French la Vie

After a Feast on Blackberries

After a very warm summer day topped off with a feast on blackberries without exaggerating: He ate fistfuls; we put him in the tub.

 

Giving Peace a Chance

Peaceful Distraction

A torn leaf

holds the remains of last night’s thunderstorm 

an insect approaches for a sip

walking by I am drawn to the vibrant color 

Mesmerized - my thoughts drift - leading my steps

in a different direction.

Literally.

A few kilometers later I sense the scenery is not the same

I have gone off course.

I keep walking thinking romantically all roads lead to Rome, confident that I will find my way home.

 A few kilometers later Rome is nowhere in sight...

not worried I grabbed my phone to see where I am on the map only to find out there’s no phone service. With no choice I just keep walking until the phone service comes back. Finding a main road I call Yann but it’s too early and he still asleep. I call Martin he answers he comes to rescue me. Baby Gabriel is in the car seat in the back. When he sees me he pulls off the road but in doing so he goes over a bump and pushes the back tire up into space and the front tire spins without traction.

We are in a pickle.

Baby Gabriel confidently giggles as I take him out of his car seat and stand away from the car.

 

Not long after three random tourists pull over to help us: A couple from Holland, a man from Belgium with a ton of needed muscles, and another man from Belgium with weight on his body that will anchor the back tire to the ground. They calculated with sign language and some words in English while I entertained Baby Gabriel.

 

 

While holding Baby Gabriel I took off my Fluorescent jacket that my children gave me for Christmas and put it on the ground so that I could put Chub-a-Lub on it. Then at that moment I gather that Martin had jumped out of bed to come help me, he took Baby Gabriel with him so Chelsea could sleep a little longer ... Gabriel’s diaper was full, his onesie was on backwards and unsnapped though did Baby Gabriel care? And Martin wasted no time to come to my rescue. 

Afterwards I thank the day for such an adventure that ended well.

Never too Old

 

When you fall in love with the brocante it stays with you

The older woman leaned out her window, it could be me one day. 

What will you still enjoy no matter what?

 

 

There is time for Peace

Finding Home

Our friends Rodger and Arnelle have generously offered their home away from home to us for a holiday shortly after we arrived we took an impromptu nap that lasted two hours! The warm breeze passing through the wisteria, the lullaby’s silence, the sturdy stone walls gave haven and we took advantage of its gift.

Open Heart

  

Open and ready may it be, 

to hold to give and receive.

 

 

 

Blackberry Kiss

Funny how something so small and unknown of its impact seems to sip into our consciousness, taking hold in the depths of our being becoming a symbol or a sign of something significant.

On a path deep in the forest where the morning light barely penetrated, where I deliberately watched the placement of my steps as not to trip a blackberry appeared not as juicy nor a plentiful bramble but holy and pure a kiss from nature. As if it were a winning ticket I laughed out loud and knew I had found my way back to myself.
   

 

 

 

Gabriel and his Blue Wooden Sail Boat

When Yann went to Normandy last week he brought back a blue wooden sail boat for Gabriel.

 

A large zinc basin served as a pond for Gabriel to sail his sailboat with sound effects he vocalized of a motorized boat vroom vroom.

Every Step

 

My daily walks continue. During the last several weeks I’ve been waking up earlier than I usually do around six so that I can have a lead beating the heat. I am not a morning person I literally have to push myself out of bed and dress with my eyes close. You might be thinking that since I go to the flea markets I must be a morning person. Yeah no. The flea markets are once a week that I can do especially since I don’t have to leave here until seven. There is an ocean of difference between 6 AM and 7 AM. Certainly, there are more hours between those two numbers. 

 

Walking the Provençal hillside is very different than walking around the rice fields in the Sacramento Valley. The landscape, the earth’s texture under my feet, the scent of the surrounding, also the energy circling around me propelling me onward. Mostly the Sacramento valley is not an upward curvaceous challenge as the hillside around my town. When I arrived here I thought I was a decent walker pumping out six miles in an hour and a half... though I learned quickly when I came back home to France that the French pump out miles in their sleep they pass me by speeding up the hills like hungry wild goats. I am not ready for Saint Jean de Compostelle I have more, a lot more muscles to develop. 

Meanwhile, I continued walking up to Saint Claire above our village and return home taking the trail on the other side of the hill. This morning as two walkers passed me by as if I was tied to a boulder their dog walked alongside me, you know I am slowly getting over my fear of dogs, its eyes were gentle and I swear I heard it say, “Come along you are doing fine.”

Every day whether I like it or not I will walk. Whether it is too hot, too cold, too windy, or raining. It doesn't matter if I walk to slow, or too fast, or get up early or not. What matters is that I do it in faith, is a symbolic gesture for my brother, to be with him in spirit, to use my walking as a prayer, to believe that my energy is helping him, that I am with him in spirit and I am in every step believing that every step I take may be one easier step in his journey with cancer.

 

Sitting on my Desk

Superhero

If only I could have taken a photo this evening

of the little boy (who was between three and four years old,)

galloping around the village fountain

in only bright yellow underwear and a homemade cape attached with a red ribbon tied around his neck.

His smile was megawatt, his eyes glowing with glee as he raised both arms in the air leaping towards outer planets and fighting off evil!

When we walked by he posed with his arms on his hips as his cape folded around his feet and exclaimed in a triumphant cheer,

"I am all the superheroes in one!"

I saluted him.

As I walked on I thought I want Gabriel to believe that he too

can be all the superheroes at once.

A few steps further I wished we could all believe we are superheroes.

 

Brocante Diet

 

Months have gone by with my brocante diet fasting. I put something I had online and helped a friend sell some pieces, and well fasting no more. 

As far as diets go-

Green salad is healthy.

 

 

Green beans with ginger.

 

 

 

Apples, meet the need for the crunch. But not when someone else is eating them.

 

 

 

Melon softens the sweet tooth.

 

 

 

 

Home grown tomatoes stand miles apart from store-bought in flavor. Toast with homegrown tomato and salt. Best lunch.

 

 

 

 

Strawberries, are a quick fix for a snack.

But nothing can compare to the brocante diet. Nothing in my opinion.

 

 

 

The Brocante Diet:

Makes the heart pitter-patter which equals exercise.

I can have big doses, unmeasurable amounts, any day, anytime.

Doesn't matter the size, shape, color, taste... all of it is good.

Soothing.

Filling.

Unsatiable appetite, bottomless pit, it is a diet that allows ample room to grow.  

What is your diet other than family and friends because I am talking about thing(s).

Whatever it is hold it close and thank it for feeding you. 

So Worth Listening To...

 

 

Readjusting Slowly

Thank you to High Anxiety’s Instagram account for the above images and quotes.

 

Returning to France this time has not been as smooth as the times before. After spending months self isolating with my mother barely seen anyone, rarely going out, and amongst other self isolating habits I did not even hug my family goodbye. The first shock of returning was simply getting on the plane, then a taxi, and then on to a very packed train. I wore my mask without taking it off over 24 hours straight... I am not a anxious person yet I felt such crippling anxiety and that has taken time to drain away from me.

 

As much as I’m happy to be home with my husband, daughter, son-in-law and baby Gabriel I am not used to being around people coming in and out and maybe not being as careful as I would be if I were going in and out. It is hard to adjust to coronavirus in a different household and country… In the end the best words of advice I received are from my mother: Do the best you can, you can only control yourself and the rest place in Gods hands.

Please stay safe, take care. 

In the everyday

    

In the stillness. In the darkness. In the forgotten places. In the daily steps. While washing the dishes and taking out the trash. In the emptiness and the fullness and especially at the end of the day,

find beauty.

 

 

 

Undeniably FRENCH

 

Opening the Book on the Shelf

 

Voltaire's Theater Volume two.

Pink paperback.

Worn, though I do not believe this book was ever read. Most likely it sat on a shelf, eventually, it was put into a box and stuffed in an attic. Years later an antique dealer bought the belongings of the house. Discovering the book(s) he found them interesting, decorative, valuable enough to sell. I bought three. I haven't read them, they sit as decorative objects on my shelf.

Stories, dreams, hopes...

Are they sitting on a shelf?

Or are they in an undiscovered box in a faraway attic?

What do I need to take out of my box, dust off, and let it unfold? What part of ourselves have we put into a box out of sight? Where do our stories take us? What chapter are we on?

 

 

Some of Life's Pleasures

Being so close to someone you hear their heartbeat.

Planting a seed and watching it bear fruit.

The subtle change of one season to the next.

Hearing silence.

Birth.

Witnessing courage.

Hearing your own inner voice soothe yourself.

Hugging.

Stories like Annie's ... the watermelon juice.

Being forgiven.

Having faith without reason.

Beginner's luck.

Having taste for life where we can drink it in gulps.

Falling stars.

Memories that hold us together.

Not fearing change.

Human touch.

Longing.

Ice cold beer on a hot day.

Singing.

An unexpected love letter.

Taste.

Falling asleep on a beach with sounds rushing together calmly.

A miraculous split-second decision 

Breathing.

 

What    are    some    of    yours?

 

 

 

Go Ahead You First

Walking as a Prayer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The morning walk that I have done every day since I heard about my brother's illness. Walking has become a prayer, and also time to reflect. To be thankful for what I have to be mindful, and to plant peace with each step. 

The photos above are all within a mile radius of my house. I know each of these spots well; The river, the center of the village, along the cemetery wall, doors that I like, facades that are so Provençal that they sing up to the blue sky, the 16 fountains in our town where I dip my hands in to cool off, and in the back of my mind the not so distant memory of doing the same thing in Willows… Walking with my thoughts and prayers, hope, a few wild dreams, and frustrations... where kicking stones is a good release.

Stay strong Marty. 

Merci Diogenes for the message and quote xxx

 

A Half Open Door Where is it Leading?

 

"When one door closes, another opens;

but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door

that we do not see the one which has opened for us."

Alexander Graham Bell 

 

But what if the door only opens half-way?

 

Lately, life seems to be pulling out all sorts of tricks, the world's "door" seems to be half-opened like the photo above. Concerns, questions, more questions, answers that take time to unveil, unrest surfacing yet the root begging us to look deeper. Do I see the door half-open or half-closed? Is life asking me to trust? Change? To look deeper? Most definitely all of the above. 

Unprecedented. Challenging. Facts, fiction, and fears mingle amongst us.

I long for the time where I counted the days to the next brocante.

I long for the days where I never saw life as full of germs.

I long for the time where I never measured the distance between myself and others.

I long for the pleasure where hugging and kissing was a common greeting.

Yet I long more for a world where we truly believe in one another. Where we live in a community that honors everyone and strives to be whole.

Where love is more than pretty pictures.

 

"What is you could love yourself fully,

including your imperfections?

What if you could love others in the same way?

With mindfulness, you can become the love you have sought.

And with this love you are also returned to yourself."

Jack Kornfield

Gabriel

 

 

Chelsea calls him "Love Love" and he is and we do.

Chelsea was washing the dishes, I was preparing something and Gabriel sat at the kitchen counter angle between us. When I saw the light, and those silk ribbon tied rolls I grabbed my cell phone to take a photo of him. It is times like that I wish my camera was as near as my phone.

We are deeply in love with this little person. 

 

 

 

What a Collection!

A Bit of Brocante

 

Antique paper

love

drool

But I cannot get attached that is the downside to being a buyer.

Desire.Hoarding.Sentimental. are not qualities to have if you are a buyer to resale.

(Wait a sec is hoarding a quality? Insert laughing face.) 

 

 

 

Taking the steps to reopen my online business. Though all I want to do is hold the baby.

Plus the idea of going to a brocante makes me anxious given the situation we are facing.

How does one social distance when one wants to dive in and dig?

Will my passion for finding old things push me back into the saddle?

Of course, if I am honest I have stock since I haven't been here to do anything with it. So I could start with what I have and maybe go to the brocante later.

 

 

 

 

Cotton wad paper

1700s or was it 1600s

 

 

 

 

Antique paper is fascinating given how frail it is, how easy it is to discard, how it survived wars...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Royal seals. 

 

 

 

 

Mice detailing adds to the charm right?

 

 

 

 

Favorite.

 

 

 

Thank you for wanting to see baby photos. It is a good thing because I cannot get enough of him. Someone asked about his necklace, it is amber which is said to help with teething pain. Another person asked if his first word are going to be in English? Well, time will tell Chelsea and I talk to him in English. But I think his first word will be in French. Chelsea's first words were in French though that ended rather quickly speaking given I didn't recognize the words, mind you Chelsea tried calling me "Maman", as I didn't respond she called me, "Corey".

Okay, back to the saddle of sorting and gearing up to work again.

 

 

I Promise I Won’t Post Baby Photos Everyday...

 

I promise I won't (though I that is all I want to do) post baby photos every day. Chelsea and her little family stayed with us for a few days. I am amazed I didn't gobble Gabriel up in one bite. He is a healing balm, an adorable joy, a cautious little boyboy and almost as big as me. My brother Marty asked that I send a photo of Gabriel and me, which was sweet. He said he wanted to see us together. Chelsea took this photo.

 

 

It takes every muscle in my body to lift this chunk a lunk. What is funny is when we are sitting on the ground and he wants to get up, meaning me lifting him from a sitting position well yeah that is not going to happen. I gotta stay in shape if I want to keep up with him. 

Being a grandmother ( I want to be called what I called my grandmothers and what my children call my mother which is Vavie coming from the Portuguese word Avo.) is such a pleasure! I thought to be a mother was the ultimate, but being a grandmother is the icing on the cake without any of the parenting and dirty diapers. 

So I will try to hold back on posting baby photos seven days a week.

 

This Little Life

119 Flowers

Back in early March when I started to feel the delicate balance of our world as we know it and COVID 19  gaining ground I began to post a flower photo a day to my Facebook account to offer a sign of hope, cheer, serenity...

As of today, there are 119 photos here a few of them for a Sunday Bouquet.

 

 

Flowers from my sister in law.

 

 

 

 

During a walk in my village

Flowers for peace of heart

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a shop window in Paris.

 

On a walk while in Paris

 

 

 

Outside a flower shop in Paris

 

 

 

In a garden pot

 

 

 

 

Gabriel in our garden. Chelsea sent me this photo.

 

 

 

 

 

On the way to my mom's house.

 

In my mother's garden

 

 

Mother and Child

Mother and Child

The Sacred Forest Where I Live: Saint Baume

 

The healing grace of living and walking in the countryside.

 

 

These photos are from my village which sits at the base of the Saint Baume Mountain. The ancient stone bridges are at the Source du Nans natural park about a mile from our home. Chelsea and I strolled Gabriel there to put his feet in the ice-cold natural spring which is said to be the tears of Mary Magdelena (read more below). 

 

 

My form of physical exercise is walking. I started walking several years ago but when I went to California I picked up my pace trying to do 10,000 steps an hour and a half, by the end of my stay I could do 12,000 steps in an hour and a half though I knew when I returned to my home in France the flat land of the Sacramento valley would be replaced by the Provencal foothills. It took me a few days to reach 12,000 steps in an hour and a half. Stopping to take photos or pick flowers or admire the scenery comes after my walk. Thank you for the comments regarding my post a few days ago. I feel good and walking in nature has helped me feel this way. I haven't lost weight as some of you mentioned I am more toned and am not wearing oversized babby clothes.

 

 

 

We live at the base of a truly enchanted forest one with a rich history of spirituality and folklore. I found this blog post and it speaks perfectly of what I know to be true of this area.

The following text is from:

Cherry Chapman's

A Psychotherapist in Paris Blog

Reflections, thoughts, and insights of being a therapist in the city of light and love.

"Sunday, July 22, many gathered in Saint-Maximin la Sainte Baume in southern France, to honor Mary Magdalene, as they have for ages.  I was unfortunately not one of them this year for several reasons.

For me, July the 22 nd has been a special day for a long time because it is the feast day of my favourite saint, Mary Magdalene.

I learned the hard way that going to the south of France during July and August is to be avoided, unless you want to fight crowds, be stuck in traffic jams and pay inflated travel costs.

Nevertheless, as the feast day approached, I found myself considering going, but decided, in the end, to wait until after the frenzied crowds abated.

Those of you who know me and who have been faithful readers of this blog,  probably already know about my devotion to this saint, as I have written about her previously in a post last September 2012.

La Sainte Baume has been like a magnet that continuously keeps drawing me back to her mysterious wild beauty and sanctity.

My most recent photos were taken in May 2013, except for the torchlit procession, which I participated in several years ago.

The procession on the night before, 21 st of July, takes place in Saint-Maximin encircling the Basilica, where her relic (skull) is displayed.

I first discovered Saint Maximin La Saint Baume back in the early ’90s. I was fascinated by the rich tradition and reverence for Mary Magdalen throughout Provence, but especially in this somewhat mysterious area.

And yes, this was well before Dan Brown’s writings about her, so he had absolutely nothing to do with my own beliefs and convictions.

Provencal legend has it that Mary Magdalene, after the death and resurrection of Jesus, left the holy land in a boat with several other people, who were close to Jesus.

Accompanying her was her brother Lazarus, sister Martha, Joseph of Arimathea, her helper Sarah and several others.

The boat eventually landed at what is now known as Saintes Maries de la Mer, in the swampy part of France known as the Camargue, southwest of Marseille.

On May 24, and 25, there is an annual procession and celebration there, that reenacts their debarkation.

All were involved in the Christianization of southern France, especially Mary Magdalene. Lazarus became the first bishop of Marseille, Martha was on to Tarascon, and Joseph of Arimathea went on to found Rocamadour.

After many years of her spreading the teachings and gospel of Christ, Mary Magdalene reportedly retreated to the grotto of La Sainte Baume, where she spent her last remaining years. When she was weak and feeble, she was said to be lifted up and fed by angels.

Geographically, this sacred site is about 30 kilometers west of Marseille, and about 22 kilometers north of the Mediterranean sea.

The tiny village of La Saint Baume is at the base of the mountain, and is basically made up of the hotellerie, that has served as a place of pilgrimage for eons; having not only attracted many of the faithful but forty kings and 15 popes.

Getting there, at least from Marseille, will take you on narrow hairpin roads with steep drop-offs, enough to give anyone little vertigo.

The scenery is beautiful and the air is incredibly perfumed with wild thyme, rosemary, and lavender, as would befit the saint who is always pictured with her alabaster jar of perfume.

From afar, the landscape can appear rather arid and mountainous as it is in most of Provence. Then suddenly you feel engulfed in a thicket of cooling greenery of the Forêt Dominicale of Sainte Baume.

The Dominican brothers, who have guarded the grotto forever, attribute this unusually placed forest to the spirit and energy of Mary Magdalene.

The hôtellerie has been renovated and I was glad to note that the small chapel in back, where hangs a lovely tapestry of provocative symbolism is next on the list.

A few Dominican brothers and sisters mill around discreetly amongst the many pilgrims who come for retreats and visits to the grotto.

For those interested in staying there, the room rates are very reasonable.  All the times that I was there, the meals were nice, composed of an entree, main course, cheese, and dessert, including really decent red or roses wines from the area at unbeatable prices.

I love staying in the hôtellerie for the sweet energy that abounds here and so I can be next to the rather rigorous trails up to the grotto.

There are two ways up, one in my mind more difficult to navigate than the other, but both will take you about 45 to 50 minutes of steep hiking upwards.

I consider myself pretty much in shape, with all the walking I do here, but I must admit I found myself at times getting breathless towards the summit, stopping briefly before the final onslaught of stairs you have to climb to get into the grotto.

Both trails are beautifully covered with canopies of hickory, oak, linden, and European yew, some of which all well over a thousand years old.

The Druids considered the European yew, Taxus baccata, which is indigenous to the area, a tree of death and rebirth.

How fitting that they abundantly line these paths walked by Mary Magdalene, the most faithful of all the apostles to Jesus. Legend also has that it is a pilgrimage for women’s fertility.

One of several freshwater streams rushing down the mountain is said to be sourced by Mary Magdalene's tears.

In hiking up, I could feel her heaviness of heart accentuated with each breath and pull of the muscle. The ascent is meditative, inviting us to bring forth our own tears and pain for deliverance.

As in our spiritual ascension, our awareness becomes sharper, our feelings within swirl to the surface. I found myself wondering also about all the other seekers before me who persevered up this same path with faith.

The grotto, finally reached with much gratefulness, welcomes us in her dim humid coolness. Occasion drips of water seeping out of the walls of the cave break the silent contemplation.

Votive candles everywhere flicker in the darkness, their flames beckoning hope and prayerful intercession.

The descent(opposite to what I took to ascend) was in some ways more difficult to navigate than the ascent. I passed others already exhausted, trying to climb this wildly savage trail that was difficult to decipher which turn to take next, perhaps mimicking life.

Back at the Hotellerie, one feels a quiet sense of triumph and relief from the rigors of the climb.  The sacred moments of being there in her memory still linger with me.

Mary Magdalene leaves behind a legacy of faithfulness, courage, and utmost love and devotion.

In a time when women were viewed with little merits of leadership, except Jesus, who was the world’s first feminist, Mary left her country of origin for unchartered waters to preach the good news of her beloved rabbi Jesus.

Not surprisingly, She was the last to leave the crucifixion of Christ and the first to discover his resurrection.

She invoked the jealousy of the other apostles, especially Peter, who eventually usurped her power and mission to Christianize lands beyond.

Perhaps through a historical analysis of treasures, not yet discovered, or through validation of what has been uncovered, can the truth of her relevant significance be redeemed.

Though the early church fathers accorded her as being the Apostola Apostolorum, or the apostle’s apostle, the Gospel of Mary was never canonically recognized.

In 2016, Pope Francis elevated her feast day of July 22 to be included in the church’s liturgical calendar." via A Psychotherapist in Paris Blog

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blackberries What is it Lately

On the trail, I spotted a small blackberry patch its pink petals waved me over, the blackberries are weeks away from ripeness. As I walked on I thought, "What is it with blackberries this year?" It is as if it is my symbolic message guide or something. Thinking that struck me funny as Covid 19 has changed me... Today a large black beetle was crossing the road I assumed it would be flattened before it could cross safely. Before Covid 19 I would have been too afraid to pick it up but not today, I scooped it up and carried it across the road to safety. Okay picking up a large black beetle might not be the best example of how I have changed... Though the layers of changes are varied and are starting to take root inside me. But I feel the change, we all have changed, haven't we? 

The blackberry patch I saw today wasn't ripe just like me; I am home, back in France, far from my family in California that I reconnected with for five months not quite back in place as my inner world juggles the time, distance, COVID 19 and finding my way around my surroundings my brain keeps saying "Thank you" instead of "Merci" and "Hello" instead of "Bonjour". Even though I am home, and very happy to be back, there is a time of adjustment or "nesting the nest" as Chelsea reminds me.

When I left California I was in the groove the blackberries were plentiful, big, juicy, and very ripe we celebrated with a blackberry-theme-dessert-evening-farewell.

Shortly after I arrived in California I wrote a post about, "Blackberry Faith" never did I expect that I would be there to see them ripen. When I left California I was in the groove the blackberries were plentiful, big, juicy, and very ripe we celebrated with a blackberry-theme-dessert-evening-farewell and now the wild French blackberries in the hills around our home are beginning to ripen...

Symbolically so am I.

Life continues in ways beyond my imagination often speaking with the most eloquent symbols intertwined with the cycle of nature, with its seasons, and mingling with hearts, souls, and minds.

 

 

 

How to Dress in the French Countryside

As I was doing my morning walk I flashed back to the rice fields that I toured for the last five months where I witnessed three seasons unfold. Though where I live in France I would never use the word pancake or the word crepe to describe the landscape around my Provencal village, though in the Sacramento Valley where my family lives the landscape is as flat as a pancake. My goal is to conquer these hills as if they were flat as pancakes. I am walking a tad slower due to the hills and stopping for cars that think the small mountain road is the Indy 500. 

As I was coming downhill I took off my long-sleeved shirt tying it around my waist, I had a tank top on underneath and I was wearing my walking shorts. I was listening to some be-bop music when I heard yet another car approach, I walked as close as I could on the narrow shoulder when the car stopped and an older woman rolled down her window she smiled saying, "We women think we are 15 years old inside! We don't want to grow old." I nodded not necessarily agree with her but that nod that says I am listening. She went on, "15 yes we think we are 15!" She giggled, "And look at you dressed like you are a young girl though when you turned around I knew you were not. Women these days we are alike trying to be as young as we feel. But we certainly aren't fifteen anymore." She laughed, waved, and drove on.

I know I am not fifteen.

I wasn't dressed young I do not know any fifteen-year-old that would wear the shorts I had on. Gee, I was out walking before the day's heat was to set in.

I don't believe she was ridiculing me, her expression wasn't Grumplina nor taunting, though writing this it feels like it was. AND she was at least in her mid-seventies and she presumed I was that age too. After all these years of others presuming I am 10 to 15 years older than I am, I should be accustom to it. I guess you can say I am back in the saddle again, back in France were walking in the hills in a small village one is to dress fashionable, appropriately and their age. 

Nah, tomorrow I am rolling up my shorts. I am 62 and Californian...

we wear shorts and yoga pants whenever.

 

Home and Happy

Home at Last

Today I came back home. 
Though what I did not expect from the three hour train ride from Paris to Provence was that the train would be full, not one single seat empty. When I saw the mob to catch the train I knew that there wasn’t going to be any spacing. Sure it was obligatory to wear a face mask. But after months of being sheltered in place with my mom the train ride was way out of my comfort zone and caused me to panic. I rarely, feel that way.

I knew I wanted to go home and this was the way. Nevertheless, I could not move my feet I was so blown away by the sheer magnitude presented by the volume of people and my range of emotions.

 

 

 

 

I called Yann, then talked to Chelsea. I got on the train, then I got off the train, only to repeat the process as I didn’t know what to do... do you remember that song from the Clash, “Should I Stay or Should I Go Now”? I kept saying it over and over. The last time I got on the train the door shut and that was that I was going with which seemed like all of Paris to the south of France. 

 

A wide range of emotions circled around and around in my head. I knew I had to center down or otherwise I was going to be a wreck when I got home. Though it wasn’t that easy as I felt trapped and hypersensitive to fear of COVID 19. 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, I thought for a moment that locking myself in the bathroom might be my safest opinion. But in the end, I took my seat (not in the bathroom) and closed my eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

Fear slipped away. Happiness filled the void. Hoping that the passengers were all safe. 

I could gobble Gabriel. He doesn’t recognize me but he will very soon.

 

 

 

 

My son in law Martin made a delicious lunch!

Home at last.

I could feel my body relax, my roots unwind stretching down to the sea and across the land. I have let down my guard what peace I felt and the need for a nap.

Thank you for every ounce of love, prayers, encouragement and being here with me I am stronger because of it xxxx

 

 

 

Singularity by Marie Howe

is ALL is everything is

          HOME

 

 

 

SINGULARITY
by Marie Howe

          (after Stephen Hawking)

Do you sometimes want to wake up to the singularity
we once were?

so compact nobody
needed a bed, or food or money — 

nobody hiding in the school bathroom
or home alone

pulling open the drawer
where the pills are kept.

For every atom belonging to me as good
Belongs to you.   Remember?

There was no   Nature.    No
 them.   No tests

to determine if the elephant
grieves her calf    or if 

the coral reef feels pain.    Trashed
oceans don’t speak English or Farsi or French;

would that we could wake up   to what we were
— when we were ocean    and before that 

to when sky was earth, and animal was energy, and rock was
liquid and stars were space and space was not

at all — nothing

before we came to believe humans were so important
before this awful loneliness.

Can molecules recall it?
what once was?    before anything happened?

No I, no We, no one. No was
No verb      no noun
only a tiny tiny dot brimming with 

is is is is is

All   everything   home

Biggest Cherry Ever

 These photos don’t do justice 
to the biggest cherry I have ever seen, honestly, a cherry like this could make a pot of jam as well as put a smile on my face. Cherries remind me of my old neighbor Mr.Porte who passed away years ago. Mr Porte taught me about gardening plus I would pick cherries and figs from his trees and make jam. He was a clever, kind soul, person. Do you remember my stories about him? He knew Annie too. The cherries brought memories of Mr Porte and his twinkling eyes and easy smile. 

Thank you for your kind thoughts yesterday xxx I feel less rattled today. 

 

 

Cracks Makes Way...My Interior Wall

 

 

 

Soulfood restores the heart and mind. 

Finding my source was needed. 

Love leads the way, it does. Finding what gives us life, passion, desire does too.

 

I will go home on Monday. 

 

 

 

Thank you for your messages yesterday. I feel more grounded today. Yesterday I was out of sorts, I felt my wall crumbling and I need to let it go.

 

 

 

 

 

On my walk along the railroad tracks, I found a small vine of blackberries longing to survive. Seeing them

was like a message from above, from within, from the source that says, "Yes, you are not alone."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Staring at Me

The bricks came one by one

Did that make it a ton?

it felt like it.

 

Looking closely at the hues of burnt orange mixed with red 

The wall did not appear, not even a stump,

just bricks out of place staring at me.

 

I know I know 

and yet I don't

bricks not so heavy

but damn them being out of place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Second Thing I am Going to Do....

Yann called

missing me

tempting me to foregoing quarantine

to come home...

he said,

“ Gabriel is coming here tomorrow,”

(you see Chelsea and Martin will be with us for summer as Martin can work from home,)

Yann continued,

“... and I am going to cuddle him, play roll the ball with him, smell his sweetness, push him in the swing and do all the things you cannot do cause you won’t be here.”
I laughed at his sweet tease and said...

“The second thing I am going to do after I love You up is squeeze Gabriel the Butterball until every drop I have missed gathers up into one big happy juicy hello. So you better do what you can because when I get home I am never putting him down.”

...

In a few more days I will be home

time will evaporate as it does

and it will feel like the never ending river flow

of life.

 

 

 

 

 

Back in France

Back in France. Surreal experience at the airports with the haunting emptiness and everyone respectfully wearing masks at times I thought I was in a science fiction film. I arrived last night in Paris and will stay at our apartment to self-quarantine so I haven’t seen my family yet. It feels odd to be this close and not home. But self-quarantine is what we are expected to do to keep everyone safe, and I would not want to inflict anyone if I have it. In a few days (after five months a few days is nothing much to ask) I will go home. The real count down is now! Thank you for your messages I appreciated each one of them.

 

 

Living it as it Comes

Unexpected Pool Party

 

 

My brother drove up to my mom’s home, then he got out with his two children and jumped in...

Who says you cannot bring a pool to the party?

So unexpected and original my mom and I laughed and laughed. We did not get it due to self distancing but man oh man was the temptation great!

Squeezing the Toothpaste

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like to squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, I always have.

I can't help it the plump spot just aching for a squeeze tempting me like a pinch to a fat baby's cheek.

There are certain things we aren't supposed to do.

Rules of life tangled up with meaningful purpose, strict and formal, stiff and sobering,

dictating with a gnawing voice inside, "don't do it."

Often, we might think we can't do something, though, in reality, we can, yet we don't, blaming it on rules of this or that, or the timing, possibly weighing the consequences with a mixture of uncertainty and fear... the what-if factor.

If I could, I would, and yet I can so why don't I?

Hence, my remedy a symbolic act of conquering fear:

Squeeze the toothpaste.

 

Blackberry Feast

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Million Wonders of Now

 

Life is running alongside us begging us to take hold,

literally feeding us with all it has

surrounding us with an invisible yet visible bountiful blanket.

How easy it is to be blinded by the beautiful abundance,

 

as we wake up to a new day with too many stars and grains of sand to count.

Whatever brings you joy no matter how small let it led you,

let it root inside of you, and water it with your longing.

 

 

 

Zinnias' unpretentious joyous wonder can make me smile without even trying with their pop-pop colorful sturdy stock. Zinnias remind me of home, which reminds me of childhood, which reminds me of summer, blackberry pies, and swimming at my cousins' home then coming back for dinner with a bouquet of zinnias on the kitchen table which reminds me of home and the swirl starts over again.  

Summer was bliss is bliss and may it be bliss for years to come.

I am grateful for those days that formed me, that have surrounded me these last few months, simple pleasures, nature's surprises yet constantness the crop duster overhead, the chartreuse rice fields, the starlings dancing intricately in remarkable patterns overhead, and the cornucopia of summer's harvest.

Grateful, spoiled, soaking it up while letting it run through me.

 

 

 

Early evening my nieces, mom, and sister in law drive alongside the rice fields to a certain magical juicy place to pick wild blackberries. We are addicted to picking, to staining our hands violet, to giggling how many blackberries there are, challenging ourselves to pick more, wondering how many pies my mom can make in a year. During this Covid 19 time when I have heard many say, "I am over it" I hear myself giving thanks for the luxury of picking wild blackberries with my family as the sunsets... a simple pleasure unrushed, giving, endless and restorative to mind, heart and soul. 

Counting goodness where it is sending it as a prayer to those in need, may this unexpected joy reach into my brother's tumors and bring a healing change.

Prayer is that to take what we have and send it forward be it work, effort, time, energy, resources, blackberry picking, the joy we feel, the ache we carry...

 

 

 

 

Today I will be a zinnia and send you colorful virtual hugs.

 

 

 

A million wonders in those petals that don't ask for anything.

 

 

Updates

 

 

• My nieces and I are having a hand-picked homemade blackberry bake-off with social distancing outdoors. I plan to lose, have fun and gain some weight tasting the entries.

•  Chelsea told me that before leaving the apartment Gabriel walked over to the cupboard opened it and out took a tin of sardines to carry to the park. Why not? Some kids like candy, some like toys, and some but not many like a tin of sardines.

• As we have heard Americans are banned from traveling to Europe, due to the spikes of Covid19. I am a dual citizen a veritable Franco-American so if my plane takes off I am going to be on it July 5th.
• My brother Marty received his scan results regarding his pancreatic cancer that has spread to his liver the results were positive. As he said to me that his pancreatic cancer will not go away so a miracle is needed, but his results are good and more time is added on to his beautiful life. No other tumors were found either. He will continue chemotherapy. Thank you for the positive force and prayers that you sent and are sending your prayers, please.
• As of today nearly five months since I have been in California I have walked more than 750 miles, seen nearly every episode of Gunsmoke, and have seen baby killdeers hatch, plenty of wild turtles two baby foxes, a duckling, and golden dragonflies.`
• Is there anything better than homegrown tomatoes and fresh corn on the cob?

 

 

 

C'est Craft Interview with Kaari Meng

Photo via Kaari Meng

Join French General Tuesdays and Thursdays at 9am PST for chats with some of our favorite friends, craft demos, and a few of our favorite things.

Our chat will be on Kaari Meng's French General's Instagram live and on YouTube.

 

 

I must say as happy I am to be asked to be part of French General's chat I am a bit nervous too. As those of you who have been reading me for ten thousand moons know, I seldom share photos of myself since I am timid in front of the camera plus very self-conscious of that thing called age. But here I go full throttle with an online interview. You might say this is like doing a bungee cord jump. After I agreed to do the live interview with Kaari I realized two other things one I haven't brushed my hair since self-imposed shelter in place and seriously what am I going to wear since the clothes I brought in February are too hot and the clothes I wear now... tank top, shorts, and a baseball cap I do not recognize myself. As you can see I haven't started freaking out about what the chat is going to be about which is more important than what I am going to wear, insert laughing out loud, funny how the unimportant things take the front seat when worrying.

 

So I hope you will stop by and watch Kaari and me share what we love about all things French because honestly, after not being in France at the brocante let alone not being in Yann's arm's or squeezing Gabriel, I might cry talking about it all. Gee, I hope I don't cry.

Teasing aside We are going to have a good time I hope you will join us.

 

 

 

 

One Step Closer to Home

 

 

the saying goodbye part is stirring

how could it not

knowing I will be going home makes it a soft landing

saying goodbye this time feels different as you can well imagine

I am trying to focus on the absolute lucky chance, the beautiful chance I have been given instead of the hard goodbye.

 

 

 

a barn I walk by nearly every day admiring the rusty tin siding.

 

 

 

 

I have had ample time to notice the littlest of things such as the coloring of petals.

The spots on ladybugs

blades of grass

clouds

the developing stages of pomegranates, blackberries, rice, cattails, black walnuts, almonds, figs, and

the dance of willow branches in the wind.

I have collected eggs when they are still hot and wet and watched killdeer eggs hatch.

 

 

 

 

Nature or earthing has taken over a big part of my daily life and I am going to miss those fields, that magnificent sense of space I have thoroughly enjoyed these last five months.

Time spent with my mom doing nothing at all except being comfortable in each other's space.

The gift of time.

 

 

 

 

Guess What His Favorite Two Foods Are?

 

One year old

without a single tooth

sucking on an apricot.

He walked at ten months, so did his mom, but she had plenty of teeth at his age.

His favorite food, not the apricot he devoured, nor the seasonal Provencal fruit, oh yes, of course, he likes it- he likes everything except avocados. But his favorite food, the food he eats no matter what, the food he looks for and points towards, and cries for more as if it were candy?? 

Ready to guess? Scroll down for the answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Broccoli and sardines.

Yes, you are reading that correctly.

SuperBaby!