French la Vie

Postcards that Tell a Story

 

 

 

 

 

The French Wedding Babysitter

 

 

Martin's best friend since childhood is marrying today. Guillaume was Martin's best man at his wedding last year and Martin is his best man today. A French wedding usually starts in the morning at the City Hall since by law you must marry in the City Hall where you reside. Then and only then if you want can you marry in a church or pronounce your vows in another venue. Usually, the second part, the Church wedding takes place later in the afternoon. French weddings usually go on all night long. At Chelsea and Martin's wedding, I went to bed at 4:30 am I was an early bird.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Chelsea is breastfeeding and Gabriel is six weeks old today, I was invited as the babysitter. The best job ever. I am staying at the Chateau where the reception is taking place, the ballroom is steps away. When Chelsea needs to breastfeed, or when Gabriel needs Chelsea it is easy for her to pop into my room. So far all is good, Gabriel is sleeping and I am writing this blog post. 

If I could be in two places at once I would take some photos, instead, Chelsea has sent me a few to use.

 

What an enchanted summer this is. 

I added the photos of Chelsea and Martin after I posted this blog.

Nearly midnight and the dinner is barely started.

 

Homemade Tomato Sauce and a Summer Evening

 

Homemade tomato sauce is what you do after you have eaten enough tomatoes to make ketchup go out of business. Annie always added hand-picked then dried Marjolaine to her homemade tomato sauce. She spoiled me by giving me a jar of her own dried Marjolaine each summer. Now I am on my own which means I am probably eating weeds. Honestly, I could eat it by the spoonful on a salad or mozzarella. It is deliciously sweet.
French Husband is the one who makes the tomato sauce. He follows Annie's recipe. I boil pasta, sliced buffalo mozzarella, pour wine, turn on the music and put my feet on the table (wishful thinking about the feet part... usually I prepare the jars.)

 

 

 

Fortunately, we have a farmer in our village who sells his homegrown vegetables. We are regular customers. French Husband has even gone out and helped him pick. Though I don't think that is advantageous to the farmer. French Husband eats more than he picks. I have seen him: Knife in his back pocket, a baguette and a bottle of wine under his arm, a chunk of cheese under his hat, garlic in his breast pocket- tomatoes on the vine, the cicadas singing, the blue provencal sky as a blanket.

He knows a good thing about summertime.

 

 

 

 

In a large pan saute a couple of yellow onions and cloves of garlic in olive oil.

Add a ton of chopped tomatoes, some salt, a handful of Marjolaine and some white wine.

 

 

 

Slowly cook for half a century.

Go out and enjoy the day, let the tomato sauce reduce, then blend to the consistency you like.

 

 

Cook some pasta, drain it, then pour in the homemade tomato sauce. Wrap it up in a blanket, carry it to the garden, spread out the blanket, put down some plates, take out the knife in your back pocket, tear off a chunk of baguette, uncork a bottle of red wine, grate some cheese, take off your hat, listen to the cicadas under the evening sky, while you twirl some pasta around your fork. 

 

....................................

 

Summer Garden Fresh

When Friend’s Children Come to Visit

 

 

 

The day started with Sacha making home made pancakes.

Amylia came to visit us from California, she is the daughter of one of my most treasured friends... Erika.

 

 

The pancakes literally made me gain two pounds.

I had to eat them with maple syrup.

Sacha’s pancakes are the bomb.

 

 

 

 

 

Natacha came over with her lovely boyfriend from

 New Zealand. Natacha’s family use to live in France and moved to New Zealand over 12 years ago. We miss you xxx

 

 

 

 

 

One Word

 

 

                             

When we find a place that calls our name in a way that it feels like a sacred song

as if hearing poetry where the lines become arrows piercing our very being.

Where doubt does not enter, and freedom extends her hand with a nod as if saying come sit down be yourself with me. 

When we find a place where our voice echos back a song that we know, a song the sings deeper and higher than we have ever dreamed possible, the song that chants our name in such a way that makes us feel anything is possible.

When we find a place that knows us before we knew it, a place that says...yes you! 

Where we are set free and like that everything within us finds a place and breathes.

Sit still with your poem, tell me one word that describes you.

 

This New Life

 

This is new life. This gift. This new little person has captured every bit of me. 

Hold Close What You Love

Seashells

 

 

First, I must say I use to collect seashells. But that is not why I gave Chelsea her name. 

Secondly, my daughter's prenom-first name is, "CHELSEA." My Father-in-law, a man of very few words, let alone English ones, said to me at her birth: "Chelsea is, "Sea-Shell, backward, non?"

The French pronounce CH as SH, my daughter's name, therefore, is pronounced, "Shel-sea".

When I was pregnant I mentioned to Yann that I liked the name; "Chelsea." Yann looked at me, mouthed the name without any sound coming out, then despite himself he said, "Chilli, you said Chilli!" That should have been my first indicator that English names were not pronounced the same in French, and picking a name that sounds the same in both countries should be foremost in importance.

But I didn't catch that name pronouncing detail back then.

English pronounce Yann as Yawn. French pronounce Corey as Core-Ay. Names like Anna sound the same as does Laura or Mark, well more or less the same, but not nearly as butchered as Chelsea. Chelsea was often called, "Jealsee" by her teachers when a child in school.

Luckily, in France everyone gets by with Monsieur or Madame, names are something reserved for a future relationship. Though, when you have a prenom that isn't French, you are left as a Madame Americaine forever.

Hence Gabriel sounds close enough Gay-briel in English, and Gab riel in French.

I just call him baby.

A Memory of Chelsea as a Child

Child's Play 1991

 

"What can I give her to play with?" My neighbor asked herself. Glancing around her beautiful apartment my eyes could only see one fragile object after another. "Don't worry, I have plenty of toys in my diaper bag." Though my reply fell on deaf ears, she continued opening buffets and shuffling things around.

 

While I was admiring the entrance walls, which were covered in thin hand-painted leather, something that had belonged in her family since the 15th century- Chelsea had crawled under the dining room table and was pressing the servant's bell button. Jeanette came down from the hallway, where the kitchen was located, whipping her hands on her apron she smiled, "Oh little one what is your desire?"

 

Madame Lombard waved her finger, "Ca-va ça-va, I have found something to interest her." With that, she added, "Jeanette, we will take our tea in the salon." Picking up Chelsea, I followed her into another stunning room, were in the corner sat a harp that belonged to Marie-Antoinette. How was I going to manage my baby from touching that, plus sip my tea lady-like?

 

"Come here Chérie," as she placed a shoebox with wine stoppers on the rug, "look at these shiny things." All I could think about was how someone's tiny hands were going to have a field day tossing them about. Concerned I questioned whether it was a good idea to let Chelsea play with the crystal wine bottle stoppers? Without lifting her head up she reasoned, "Bien sur, not a problem, these things are old and the bottles are long gone. Anyway, Chelsea is "sage," she won't throw them." Next to the shoebox of stoppers, Madame Lombard put a silver wine bottle holder.

 

While we sat on the signed Louis 15th armchairs sipping tea, Chelsea seemed to be under a spell. Like a Princess, she was picking up the stoppers as if they were precious jewels and placing them into the wine bottle holder.

 

At the end of the afternoon, with kisses given to both sides of our cheeks, Madame Lombard had Jeanette gather up the stoppers in a "sac plastic," for Chelsea to take home.

 

Brocante Items on Instagram

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little sweet things collected over time and now going across the sea to new homes. I have been posting brocante finds on Instagram. If you are interested in seeing more please follow me under my name. 

 

Smelling the Roses

 

 

Smelling the roses wasn’t a hit.

They do not have a scent that is why!

wink,

 

Enjoying Every Moment

 

Sipping and savoring these sacred summer day moments  

without gulping down the deliciousness.

Just like That...One Month Old Today

 

 

of course, I knew that a baby would change everything. I thought I knew what everything meant.

I knew my heart would expand that memories of my childhood and my daughter's childhood would all come back to me.

That I would see life full circle a thanksgiving rich with memories of my grandparents, my parents, my brothers,

aunts, uncles, cousins, son, daughter, and husband.

                                  I knew that I would want to hold Gabriel endless hours from the first rays to the last flicker of light,

and that I would be able to be better than I am because the path would be easier to follow with innocent love leading me.

                                                                      But somehow somewhere a door opened a passage unfolded

                                      As if my feet become wings light filled every single cell in my body -- in my heart -- oh God my soul.

A baby that tiny little wonderment, that magical mystical baby...

Life has expanded beyond my imagination what was past, and the present and those tomorrows that I will never ever know

blended into something I never expected nor knew.

Let's just call it the Big Bang, a firework of indescribable love.

My Mother Says I am a Hoarder

 

 

 

 Hoarder:

"Compulsive hoarding, also known as hoarding disorder, is a behavioral pattern characterized by excessive acquisition of and an inability or unwillingness to discard large quantities of objects that cover the living areas of the home and cause significant distress or impairment."

 

Okay, I like stuff. No one ever called me a minimalist. Though my closet isn't full. My garden shed has more books than tools in it that is odd I admit. Decorating, creating "mis en scenes" I adore. But does that mean I am a hoarder? I don't buy plates anymore cause I have enough plates for a sit-down wedding for maybe 1000 guests mix and match that is. I am exaggerating. Does that make me a hoarder? I sell stuff. I give away plenty too. I am not possessive of most of the things I have. An empty space says to me, "Fill me."

Blank spaces or just pregnant spaces in the waiting.

 

 

 

 

Last year when my mom came to my daughter's wedding, she came into our home looked around, and with a deadpan face said, "Yep you are a haorder. You and your Godmother are alike."

My Godmother isn't a hoarder though she does have way more stuff than I do. Grant it she has been collecting longer than I have and has a much bigger house. Gulp. My mom likes stuff but she doesn't collect little bits and pieces. My mom goes big. I go all over.

I am not a hoarder I do not have trails nor pathways in my house.

 

 

 

Admittingly, broken things do not bother me. My son Sacha use to say, "We have chairs you cannot sit on, mirrors you cannot see yourself in, Lights that are well worthless for brightening a space. But hey it looks good."

Practical isn't a fan of beauty.

Pretty is, practical does.

 

 

 

So I have a few antique linen towels.

I use them. Well, not these because they aren't easy to get to.

But that doesn't mean I am the H word, mom!

I know she was teasing sort of.

 

 

 

Collections speak, kind of like a large family, it fascinates.

Right?

My mom pointed to my domes, "Hoarder," she proclaimed. But I think she wanted some so that is why she said that. I have six domes left I sold plenty. Though you know if I had a bigger house well I would have kept them.

Having collections doesn't make a person a hoarder or does it?

 

 

Cutting boards, old ironstone, straw baskets, and trays. 

I guess the only way to stop is to stop going to the brocantes.

Gabriel my newborn grandson has helped with that. As long as he is here there is no other place I would rather be.

If I am a hoarder I am a happy one.

A Day of Newness

 

 

Early in the morning soon after Baby Gabriel breastfed I took him for a walk in his stroller to give Chelsea a needed few hours of rest.

As soon as I stepped outside my senses turned towards imagining life through the senses of Gabriel.

We walked along the babbling river with the century-old Plantain branches creating a canopy overhead. The filtered light danced around Gabriel's plump face as the breeze waved through the leaves and brought a scent of oleander, pine, and fig. Taking each moment in as if it were the first time letting my senses burst with newness as I experienced the smell, sight, sound... as I imagined Gabriel was doing. Whispering the names to him of what our senses were encountering...

Water cool on this summer day hear it running to the sea.

Figs recently gathered but the scent remains.

The gravel underfoot makes a crackling sound.

The warmth of the sun rays.

Dogs barking, morning birds singing, a symphony of cigales. I ran your fingers over leaves, bark, water from the fountain on the square, rosemary and a remaining rose. Butterflies gracefully flew around. Magical mystical Sacred day if only every day I would be aware of its gift.

The world was a prayer of life, even the air was tasted in gulps and gentleness.

 

 

 

 

Love is ...

 

One of you wrote in regard to having children:

"You love your child, you fall in love with grandchildren"

Oh how true.

I am head over in heels falling in love deeper and deeper I go.

Gabriel three weeks.

 

Dancing on the Table

We were dancing to Bob Marley because Martin sings his songs to the baby. As Martin had to work in Paris these last two days we played Bob Marley for the baby, but it wasn't quite the same. Chelsea took Gabriel upstairs to breastfeed and Sacha and I stayed downstairs and danced. Yes, I am standing on the coffee table because Chelsea and Sacha are much taller than me and I wanted to feel taller. 

Happy feels so good. Having everyone home (Martin returns tomorrow.) is the best gift ever. I think I will be dancing for some time to come. 

 

xxx

 

 

 

Sacha Meets Gabriel

What Do I Look For at the Brocante

 

 

When asked what I look for at the brocante I answer I look for anything that speaks to me, I look for things for our home, to sell, to give, to understand, to admire...

Medals.

But the thing is once I start looking at one thing it leads to another and then another and then it takes me on a quest to find one older or more unusual, which leads to stories... it just doesn't stop. The deeper I go into the brocante the more curious I become and the more I discover.

It is a wonderland of a rabbit hole to fall into.

 

 

Like a key that opens up a drawer to a chest where linens have rested and in between the linens are pressed flowers and postcards, stamps, letters received or never sent, and candy boxes with buttons, and cards, then there are books, and unfinished sewing projects with the thread and needle still attached, and a needle case, or a notebook with sketches, and a box of pastels.

 

 

 

An unsigned painting with tears in just the right places that at first glance it looks like insects.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and broken element like pieces of a puzzle, "Where did this come from and where does it belong?" 

 

 

 

 

 

The brocante feeds my soul: Teaches me about history, art, faith, creativity and the beauty of everyday life and living.

What do I look for at the brocante?

EVERYTHING.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Drinking in Life

 

Holding you in my arms the clock ticks 

Nights days blend into a motionless dance

sung by church bells, the nightingale, the owl, the lark

a stream of sunlight moves slowly across the floor.

Sacredness interlaces us in

a bond of undeniable rhythm. 

As my newborn drinks in life.

 

 

Real Blooms

Real Blooms

after years

without much

perhaps a stitch or pin to a hat or collar

perfuming imagination

no need for water or pruning, nor sunshine

real blooms 

the unfolding beauty of age.

 

And They Danced...

 

 

July 6th, 2018

One Year Anniversary.

How they danced and are dancing still.

A year later the two have made one.

 

 

This was one of my favorite moments, Chelsea and Martin entered the reception and instantly started dancing which lead to everyone dancing before dinner. Martin twirled Chelsea around in a circle of sparklers.

Magical.

 

What a glorious love story may it never end.

 

 

Between Heaven and Earth

 

 

 

There is a place between heaven and earth,

between the mind and the heart, 

between ourselves and each other, a sacred place where the imagination grows,

where the spirit expands,

where life fully lives.

The door is continuously open for any of us to enter,

the risk is only in falling deeply in love and not returning the same as we were.

Vulnerable to love to the course it leads.

 

Happiness Overload

 

 

 

 

Antiquing. Baby. Antiquing. Baby.

Plus Yann, Chelsea, Sacha (who arrives in a few days for a month), and Martin not in that order as there isn’t a list of who is first just a full heart that is overflowing. A full circle.

Chelsea is doing fine, breastfeeding which anyone who has breastfed knows it is a constant giving day and night for the first six weeks, then usually a pattern comes into play. I am so happy they are staying here with us for two months. I need to put myself in a routine... I forgot how time-consuming cooking three meals a day for a family was. Yann and I can eat tomatoes and mozzarella, or roasted vegetables, or melon all summer long. But that doesn't cut it for a nursing mother and a strapping young man. Thankfully, the grocery store is around the corner on foot.

Chelsea and Martin are the parents every child dreams about. Loving, generous with their affection, actions, words, doting, attentive and happy. At first they constantly wanted to help me help them, but finally, they have accepted to let me care for them so they can care for each other.

Chelsea and Martin have rented their apartment to one of my favorite blog readers, I am so thankful. It will make the month easier for them without having to pay rent. They are looking for someone to rent their apartment in Paris for the last two weeks in July if you know anyone please let me know (two bedrooms, in the 1Oth, with an elevator, 750 euros for two weeks.)

And the laundry is so cute, all those little baby clothes, sheets, diapers, wash clothes...

I volunteered for this role and take it seriously, my mother came to France and cared for us, she did everything so I could bond and be with Chelsea baby. I am so happy I can do the same for them.

Full circle.

Happy.

Grateful beyond words.

 

 

 

 

Summertime and the Living is Easy

Motherhood

Lavender Fields Forever

Cathy came on the French la Vie with one thing high on her Bucket List to see the lavender fields.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Such a magical day. Full of purple and perfumed air.

Field after field of rolling humps of lavender in neat rows.

A day well spent and a sweet farewell to a wonderful week spent with

the French la Vie.

I will miss you.

 

 

French La Vie Journey Surviving the Heat

 

 

The colors of Provence. Enchanting. Today I was reminded why I love this country, this landscape, this life... beauty in many ways surrounds me.

I am grateful.

What a pleasure to share what I see and live with those who come on the French la Vie journeys with me. Today we went to two brocantes, then went to Cassis where we took a boat ride out to sea we were revived by the air and water! Later Yann took our guest on a motorcycle ride in the Saint Baume mountains. Tomorrow we are going to visit the lavender fields by Valensole. 

Yes, the heat has been daunting but what has kept us going has been the good things: Friends, lovely meals, the brocante, the landscape, visiting villages, stepping into churches and dipping our hands into fountains and tons of laughter over silly antics by Yann.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Weeks Old

French la Vie Summer Outings

 

 

Oh, Provence who knew you could show my hometown Willows in the Sacramento Valley

how to hit 113 degrees!!

My God for once I had to say, “It was Hot!”

Thank goodness for air conditioned cars, ice-cream, plantain trees, good friends and the desire to seize the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

French la Vie Summer Outings

 

 

Oh, Provence who knew you could show my hometown Willows in the Sacramento Valley

how to hit 113 degrees!!

My God for once I had to say, “It was Hot!”

Thank goodness for air conditioned cars, ice-cream, plantain trees, good friends and the desire to seize the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Lovely Day in the Heatwave

 

Even the incredible heat wave that we are experiencing in Provence

could not alter our mood or mission. Brocanting we did go with the French la Vie.

We found what we were hoping for, no rush nor stress we dipped our hands in the nearby fountains

wet our faces and necks and kept on going.

We stopped by my friend Kristin's home for a late afternoon snack and sat in her clever, charming and COOL air condition house!

We are spoiled by the luxury of having friends, happiness, passion, and places to get out of the heat.

Each French la Vie I am so happy to show what I have curated over thirty years of living here and moreso to share the France I love.

 

 

 

tomorrow it is supposed

to be 108 F

Brocante to the rescue:

Or maybe rose by a pool.

 

 

I adore the charm of my clever friend Kristin and her magical wand of creative ideas.

 

 

Wish List on the French la Vie

 

While in Cassis we stopped before lunch to have a drink. Even in this heat, we are going strong nothing can dampen the spirits of those who love the brocante and antiquing. Cathy had a wish list: small oil paintings, santons, Sicard's cigale or Cicadidae, pottery ... we found it all today.

We tried Pastis because you kinda have to if you are in Provence during the summer. It wasn't a hit, so Kir Royal to the recuse.

 

 

 

Small paintings found at the brocante today.

The details of the boating scene captured my eye. Even the smallest brocante has a treasure wanting to be found.

 

 

Rodger in Cassis the King of Pastis wanted to have his picture taken with us.

If you are in Cassis stop by his Pastis Bar, where there is the largest selection of Pastis in Provence. Plus a bigger must is to try his wife Andre's tapas Courgette cake, plus tatin tomato are two of my favorites.

 

 

These Santons are originally from the Luberon and from the 1950s. I love their rosy cheeks they are made out of plaster and not traditional clay. Ultra charming.

 

 

 

 

 

We stopped by the historical Sicard in Aubagne to buy their latest version of the cigale, as luck would have it they were setting up the next kiln and we were invited to watch. They said that in this heat with the oven at 1000 degrees it is nearly unbearable to work. Nearly?

 

 

We are off to a good start. How happy I am that each group brings more joy and friendship to my life, I am thankful for such a wonderful community that is gathered on my blog. Brocante glue is a mighty sweet thing.

 

 

Wish List on the French la Vie

 

While in Cassis we stopped before lunch to have a drink. Even in this heat, we are going strong nothing can dampen the spirits of those who love the brocante and antiquing. Cathy had a wish list: small oil paintings, santons, Sicard's cigale or Cicadidae, pottery ... we found it all today.

We tried Pastis because you kinda have to if you are in Provence during the summer. It wasn't a hit, so Kir Royal to the recuse.

 

 

 

Small paintings found at the brocante today.

The details of the boating scene captured my eye. Even the smallest brocante has a treasure wanting to be found.

 

 

Rodger in Cassis the King of Pastis wanted to have his picture taken with us.

If you are in Cassis stop by his Pastis Bar, where there is the largest selection of Pastis in Provence. Plus a bigger must is to try his wife Andre's tapas Courgette cake, plus tatin tomato are two of my favorites.

 

 

These Santons are originally from the Luberon and from the 1950s. I love their rosy cheeks they are made out of plaster and not traditional clay. Ultra charming.

 

 

 

 

 

We stopped by the historical Sicard in Aubagne to buy their latest version of the cigale, as luck would have it they were setting up the next kiln and we were invited to watch. They said that in this heat with the oven at 1000 degrees it is nearly unbearable to work. Nearly?

 

 

We are off to a good start. How happy I am that each group brings more joy and friendship to my life, I am thankful for such a wonderful community that is gathered on my blog. Brocante glue is a mighty sweet thing.

 

 

Santa Claus

 

Today started the French la Vie. We are off to a wonderful adventure as you know brocanting is certainly on top of the list, and going to explore the lavender fields in Valensole.

Barely had we started the French la Vie French Husband found a baby’s rocking horse. I think he wants to be the Sugar Daddy of sorts. He wants the baby to think he is best. Actually, he is giving Santa a run for his money,

 

 

 

A Letter from my Mom?

 

 

 

My mom does not write letters, so that was the first clue that something was off, then there was the handwriting which definitely wasn't my mother's. Noticing that it wasn't her handwriting reminded me that when we see the handwriting of those we care for it is a sign of their evident presence, a sense of knowing someone as if their handwriting was a handshake or a hug, it is that familiar and comforting. Anyway, that letter was not from my mother, but a very funny joke from my two nieces, Marie and Molly. They sent letters with the same humor to my son and their uncle my brother Marty. Each letter is a spin-off of each of our relationships with our mother. Molly and Marie have done such a good job with these letters that I think the two of them should write a book of letters from my mom.

 

 

They even added flowers from my mom's garden!

My brother Marty's letter jokes about not making his favorite lemon pie anymore.

As if these letters aren't sweetly fun in their own right when I read my out loud to Yann was puzzled, as he thought 

my mom had written it. He questioned it, "You mom is going to learn a new language?"

It took some explaining for him to understand that it was a joke from my nieces. 

"Why," he asked, "Are you sure it is not real?"

I think I will get a ride out of this one for some time.

 

 

 

 

Sweet Happiness

One Week Old

 

One week ago today Chelsea gave birth to Gabriel.

I was honored to be at the birth which was at a natural clinic in Paris.

 

Gabriel, you came with one glorious push, sliding into this world with a ribbon around your neck and under your arms

that slide off the instant you were born.

 

Your mother who was on her knees scooped you up and held you close saying over and over again in the gentlest voice,

"I love you, I love you, I love you..."

Martin held both of you and washed you with his joy.

For the next couple of hours, your parents cradled you in their bed flesh touching flesh, coo-ing to you in music that is made for love birds.

 

Earlier on when your journey first started I asked the heavens that the prayers, thoughts, wishes, words, notes, expression of love sent to you from family, friends, and acquaintance surround you and bring you safely to our side.

I thank all of you for your many loving notes I felt your presence during Gabriel's birth. 

One week. One glorious week that felt like a lifetime and a nanosecond combined.

 

I am returning to Provence to led a French la Vie Group. It was planned before I knew Chelsea was pregnant. After which Chelsea and Co. will be staying with us for two months. Sacha comes for a holiday July 9th. It is going to be the best summer ever!

When the Youngest and the Oldest at Last Meet

Love Story

 

 

Happy Birthday Sacha

Happy 27th Birthday, Sacha! 

 

(In French to say, Uncle, it is Ton. But just like some say Auntie for Aunt, Ton-Ton is for Ton.)

 

 

 

Love Does Such Things

 

Baby Gabriel

 

I asked if I could take him home.

Need I say the answer?

My friend Lizzie said that when a baby comes into one's life it is as if one is

watching Baby TV 24/7 because you cannot take your eyes off of them.

My new favorite show "Gabriel". I will be posting baby overload.

I never want to leave.

Beautiful Boy Gabriel

 

 

 

Gabriel was born on June 15th in the morning.

He weighed 9 pounds.

Chelsea, Martin and the baby shared a beautiful natural birth

and are somewhere deep in an enchanted land of love.

 

 

 

 

Overflowing Joy

 

 

So so much more to share.

overflowing Joy.

We are in that dream state between 

heaven and earth.

The baby has arrived.

Details will follow. 

 

Thank you for every thought, prayer, wish, dream, hope that you sent.

Your love and friendship were felt.

 

Baby??

 

Soon. Chelsea feels good and is happy. Anticipating with joy, not anxious nor worried. Such a special time to wake up wondering, « Is today the day? « Then being curious throughout the day and night with giddy excitement. I haven’t had this feeling since I was a child at Christmas.

Divine Touch

 

The Mystery 

full ripe womb

sacred treasure

seen 

but unseen

felt but not held

visible but

invisible

sacred wonder

loved and loved and loved

now and forever

 

(no sign we are happily waiting)

Anticipation

waiting

for the expected

baby with 

anticipating joy.

baby to be

I see you wiggling

tomorrow maybe?

or next week's full moon?

the kitchen clock tics

Chelsea grows 

all is good

in this moment of elevated 

dreams to come true.

 

 

The House Next Door