Boy!

His first Jack O'Lantern!

We talked about Halloween since he thought it meant scary. I told him it meant Jack-o-lanterns, costumes, and going door to door saying "trick or treat" for candy, candy, and candy! Gabriel's response was, "What is trick or treat?" I briefly explained, and he said, "Do people say Trick? And if so, what trick do you do?" I said, "They smash their Jack O'Lantern!" His eyes widened. So I added, "But, I never heard anyone say trick."

Gabriel drew the face on the pumpkin, and Yann carved it—a first for Gabriel.

An American pumpkin! The French pumpkins are Cinderella pumpkins and are more challenging to carve.

Oouey Gooey

String and seeds

Gabriel assumed removing the pumpkin's interior would be creamy, so he brought a ladle.

We planted the seeds and gooey parts for fun since their yard was ripped up during the construction/renovation. Mud is a better word to describe their yard. We got distracted and started collecting Boxelder bugs since they were underfoot as we ventured to the far end of the yard. Gabriel told me we could pick them up because they don't bite or sting, and I didn't want to doubt him or act afraid, so I did it. We collected a bunch and then let them go.

The best treat this Halloween is these two Pickles xx

Soon to Be … My New Blog

Very soon, my blog will look different because I’m changing the platform that I work on. Though it will look different, it will still be the same, except with more photos.

If you were following me by using the Typepad subscription, you would need to change that by going to your browser and bookmarking my blog or by subscribing freely to the subscription button that will be added.

I cannot wait for my block to be transferred. It will be much easier for me to post and more user-friendly for you.

This all happened thanks to the extremely generous and talented woman named Kari, whom I met in one of my groups. There is absolutely no way this would have happened without her, and I feel indebted to her for her Extraordinary guidance.

Fingers crossed that it will transfer smoothly.

On the Eve of my Mother's 89th Birthday

I could list 89 stories about my mom; I could list 89 things that she has taught me and probably 89 of her wonders, too. Instead, I will write something here that I want my grandchildren to know about my mom:

My mother wakes up at 7 a.m. daily, gets ready, makes her bed, and never lingers or stays in her PJs until ten. She is disciplined.

My mother bakes nearly every morning; cookies, pies, and cream puffs are a few of her trademarks. She makes her pie crust and has homemade cookies on hand for anyone who comes to visit.

She is family-oriented and an exceptional matriarch.

She has a quick wit, remembers details, and is a creative force. She can turn nothing into something and create beauty with a snap of her fingers. She wraps gifts so beautifully that you do not want to open them, and people bring their gifts to her for her to wrap. Her garden is her haven; she only wears dresses and sits outside in the sun every day without sunglasses or sunscreen. She usually takes a ten-minute nap while sitting in a chair outside. She loves to play games, make up games, and cheat at cards, but she won't admit it. She loves children, and children love her. My mom eats candy every day. She has a sense of humor and never misses a beat. She loves to dance and set up for parties. She gets things done; she doesn't procrastinate. A little bouquet she picks from her garden always sits on her windowsill. She has a cup of black coffee, half a banana, and candy in the morning.

My mom's rosary was made by her Godchild Alain out of olive pits, and she prays it once a day, but honestly, I think she says it more than once; it is her mediation. She goes to church a couple of times a week, yet she isn't a holy roller or ultra-conservative and doesn't recite the bible. She lives her faith lovingly. My mom is a character. She makes people laugh and keeps them busy with honey-dos. My mom taught us to dance. She loved to jitterbug to "In the Mood." Her home was decorated for each of the holidays and or seasons. Halloween, she had a drop-by dinner for whoever wanted to come. She never used paper plates or cups when I was growing up and rarely does now. She remembers where things are and what has to be done; she is a motorized bunny.

My mom showed us how to be a good person by her example.

Soon, I will go home after my next French la Vie group, and she will undoubtedly have a list of things for me to do. We will play cards, eat grilled cheese sandwiches, and watch Gunsmoke on TV. My mom has company throughout the week, mostly family; she is loved and loves right back.

xxx

Gabriel and Olivia, you were loved before you were born.

Happy Birthday, Eve, Mom.

Comments (21)

Important News About my Blog and Other Thoughts

Who Knew Barbie Would Strike a Vibe? I thought I was alone with a mother who didn't dig Barbie. The older I became, the more I realized my mother was ahead of the curve in many of her "rules" or "ideas."

For example:

We never had soda at home or "sugared" cereal.

When I went out on a date, my mother gave me money to pay my share and gas money.

I could only go to dances if I promised to dance with anyone who asked me and not to wait but ask boys to dance with me or dance alone.

On a completely separate note, I have a big reveal. I am changing platforms to write my blog. After frustration after frustration these last several months with Typepad, which has been my platform for nearly twenty years, my blog is moving to WordPress. Kari gave me the most extraordinary gift, diligently, step by step, creating this upcoming transition.

I will explain more in the days to come. So stay tuned, and thank you for following me xx

The history of covered buttons The first cloth-covered button appeared in Dorset, England, in 1622. Farmers were the first to use these buttons. Some popular fabric-covered buttons were made from linen and wool yarn by 1700. Fabric-covered buttons were being produced mechanically by 1830.

Playing Barbie with a Skipper

My cousin Alma had a Barbie, which I adored as a child. Additionally, my Uncle Jules (my favorite boy’s name, French Husband, did not like it, but that is another story) transformed an old radio cabinet into a Barbie house, even though it never had a radio. I was thrilled whenever I got to go to Alma's house to play Barbies. My Aunt Frannie made numerous Barbie clothes for her, and we would spend hours dressing up her beautiful Barbie. I can still see myself sitting on the floor by the radio cabinet / Barbie house, glued with an admiring heart and imagination to the wonders it evoked.

When Christmas came, I asked for a Barbie, but my mom bought me Skipper instead. My mother didn't believe it was appropriate for a little girl to own a Barbie with pronounced breasts, so I received a flat-chested Skipper.

Skipper wasn't the same as Barbie, and it only intensified my insecurity about not being as beautiful as my cousins, who were my best friends. However, that's a different story altogether.

Anyway, Alma had another Barbie whose breasts were mutilated by their dog (maybe that's why I'm afraid of dogs?). She gave me the deformed Barbie, which had a golden appearance; to me, she was everything.

Did you have a Barbie.

Photo examples were found online.

Comments (16)

Noblemen’s Clothing

"The luxurious outfit that men from the 18th-century nobility would wear, the habit à la française, is composed of a coat, waistcoat, and breeches. It also included a pair of silk stockings, a jabot, a linen or cotton shirt with decorative cuffs, and a cravat (a neckcloth)."

Challenging traditional gender norms, the 18th century saw a unique trend in which the beauty of embroidery was effectively showcased in men's clothes rather than women's dresses. This can be seen in the formal wear of Académie Française members, where the coat and waistcoat of the habit à la française are fully embroidered with golden and silver threads, multi-colored threads, sequins, and artificial gems.

The first buttons, serving as ornamental embellishments to a person's attire, played a significant role in signifying wealth or status. The concept of buttons as we know them today began to emerge around the 13th century. Initially, they were crafted from precious materials like ivory and metals, symbolizing wealth and prestige.

The detailing of an 18th-century man's silk embroidered waistcoat.

These examples belong to a friend.

There is such a rich history in textiles and the changing clothing style.

Silk and lace, gold and silver wire thread, ten or more embroidery buttons, intense floral detailing...

Most 18th-century clothing is amazingly crafted with talented artistry, nimble fingers, and a creative mind of unsung artists.

Help us help a family in Gaza

We Must

Comments (6)

One Year

every little bit makes a massive difference

Just a Thought

When we are tagged by love, anything can be transformed.

Have you ever built a wall around you with the mortar of your negative feelings only to have it fall apart because a loving hand gave you a chance?

First Time Ever

I went to a flea market today, which isn’t unusual for me …

But the prices were absolutely ridiculous.

I wouldn’t pay those prices at a brocante, let alone at a flea market where one expects to pay less.

Nevertheless, there were some lovely pieces, but the prices were inexcusable.

The first time, I walked away empty-handed.

Going to the Market

Open Hands, Open Heart, Open Mind

Who is Jesus, Gabriel Asked

Gabriel was looking at a book of artwork (Le Mauritshuis) at our home. A few pages later, he came upon an image of Christ crucified. He stared at it, then slowly traced it with his finger. He looked up at me and asked, "Who is this? Is he dead?" I said, "It is a painting of Jesus. Yes, he was dead. Do you know who that is?" he shook his head no. I sighed, "Well, Gabriel, to hear about Jesus this way is not the easiest place to learn about him, but here it goes: Jesus was a man who was killed because certain people did not like what he talked about and who he said he was."

"What did he talk about?"

"Oh, things about being a nice person, about being kind to one another, about sharing what you have..." Before I could finish, Gabriel stopped me,

"He was killed because he was nice?”

"Yes, crazy, isn't it? And because he said he was God too."

"Well, if he was God, why did he die?"

"That's a good question. Because he wanted to show us that love doesn't die, he was resurrected and came back alive."

"Vavie, when you are dead, you are dead. You don't open your eyes, and you do not live anymore."

"Yeah, you're right about that. But, Jesus was different."

"I don't get it."

"It is hard to grasp."

Gabriel looked at the picture of the crucified Christ. And since he had to go to school, I told him we could talk about it more another day. He closed the book with a mind full of questions.

I tried to keep it simple and not go into a full-blown dialogue about symbolism, history, and religion. I was talking to a five-year-old and didn't want to make him cry before school started.

How would you have answered Gabriel’s questions?

Videos from my Instagram

Brocanting in Autumn is the best; it is not hot and certainly not cold, and there are fewer tourists to compete with.

Lucky finds at the brocante. Sharing some Instagram videos.

Cinderella pumpkins grow right outside our town.

Thank You for Your Gift

Blogging is a gift of friendship,

there within is a pearl, the one I trusted was inside the shell,

round, smooth, and perfect -- beautiful.

The blogging community is as such; I trust it is there like a pearl within an oyster shell. Each time I meet someone from this blogging community, I am deeply touched by how genuine and whole these pearls of friendship are!

Thank you to each of you I have met since starting this blog. Today, I met Marty and her husband, John. The only thing missing was (is) more time with you.

Thank you for the gift of your friendship.

via Google. Photographer unknown

Cap Canaille, Cassis

On Cap Canaille Chelsea sits admiring

the spectacular view over the bays of Cassis.

The Cap 1309 feet jets up over the Mediterranean.

Where There is a Will There is a Way

Gabriel had a goal. To climb the “cliff”, that was made to bring water and electricity to the house they are renovating, and to create a terrace. He searched for ways to climb up but the bites of left over plastic, cords, wire … from the renovation were either to flimsy, or too short. I told him I would bring a rope.
Yann had a rope from his caving day.
Gabriel’s determination reminded me of when Chelsea was the same age. She went to a circus and when she came home proclaimed she wanted to be the lady who walked on her hands! Chelsea put her mind to figure it out, and Within a week or so, she mastered it. Impressive, though her circus dreams did not last.

Gabriel had the same tenacity, the same willpower, and the same mindset to go after his desire…. after a few attempts, encouragement, coaching, a bit of pain, a few scraps, and some tears, he did it and ran back to do it again.

An old wine bottle drying rack holds old jam jars.

Years ago, William Sonoma collected some of these typical French jam jars and had them reproduced into drinking glasses.

When I first came to France and saw these at the brocante, I bought them for drinking glasses.

French Husband almost fainted, "We drink from these? Mais non, Corey."

Poor guy, the shock of an American wife at the brocante bringing old things home and re-creating how they were used...

"A quilt for a tablecloth, mais non Corey."

"A washing paddle used as a cheese board, mais non Corey."

"A spritzer bottle to store olive oil, mais non-Corey."

"A sugar shaker for talc, mais non-Corey."

"A tablecloth and napkins to cover a fainting couch, mais non, Corey."

Now, he doesn't blink an eye and is genuinely intrigued.

Please follow this link to help Mohammed and Malak’s Family

Win Win

This is Mohammed, Malak, and Karim. With your help, we raised enough money to help them leave Gaza days before the Rafah border was permanently closed. Unfortunately, their families remain in Gaza. Their homes and livelihoods have been destroyed. Malak wrote, “They are not safe and live in a tent without a bathroom. Unfortunately, they have to relieve themselves on the sand. Their situation is fragile; they have no food and struggle to get water. Also, my sister is sick, and they can’t afford her treatment because they need money...”

Again, I am raising money to help their families by raffling a one week free stay in our apartment in Paris. For each 50 dollar donation equals one chance to win. One hundred dollars equals three chances to win. When we have reached 5000 Euros, we will draw a winner. That means the chances of you winning a one-week stay in our apartment in Paris is 1 in a hundred, or less if more give 100 dollar donation. I will keep doing this to raise money for families in Gaza. Please help my friend’s family in Gaza.

Comments (0)

‘All religions are a path to God’

"SINGAPORE – In a line that may once again stir reaction in more traditional Catholic quarters, Pope Francis on Friday wrapped up a three-day visit to Singapore, a country with large pockets of at least five different faiths, that “all religions are a path to God.”

“They are like different languages to arrive at God, but God is God for all,” the pope said, who had set aside his prepared text and spoke largely off the cuff. “Since God is God for all, then we are all children of God.”

“If you start to fight, ‘my religion is more important than yours, mine is true, and yours isn’t,’ where will that lead us?” he asked aloud. “There’s only one God, and each of us has a language to arrive at God. Some are Sheik, Muslim, Hindu, Christian, and they are different paths [to God].”

“For interreligious dialogue among young people, it takes courage because youth is the time of courage in our lives,” he said. “You can also have this courage and use it for things that don’t help you, or you can use it to move forward and engage in dialogue. One thing that helps a lot is to respect dialogue.”

“I want to tell you something historical: every dictatorship in history, the first thing they do is take away dialogue,” said Pope Francis.

“Young people must have the courage to build, go forward, and leave their comfort zones,” he said. “A young person who chooses to be comfortable in their lives gets fat. But the stomach doesn’t get fat; the mind does!”

“This is why I say take risks, go out!” he told the youth. “Don’t be afraid. Fear is a dictatorial attitude, and it paralyzes you.”

What Would You Do if a Rat Fell on You?

Up in an attic, secrets are told tucked away in trunks, stuffed in baskets, buried under stuff shoved in corners, dusty books with letters between the pages, and things left aside without thought by someone who never returned. I enjoy going through things in attics, not so much the dust nor the little creatures that pop up without saying hi. There is usually a discovery or two, and stories that follow are worth the mice and spiders who claim the space as their home. Have you ever had a mouse run up your leg? I had a rat fall on me; yeah, I didn't even scream as I was way too into a box of old papers to care.

What would you do if a rat fell on you?

That is when I realized I have a serious addiction, and the Brocante Bug became a real thing.

The First Step

Taking the first step in her satin slippers,

which had a fresh flower pinned on top; she walked on water.

Who said it couldn't be done? `Following her desire led her faithfully onward.

The French la Vie Group

These four friends, who eat, breathe, and dream of textiles, are creators, collectors, storytellers, and teachers. Two are from Australia, one from Hawaii, and one from California. They came to France to take courses in stitchery -as if they needed to learn more! They told me there is always the opportunity to discover and learn.

Their knowledge is growing, their talent is abundant, and their textile collection grew abundantly while diving into the world for the brocante. Antique cloth, lace, buttons, trims, and everything related to sewing and stitchery were at hand to enrich their stash and create.

Thank you, Barbara, Gloria, Jandee, and Jo, for sharing your wisdom, inspiration, and the many moments of laughter with things unrelated to textiles: Curry, Boys, Lasagna, always cats, the hand grab, and the that's ugly. (I am writing this so I do not forget.)

---

What to Win A Week Stay in Our Apartment in Paris?

Main fundraiser photo
(
We’re raising funds to help Mohammed's family cope with their trauma, and we need your support! You can enter a raffle to win a one-week stay in our beautiful Paris apartment by donating.

Here’s how it works:

Donate $50 to receive 1 raffle ticket.
Donate $100 to receive 3 raffle tickets.
Once we reach our goal of $5,000, we’ll hold a draw to select the lucky winner. Your generosity will make a significant difference in their lives.

Let’s come together and make this possible. Thank you for your kindness and support! ❤️

Comments (0)

Have You Ever Had Kumquat Pie?

Photo Source

My friend made a kumquat pie. I had never had a kumquat, let alone seen one. Kumquat sounds like a bad word and does not stir the taste buds or imagination to delight. Though I said, " I have never had a kumquat." My friend sliced me a piece.

What a burst of deliciousness! How I have been missing out all these years. Once I make it, from the jar of homemade jam I will add it her.

My Mother in Law

My Mother in Law who we call, « Bonne Maman » turned 95 years old. A super trooper and always up to try something new.

Happy Birthday and many more xxx

French Husband Digs the Brocante

He never liked the brocante,

When we first married, he told me flea markets didn't exist in France.

When I saw one, I screamed, "Look!! It's a flea market!" He replied, "That's junk."

They didn't exist because he thought that it was junk.

Though he tolerated it because of me.

Love does crazy things to us.

Then, little by little—there are a million stories to tell, but I will cut to the chase and say little by little, he started getting into it.

Eventually, years later he is starting to spot things I miss.

Nearly a yard long.

Framed in a gilded ruin decay, which says "MUST HAVE."

1800s classic French engraving.

It reminds me of French Husband and me on our first trip together to

Angel's camp.

But that is another story.

That starts with camping, swimming nude, being stuck on a ledge after hiking the wrong way, trusting the balancing act, and understanding that planning is sometimes good.

If only our balancing act had been so tender as this.

But the engraving softens the memory of that experience. Well, sort of.

The best part is that French Husband found it for me.

And managed to get us off that ledge in one piece.

Wonders never cease.

Poem of the One World

"This morning

the beautiful white heron

was floating along above the water

and then into the sky of this

the one world

we all belong to

where everything

sooner or later

is a part of everything else

which thought made me feel

for a little while

quite beautiful myself."

Mary Oliver

Help Us Help Mohammed and his Family

I struggle with what many people say: It doesn't matter what I say or do—it’s all out of our control. That the talking heads control the world. But I refuse to believe that.

Recently, many of you helped us help a young family, Mohammed, his wife Malak, and their baby Karim leave Gaza. While they made it out, their loved ones remain trapped. Like many Palestinians who have left, they carry Gaza with them— in their minds, hearts, and souls.

They feel the weight of guilt, sadness, and despair. They can’t go back but can’t fully move forward, either. The journey to freedom is haunted by the trauma they carry—the memories of what they’ve seen and endured. Some of their family have been killed; their homes have been bombed and destroyed. Malak has a sister with special needs, and their families live in tents.
📣 Support a Family in Need & Win a Parisian Getaway! 🇫🇷

Main fundraiser photo
(
We’re raising funds to help a family cope with their trauma, and we need your support! By donating, you can enter a raffle to win a one-week stay in our beautiful Paris apartment. Here’s how it works:

Donate $50 to receive 1 raffle ticket.
Donate $100 to receive 3 raffle tickets.
Once we reach our goal of $5,000, we’ll hold a draw to select the lucky winner. Your generosity will make a significant difference in their lives.

Let’s come together and make this possible. Thank you for your kindness and support! ❤️

Two more spots left for the French la Vie 2025

Two Places Left for 2025 Diving in Dumpsters is on the List

One is the first week in May, and the other is the first week in June.

Please make sure to tap for details.

Hey, Ladies, There are plenty of brocantes, but only two places are left to join me, not three. Are you feeling the rush?

The brocante dealer says, “Come and join us.”

He is dressed like it is a fashion show.

We aren’t that fancy when digging.

Who digs in those shoes?

Who digs?

This piece looks like I dug it up.

But it was on a shelf.

I wish I had dug it up; it would have been far less expensive that way unless you calculate the blisters from digging or bruises from dumpster diving. I haven't done that in years; however, if you follow Chelsea's stories on Instagram, you will see me tearing a door apart. I am an animal when it comes to the brocante.

This one is in training.

Let me know if you are interested in antiquing, going to open markets, meeting artisans in their homes, hanging out over delicious meals, and riding all over Provence in a van with like-minded people. You won’t regret it xxx, even if we dumpster dive!

When a Child’s Home…

is in the country

open space

safe

freedom to run outside straight from bed until sunset

Where you can see your shadow follow you, the stars twinkle and the night owl sing you to sleep.

when a child can be a child in a world called home.

Be the Peace

Chelsea’s Home Renovation

The renovation begins.

My daughter and her family moved back to our town in the south of France. They live three minutes away.

Rene and his wife are at it again: renovating!

That wall where the fireplace stood is coming down.

To watch the transforma,tion follow Chelsea on Instagram

Your French Rendez Vous

Can you imagine the imagination, the adventure, the history taking place in this little heart?