French la Vie

Sacha and the Italian Girlfriend... his Juliette from Verona

A Walk with Baby

 

The morning started with Gabriel and I sneaking out with the strollers for croissants, pain au chocolates, apple turnovers, and a baguette. Not even the scent of freshly baked goods could wake up Gabriel so I walked around the village: Baby bundled up in a stroller, whiffs of buttery croissants, a blue Provencal sky, bumpy cobble stones that I never noticed before, falling leaves and one happy Vavie (my Grandmother name that was the same name as my Azorean Grandmothers and my Mom's grandmother name, and now mine too.)

My Boyfriend's Back

 

Oh and Chelsea, Martin, Sacha, and his Italian girlfriend too.

 

 

Summer's End

 

Summer is a royal feast for the senses. The color of the season surprises me over and over again, it never grows old, nor ordinary or expected. The season's gift is appreciated. Oh, that Provencal blue sky against the golden wheat. Gasp. It is the first time, isn't it? Do I smell baked bread?

I know I do.

The earth soaks in Provence: thyme, lavender, rosemary, fennel and certainly the Mistral stirs it then with ease, passes through the air, tangles with the rain soaks within the rocky clay soil to the roots soaring to the vines... and the wine flows with the scent of it all.

Abundantly.

Abundant life.

Pleasure under my feet and above my head.

French countryside wealth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will miss this summer it was one of the best.

 

 

A Taste for Life

 

 

When each bite is delicious, when you do not have to search for the flavor, then a little is enough.

I once read somewhere, that when you take a bite of something without much flavor our appetite keeps searching, possibly eating more to find the depth of flavor. But when we taste something truly divine then we sit back and savor the moment.

Wearing the Crown

 

Wear the crown.

The one that rests upon your heart.

The one that has been with you since you were born.

Hold it, feel it, admire it, treasure it.

Some might say it is a crown,

but we know better than that.

It is a halo, a sacred gift, life-giving love.

 

The Heart Knows What it Wants, or Does it?

Months have gone by where I have been asking myself why do I have a writer's block? Not that I am a writer per se, but someone who has a little blog that floats aimlessly. Not that floating is bad, or aimlessly isn't a direction. In these last several months I have been toying with myself, possibly not really listening, avoiding, maybe even standing still. Sure I have plenty going on, and happy is in the equation, cause I am, nevertheless, a writer's block, a wall with cracks is before me.

Time is needed to write, writing involves reflection, reflection brings up pieces of the heart, mind, and soul, and dirt, chaos and a chunk of "what is this"? Time helps sort it out, floating aimlessly is an art of letting go and eventually letting it be.

Maybe it is not a writer's block but more of a stirring pot... where things come up and go back down. Maybe, I am asking myself,

 

"Where do I want to go, be, do... instead of floating contently. "

 

 

 

 

Join Me in France

 

A month ago I listed the 2020 French la Vie Journeys and am grateful how fast most of them have filled up. There are a few spots left so I am listing them here in case you are interested or know of a friend who might be.

On the French la Vie Journeys we will focus on the brocante though there is so much more that we will experience.

 

The French la Vie starts in April until October. I have two more groups this season and then a pause until April 2020.

During that pause, I will restart my Brocante Online. I had to put the Brocante Online on the side as I could not manage to lead the groups, helping my friends with their home in Cassis, buying for my clients who have shops and cuddling a baby. I thought I had more energy, stamina, and time than I actually did. Somewhere in that vast plan, I forgot that I needed to have a life and sleep.

A friend mentioned early on, "That is a packed year ahead ..." I should have listened.

My parents often said to me, "You cannot keep burning the candle at both ends."

They were right.

 

Loving what I do is the reason.

I simply cannot get enough of the brocante,

of living in France, of experiencing the lifestyle it offers, of embracing the beauty that is literally everywhere.

 

 

 

 

Living full throttle but wanting to push the pedal, even more, is a paradox for an introvert. I know how to be an extravert but love to be alone and gather my energy in those times. That is another thing I forgot to do was give myself time to breathe and be alone.

Maybe that is why today I took a two-hour nap at ten this morning.

 

 

 

The dates for the French la Vie 2020

 

Please join me on:

 

 

 

April 7th - 14th over Easter 2020 ... Three places remain

 

April 28th - May 5th 2020... SOLD OUT

 

May 12th - 19th ... One Place Remains

 

September 8th to the 15th... One Place Remains

 

September 29th to October 6th... Four places remain

 

 

 

If these dates do not correspond with you I am open to adding another week to create a private tour

for you and two to three more friends of yours. 

 

Hopefully, we can see each other next year,

 

Corey

 

 

 

 

 

Brocante Heaven

 

Several months ago at the flea market here in France, I was digging through a box, pulling out one piece of antique linen after another. I love moments like this... a cardboard treasure chest and nobody around to watch me drool over my discoveries. Then as if the French flea market fairy landed at my feet the dealer said to me, "I have a whole attic full."

My mouth dropped, my heart skipped a beat, but I managed to compose myself to ask, (in French with my twangy American accent,), "Can I come to your home and take a look."

"Sure." She beamed back, rubbing her hands together, as I hugged my heart.

The flea markets in France are like being a kid in a candy shop. Imagine chocolate corsets, lollipop linens, sweet sheets, and boxes after cardboard boxes full of other tempting treats. You never know what you’ll find, but one thing is certain you will find a paradise full of amazing treasures, and the invitation to dream. 

 

From the very first step into the French flea market, one feels they have gone back in time. The vast array of antiques is overwhelming. There is something for every age and pocketbook. It is as if Marie-Antoinette and Louis the Sixteenth are standing by your side smiling, as you rummage through tabletops of painted porcelain dishes, silverware, monogram linens, and tea sets that seem to beg you to sit down and eat cake.

 

First lesson when buying antiques:  See with your heart. Buy what you like, what has value to you.  Any piece will become more valuable with age. But not every antique is going to make your heart sing. Some of us find peeling paint attractive, others like the smooth feel of a rich patina, yet others find the sleekness chic. What is your style? 

When I arrived at the antique dealer’s house she took me up to her attic it was stuffed full of faded grandeur. I nearly wet my pants I was that giddy. "Is this the stairway to heaven?" I asked. The dealer was very kind she said, "Take your time, open any box you want. I'll be downstairs.

Antiques come in many sizes, shapes, texture, and style. It doesn't have to be a gilded 18th-century mirror to be valuable. Some elements make a piece authentic: The original mercury glass, the patina, the bold hits of age. Some clues to look for are is it has a story, a history, the quality of the product, the material it is made out of, the rarity, and the condition it is in. But the bottom line is... Does it have value to you? 

France’s culture creates the ordinary into extraordinary. In the faded grandeur of peeling paint and rusty iron, the history of time unwinds. When you see something you like on a stand, the first thing to do is say, "Bonjour Monsieur or Bonjour Madame.” to the dealer(s) then ask if you can look at the object of interest. Turn it around, look on the back, the sculpting, is it regular or slightly uneven? Are the colors washed with age? Can you see how the piece has been used? For example, a drawer handle will be worn, grab it and feel the softness of usage. 

There is plenty to say, to learn, to know, to love about antiques. 

Thankfully, France has a rich past with antiques where things were kept, guarded and passed down. Over the years I have seen plenty of things bought, sent off, and or recycled.

This is what I love most about France (Well not counting Yann, Chelsea, Sacha, Martin and now Gabriel.) the antiques that have given me avenues of learning about the French culture, lifestyle, and beauty. 

In the end, I bought some linens... and then called some friends to come over who deal in linens on a grander scale then I do. Everyone was happy.

French Brocante Finds Over the Years

 

 

 

 

Baby Love

 

Gabriel three months old.

Photos via Chelsea

The Magical Kristin

Twenty five years ago I met Kristin at a brocante, she had a stand there and I bought a stack of bowls from her. We have been friends ever since. Both of us have remained crazy for the brocante. Though Kristin is magical as my friend Allison said, "Kristin lives as a real-life Beatrix Potter character. Certainly, as night falls she transforms into a mouse, and her home a storybook."

Kristin loved this thought of Allison's.

To understand you have to meet Kristin and enter her home. Every French la Vie group has visited her and everyone wants to return. Here are a few photos that barely capture her universe.

 

An Antique Dealer's Treasure Trove

 

 

The French la Vie group went to the home of an antique dealer friend of mine who opened up her trunk to show us some of her favorite antique pieces. Above is a calligraphy piece where the intricate details of the script were beyond anything I have even seen in calligraphy.

Each piece she showed us was more beautiful than the next. 

 

 

 

(an example of a men's garter)

 

A folder for a map.

 

 

 

 

a piece of hand-painted wallpaper

 

 

 

Embroidery silk crest.

 

The trunk held much more but I became enthralled with what I was looking at and intent listening to what she was saying

that I stopped taking photos...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So Much Beauty in One Day

 

A Few Snaps of What we saw Today

 

When are you coming?

Preparing for the Next French la Vie

 

 

Preparing for the Next French la Vie

 

 

The Basilica of Saint Maximin

 

 

 

 

  Photos below via ...to see more click here.

 

The beautiful basilica Saint-Maximin. Over 700 years old. The monumental royal basilica was raised by the Charles 2nd d'Anjou in the honor of Mary Magdalene. It is one of very few French historical organs which miraculously survived the French revolution. We had the organ played during Chelsea's and Martin's wedding. The skull and bones of Mary Magdalene are in the crypt there is a glass dome said to contain the relic of her skull. The oldest church in France is the basilica of Saint-Pierre-aux-Nonnains in Metz. In Paris, the oldest church is the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés is built in the 6th century. In Provence the oldest church is in Aix is the Cathédrale Saint-Sauveur d'Aix-en-Provence. The cathedral is built on the site of the 1st-century Roman forum of Aix.

 

 

 

100 Year Old Cheese Company in My Hometown Willows

When I was a teenager I worked one summer at the Rumiano Cheese Company. Their cheese is excellent and the company has grown over the years. Their son Owen moved to France over a year ago to be with his French girlfriend. Imagine that two of us in France from the rural town of Willows.

Today the Rumiano Cheese Company was written up in the New York Times! I am so proud of them!

Below is the article from the New York Times:

 

 

"To hear Baird Rumiano tell it, the story of the Rumiano Cheese Company — which its executives say is the oldest family-owned cheese maker in California — is not simply about cheese.

It’s also a family tale, a story about a making your way in America. It’s a story shaped by war and, more recently, by whey (protein).

Recently, I wrote about how Musso & Frank, an iconic Hollywood restaurant, has managed to stay in business for a century in a rapidly transforming California. I wondered the same about Rumiano, which celebrated its 100th birthday late last month.

Today, the company has almost 200 employees at a manufacturing facility in Crescent City, a coastal town not far from the Oregon border, and at a distribution center in Willows, near Chico.

While the company sells many of its organic cheeses at specialty markets, you are perhaps most likely to have tasted Rumiano’s Cheddar in Annie's Organic Mac and Cheese.

Mr. Rumiano’s great-grandfather started the business not long after coming to California from Italy in the early 1900s.

It started out as a small operation, mostly distributing imports and making a dry Monterey Jack cheese for immigrants like themselves, who longed for Parmesan, which was scarce.

Then, during World War II, the Rumiano family got a government contract to make rations, and business boomed.

“They were supplying the armed forces with what we call American-style cheese,” Mr. Rumiano said, made by taking a natural cheese and remelting it with salt and other preservatives to make it shelf-stable.

After the war, demand decreased, and the factories that Rumiano had opened were whittled back down to two.

By the time Mr. Rumiano, along with his brother John, took over the business from the rest of their family in 1979, the business’s future was tenuous. Neither had much experience.

“We had the slide rule, and we just got to work calculating cash flows and all this other stuff,” he said, “and we decided that you know, I think we can do it.”

The company refocused on churning out fresh, natural cheeses, Mr. Rumiano said.

And its placement in Northern California’s dairy country — where cows can graze in emerald pastures for 300 days out of the year — gave it an advantage.

“My grandfather always said Crescent City had the finest milk of any place in the world,” Mr. Rumiano said.

That’s a big reason the company that had brought processed cheese to California was also among the first to hop aboard the organic foods train. About 70 percent of the company’s milk comes from organic dairy farms, it says, many of which have also been in business for generations.

Nevertheless, Nate Donnay, a dairy industry analyst with INTL FCStone Financial, said it was impressive for a midsize producer like Rumiano to have held out for as long as it has.

 

“There has been a tremendous change in the structure of supply and demand over the past 15 years,” he said, “much less the past 100.”

Cheese companies, he said, must contend with shifts in government policies, weather patterns, and consumer tastes. Over the past decade, higher costs of water and land have driven family dairy farms away from California.

Gigantic plants in the Midwest churn out more than 400 million pounds of cheese per year — the vast majority of the cheese that’s made in the U.S.

But Joe Baird, Rumiano’s chief executive, said the company was working to stay ahead.

In recent years, Rumiano has invested about $20 million in equipment at its factories to separate out whey protein concentrate and lactose.

That serves the dual purpose of decreasing waste and of creating a byproduct that is itself in rising demand.

The company now ships whey protein, for fitness shakes or baby formula, around the world, including to fast-growing Asian markets, where American organic certification is a “gold standard.”

Mr. Baird said that in spite of the growth in Asia and in Mexico, the company is still intent on deepening its presence in its home state.

 

“The brothers have this long view,” Mr. Baird said."

Article from the New York Times

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Bonjour Provence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Provence is waiting for you, and so am I.

 

xxx

 

 

 

Brocanting Happily

A small town not far away from where I live had a brocante today. When we first arrived we were unfortunately greeted with vendors selling used clothing and toys which isn't bad if that is what you are looking for, but in our case, it was far from what we had expected. Nevertheless, part of brocanting is the hunt so off we trodded hoping to find our pot of gold. One thing is certain if you go to small-town French brocantes you will see plenty that you do not want, but when you do find something you want the reward will be the price. 

We left with armfuls and very pleased with our morning hunt.

 

Allison, Sarah, Deanna, and Sue hamming in up with not century-old pottery pots of

Olives, pickles, mustard, and honey.

I hope you will join me one day.

xxx

French la Vie

 

The beginning of the French la Vie Journey with Allison Wood Sue Comporato, Sarah Lammey Webb and Deanna Bailey. What a sign of friendship made when a group returns for a second time! We ended the evening at a local wine bar where Deanna, a wine expert led the wine through red white and rose. I hope you will join me one day for an unforgettable journey through Provence. Thank you, Deanna, for the photo please note all the glasses are empty does that mean I drank it all by myself? 

Second Time Around

 

 

 

 

Spent the afternoon with my friend Mo, one of the most creative generous souls I know.

The French la Vie Group wanted to see Mo again as they visited her the first time they came to Provence with me.

Imagine the connection to someone, their craft, the invitation to know Provence off the beaten track and to want to do it again.

One love feast after another, a constant circle of love.

When you come to see me, let's go see Mo who lives a few miles away.

To see more of her amazing black clay pottery glazed in white follow this link:

http://revesdargile.canalblog.com/

 

The Problem with Ribbons.

 

A blue-ribbon with hand-painted flowers. One of many in a trunk at the brocante.

What is it about lace, ribbons, bows... girl fluff? Why do these trunks, and there are many, make me stop and look? Given that I can't stand to cut into old textiles, I usually go home and add the girl fluff to a basket.

Oh, those darn big leather-covered wooden trunks with heavy locks and old labels, just tempt and tease, they seem to haunt:

"O...P...E...N - M..E!"  

And I do.

 

 

 

Maybe the main attraction is because I can put a ribbon anywhere. It isn't heavy and it does not take up any room.

French Husband shakes his head, "Then why do you like books? And chairs? And urns? And statues...

I put my hand over his mouth.

 

 

 

 

Laughing is a Good Medicine

If you want to hear Gabriel laughing out loud follow this link to my facebook account then scroll down a bit to see it.

https://www.facebook.com/corey.amaro

Perfect gift for Yann's Birthday xx

Random Thoughts

 

 

 

Today baby Gabriel laughed and laughed out loud for the first time.

 

 

Today is the eve of Yann's 57th birthday.

 

 

 

 

 

Today our friend was laid to rest.

 

 

This Thursday Chelsea and family head back to Paris after staying with us for two months, withdrawals I expect on my part.

 

 

 

This weekend starts the French la Vie Journey with Sarah, Sue, and Deanna. My good friend Allison is coming from the States to drive.

 

 

 

Chelsea, Gabriel, and I will be going back to Willows in November

 

 

 

Since July 2016 I haven't had a migraine, grateful every day.

 

Loving All the Way, It is the Only Way

 

 

 

Miracles do happen.

Prayers are answered.

Love does find a way.

And we are all in this together.

Life continues to continue.

Baby Love

What to do When You Come to France

            

Things to do when visiting France:

Buy a stack of postcards, and ask the baker, the waiter, the bus driver, the cafe owner, the lady with a poodle... to write a note for you to mail to your friends back home. In French of course.

Go to the open market, buy a baguette, some olives, a bottle of wine, some fruit and cheese. Have an impromptu picnic.

Dance on the streets.

When visiting Paris, take bus #69 from the Eiffel Tower until Pere Lachaise, and back. Every time the bus stops take a photo.

Go skinny dipping in the Mediterranean.

Collect the ordinary, the little treasures that often are disregarded.

Learn to say three words in French: MERCI-thank you, BONJOUR-hello, and OUI-yes.

Strike up a conversation...by asking for directions, even if you know your way around.

Take a paint set and paper, hike to the top of St Victorie and paint a homage to Cezanne.

Write a love letter and slip it under the mattress in a bedroom at Chateau de Chenonceau or your hotel room.

Record church bells.

Sign up for a cooking class. Or go to a grocery store and ask someone how they make a Tarte de tomate. 

Take a deck of cards and play card tricks at a cafe.

Find me at the brocante.

A Photograph of Chelsea as a Child

 

                                               In bed with a bowl of cereal. Her room was my dream room: Enchanted filled full of antiques. Then when she turned twelve she had a different idea, and it became her dream room equally sweet but without the antiques.

In this photograph, I see Gabriel with long hair when he will be four years old.

 

Want to Visit Provence?

 

 

If you come to Provence take time to be, time to let Provence get under your skin and into your heart. Provence is a place to wander aimlessly, to taste the countryside, to soak in the sounds and to follow your thoughts until they are just a mountain of softness and valleys of delight.

Provence is spread out like a quilt of many colors starting with the sky and everything between it and the blue sea, from the olive trees, vineyards, tiled roofs, confit pots, cigales, rosé, rows of lavender and stone walls.

Let me lead the way, come I will give you a key to open the source of sweetness that is Provence.

 

 

Opening hideaway places, and visiting private homes and artist's studios.

 

 

 

 

Discovering the history behind antiques, culture and the Provencal lifestyle.

 

 

 

With time to wander in places worthy to paint and write poetry about.

 

 

 

 

Sip Champagne in the middle of the afternoon while the cicadas sing you to dance.

 

 

 

Impromptu picnics, and moments to just be in the moment.

 

 

 

To go to as many brocantes as you would want, without worry about how to take your purchases home.

 

 

 

Meals with my friends, meals at restaurants and at my home, provided with as a feast of friendship.

 

 

 

 

To be inspired.

 

 

throughout every moment to be surrounded by happy places.

 

 

To allow you to feel home in a foreign land.

 

 

 

 

 

History connecting you to a never-ending story.

 

 

 

 

Under a tiled roof, comfy-cozy wonder goodness.

 

 

 

Transportation provided, I wish it were this, with a linen canopy and fluffy chunky floral pillows to soften the bumps. Transportation so you can enjoy the scenery without reading a map, nor missing a turn.

 

 

 

May Poppies,

June Lavender,

September Grapes,

October, pumpkins

Everyday beauty to discover.

My favorite time of the year, May for flowers, Winter for calm, June for a touch of summer, October for the markets...

The weekends for the brocantes.

 

 

 

 

The dates for the French la Vie 2020

 

Please join me on:

 

 

 

April 7th - 14th over Easter 2020 ... Three places remain

 

May 12th - 19th ... Two Places Remain

 

September 8th to the 15th... Two Place Remain

 

September 29th to October 6th... Four places remain

 

 

If these dates do not correspond with you I am open to adding another week to create a private tour

for you and or for two to three more friends of yours. 

 

***

 

Seven days, 3500 Euros includes everything

(transport, lodging, meals, drinks, excursions, adventure...) 

except for airfare, insurance, and personal purchases.

 

 

 

 

Please share.

And if you are in Provence just come by and say hi!

What Matters

love.

family.

friends.

and passion that stirs from head to toe.

A Calmness After a Storm

 

There is calmness after a storm,

A place where the ground is tender and can bare our footprints.

Where raindrops wait on petals, delicately.

The moment after a storm - still and silent, which holds its hand towards us.

The path is new, life's spirit is a silent dance partner asking us to follow.

The moment after a storm. Longing to see if the sun will break the darkness.

Thank you for your messages and generous outpouring of friendship and support. I will pass your messages on to Patrice's family who certainly needs courage and grace. They are stunned. 

If someone speaks of loneliness or seems to be depressed or simply lacking luster for life I am reminded to reach out, to extend myself, to meet the call, to give what I have received.

Spread kindness by being open to love. 

 

The Undercurrent

The unexpected ways of life. How can I say I understand it when it constantly surprises me?

One day we are celebrating two dear friend's marriage, the next day we are fortunate to be with Chelsea, Martin, and Baby at our friend's home and today we learn that our neighbor and a good friend had committed suicide. I cannot fathom how that can be. Before we left home for a vacation, a week ago to be exact, I saw our friend he was showing me the bronze goose head he put on his bike's handlebars were he could hide a key, and how he wallpapered his bike in flowers. He was constantly creating things, like his amazing pumpkin lasagna, or adding mirror around his window to bring in more light, or tearing down a wall to make the space bigger, I could talk to him from our window to his window. The last time I saw him, a week ago, we talked about baguettes and how the new boulangerie was. I had no idea that he was contemplating an end.

I wish I could go back in time to erase your pain, your doubts, your fears whatever demon that got inside your head and heart. I wish I could have known. Maybe I wasn't listening to the undercurrent in your voice? Was it there? Did I miss the sign? 

I feel sorry for your family.

I cannot imagine any of this, although it is true. How sad you must have been under that smile.

Godspeed dear Patrice.

 

 

Wedding Bells for Our Friends

Our friends Sylvie and Pierjean were married in Saint Laurent the oldest church in Marseille. It dates to the year 800 and was built on a Roman temple site. Saint Laurent is on the tip of the old port which gives a view on the boats coming and going the journey is promising. 

 

 

 

The reception followed at a Bastide outside of Aix.

 

 

 

 

They hired a very young chef  (22 years of age) and gave her free rein in planning the menu and dessert.

She had an idea to make a modern wedding cake.

DELICIOUS with fresh fruit and flowers, felt like I was taking a bite of the garden of Eden.

 

Marriage Bliss

 

 

 

-----------

We returned to spend the last few days at our friend's Rodger and Arnelle's home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Friend Sylvie

Our friends Sylvie and PierreJean were married today. Happiness overflow. I posted some photos and videos on my Instagram account if you would like to see more follow me there.

We returned back to our home away from home, very late nearly 4 in the morning. But our friends are certainly still dancing under the moon!

The Gift of Silence

Rarely is silence truly heard. Quiet yes, where one can hear a distance car or white noise in the background. Utter silence where my other sense become more apparent that is silence. The gift of silence is the space it opens within us, anew room within ourselves to enter.

 

 

 

 

Our friends Arnelle and Rodger offered their amazing home to us for a "family moon" they called it. A gift to baby Gabriel, a time for our family to be together. Unfortunately, it did not work out when Sacha was here. We have simply enjoyed ever single minute together in their enchanting universe.

Today was the first day my wrist did not hurt. 

 

 

While sitting by the pool reading I heard an unfamiliar brief sound, it came from above but I couldn't imagine what it could be.

I looked around and saw nothing but blue skies, the olive trees, the last tiny blooms on the lavender plants and the stone walls. The sound came again, I saw two birds, was the sound of bird's wings? I couldn't believe that to be true. So I waited to hear again believing I was mistaken. Then two doves flew overhead and not only did I hear the same sound but I saw their wings flutter the same moment as I heard them.

The gift of silence is hearing sounds that rarely are heard within all the noise that deafens the song of nature.

 

 

 

 

Later as I took a walk down the lane along the stonewall, passed the fields of grapevines full of fruit nearly ready for harvest, with crickets singing I heard the wind rustling through the dry wildflowers.

Enchanting the simplicity of this moment, the gift so freely giving and so often not seen.

Need a Bookshelf Idea?

My friend Arnelle's bookshelf.

Very French.

Great ladder.

Repurposed.

B  R  A  V  O!

A New Place to Dream About

 

Our friends Arnelle and Rodger  (from San Francisco) have a stunning old home in France. They come here often and when we can we get together. This summer Chelsea and Martin were having a baby which meant our paths did not cross one another. Before Arnelle and Rodger left to go back to the States they offered us to take a mini vacation and to stay in their home in France. 

Chelsea, Martin, Yann, Gabriel and I are here...

I am never leaving.

I have loved their home since the very first time I came here, but now I am going to move in. Chelsea, Martin, and Yann are dreaming up schemes.

 

 

He is staying too.

Just don't tell his parents.

Old Photographs from the 1900s

 

His tilted hat and sailor shirt.

Somebody's great great grandfather.

How I would love such a photo of mine.

 

 

 

 

 

A few tattered notebook pages found in a box with some mix-matched trinkets. Photographs are plenty at the French brocantes so I shouldn't be surprised by them any more than seeing all the discarded antiques, but I am. Old photographs that were most likely stored and left upstairs in the attic or on the top of a closet shelf. Families come and go and with it, some things were left behind or were displaced after the war.

 

 

 

The pages contain various sizes of black and white photos of one family over several years in starting in 1907.

 

 

 

 

This photo feels like a painting. I love the shadows playing on the clothes.

Renoir!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A young woman in a beret runs behinds a horse-drawn carriage. A trunk sits on top of the carriage as someone leans out to say good-bye. The note below reads, "1906 Leaving for England."

 

 

 

 

Roses with a Bee

My hope was to take photos of what I found this week at the brocante. Though I ran out of daylight to take the photo of the item that I found.  Sometimes my good intentions become clouded by either my forgetfulness, over-planning or a diversion of the path actually I am rarely on a path, and my forgetfulness plays havoc on most of my best-laid plans. Daydreamers (or I should say someone like me,) tend to not only stop and smell the roses, they become the roses or in my case roses, a few thorns, with a bee in the middle.

Tomorrow we are going away for a few days on a much-needed break. Chelsea, Martin, and Baby are coming with us. Arnelle and her husband Rodger (blog readers) have graciously offered their beautiful home for us to stay in. My only regret is they won't be there.

xxx

What did you do Today?

 

Today was my first day back to the brocante since the end of June when there was a French la Vie.  

One-handed but I managed with Yann's help. Do you know that Yann started to help me at the brocante when I broke my wrist six years ago.

I found many fantastic things, but I saw much more than I could buy. 

What did you do today?

 

 

Roses Sent me Off

 

 

Rose petals are love notes from the other side.

 

They have to be as they are so simply lovely.

This morning before heading to the brocante I saw the roses outside my kitchen are in their second time this year.

 

 

 

 

 

Petal by petal.

Word for word... Love.

 

 

 

 

A pink Prince Charming.

 

 

 

Lovely graceful beautiful roses,

Thank you for blooming year after year outside my kitchen window.

 

xxx

Seeing Purpose in the Smallest Things

                                     

 

Seeing purpose in all things no matter how small, or undefined. Each small task, minuscule, insignificant seemingly unimportant

holds a reason for being.

The seed

the toiled dirt

the pollen

the spinning spool

the collected shell

The tool to carve the shell into a button

the needle

the stitch

the knot at the end

the hand the many hands that passed the button on to me.

 

Hand-sewn button on the backside of a 19th-century linen pillowcase.

Perfect harmony, and still intact. Whatever task I do, no matter how small, I want to give it my best.

 

Can I Post Baby Photos All Day Long?

 

 

 

 

 

Two Months Old Today

For the Love of Old Paper

 

Old papers carry stories, memories, personal messages that one day will be lost as we use less and less the written word.

What will be passed on will not be touchable. 

One of my fondest things to do when I go home to my Mother's house is to sit at her desk and pull out the Rolodex and see addresses and phone number written out in my Father's and Mother's hand.

I see them in their writing. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A sampling of old wallpapers that I use to have.

Some I regret giving or selling.

 

 

 

Paper bundles. I started selling paper bundles because my addiction got carried away. 

I still make them on demand.

 

 

When I worked with Georgianne Lane for Victoria Magazine we went to my friend Odile's shop to do a photoshoot. 

Odile loves old paper and textiles too.

 

 

Epiphany King's Cake feves or tokens that are baked in the cake.

If ever you want some let me know. Plenty of different designs and shapes. 

 

 

 

I cannot help myself when it comes to old papers. 

It is what I am drawn to the most at the brocantes.

 

 

 

I found this example on Pinterest without a link to who it belongs to. But I see my walls slowly looking like this.

My mom can say I am a wall hoarder.

 

 

This type of tinted engravings I just eat up blame it on the romantic in me.

They are easy to find at the brocantes.

 

 

 

 

For years I have been searching for old playing cards like these. I have found plenty of playing cards, but not of this design. One day I will.

Sweet Summer Days

 

Sweet summer days consist of being with this Butterball.

Thank you for your many encouraging comments, thoughts, and prayers. I am appreciative of all of you. I hope I encourage you as much as you encourage me. My life is fuller because of this community gathered here. I have seen the power of friendship over and over through this little blog.

My wrist is better than yesterday, though I took less medication today and it hurt a bit more so I am not doing that again.

On a completely different note, I am letting my hair go white because I am curious to see what it looks like. It is a bit weird to see the roots, and I have doubts, and most likely I won't like it as much but I started, it has been several weeks so far. I hope I do not chicken out (sorry chickens I shouldn't reference you.) I hope I do not change my mind. But I have been known to change my mind even before I have made my mind up.

 

 

 

This is us

This is us.

After our friend's marriage at the church,

before the cocktails and hours before the dinner where we would dance until three in the morning and be one of the first people to leave.

While dancing I would miss Yann's hand on a move that we have done a hundred times before, which would send me sailing without a boat to a distant shore.

Now to wash my hair the tricky part of having one free hand. The humbling part of an illness or an accident or mishap is realizing how much I take for granted. How much I am thankful for the health I have and the care I received and the many notes you sent me! Thank you.

Little by little this will heal, I am fortunate xxx

Wrist Update

 

The very first thing I thought of was, “Oh no I won’t be able to hold Gabriel!”

At least it isn’t broken. Painful more than when I did break it over six years ago. Has anyone had this happen before?