French la Vie

After a Lifetime of Uncomfortable Antique Sofas

 

We finally or I should say I finally gave in to comfort and pleasing my children and son in law.

Gabriel calls the new sofa a boat “bateau” and he has it right. 
We can sail away in it!

 

Unafraid

 

 

Evening falls,

the sky grows dark,

the moon comes up,

and stars bloom like flowers.

 a constant change

earth and sky

subtle and strong

the water flows

 

Down below in the silence,

in the stillness, in the darkness...

the garden grows unafraid.

Thoughts Are Energy Spend Them Well

 

 
Look who climbed up on the chair.

 

In Lieu of Flowers

 

In lieu of flowers, 

I would wish for you to flower. 

I would wish for you to blossom, to open, to be beautiful…

I would wish for you to align your soul,

for a time, with flowers.

~ Shawna Lemay

My Brother Marty

A lovely video about my brother Marty.

 

Yesterday Marty's body was laid to rest

My family had a private mass in our hometown

Sacha was one of the pallbearers along with other nieces and nephews.

A graveside service followed and cousins and friends were there.

My cousin Julie (Sacha's Godmother) had me on video so I could be there in spirit.

 

You can imagine our sadness, the grief, the tender goodbye, and also the love that holds us.

 

 

Angel Wings Disguised as Twigs

At first glance I thought the oil painting I found at the brocante  was of an Angel sleeping but after a closer look it is of a young man who has taken off his clothes for a swim, and later resting while using a bunch of twigs as a head rest which at a glance look like Angel wings.

Or maybe it is an earthly Angel in disguise. 

 

 

Serotonin Day

A poem by my friend Claire.

Follow her in Instagram 

clairedelune96

 

Cranberry and Spinach Pie

When an American living in France 

makes Spanakopita

in honor of her Greek friend

Annie. Though I never saw her make it

and that doesn't matter.

 

----------------

 

 

 

Two farm eggs

feta cheese

sliced green onions

dried cranberries

chopped walnuts

fresh spinach

garlic

creme fraiche

salt and pepper to taste.

In a cast-iron skillet lightly brown the chopped walnuts dried cranberries garlic  

When lightly browned put aside then in the hot skillet add the fresh spinach with a hint of olive oil or white wine

when slightly wilted remove

and add it to the big bowl that has the walnuts, cranberries, and garlic

stir it up gently and thoroughly

toss in the crumbled feta cheese, green onions, creme fraiche, and fresh eggs stir it up 

butter up a baking dish

layer the phyllo dough remember to rub olive oil on each layer 

after several layers add the spinach feta cranberry mixture to the center

fold and tuck each phyllo layer around the mixture.

bake at 350

I would show you a picture but we ate it before I thought to take a photo.

 

The First Iris

 

 

Faithful as winter comes to an end in Cassis

the first Irises bloom.

Cheering whoever listens, "Spring is near!"

Oh at last.

This winter with its dreadful notes left behind...

Spring comes!

How I long for you!

 

 

The Silver Dark Sea

 

 

 

The Silver Dark Sea

 

"We carry them with us...

We breathe for them,

sing for them,

soak up stories they cannot hear.

We think,

“They would have loved this...”

And we smile for them, on their behalf.

And someday,

after mastering the winds,

the waves,

the tides and gravity,

we shall harness for God

the energies of love.

And then for the second time in the history of the world,

humans will have discovered fire."

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

 

(Thank you Patrizia for sending me this piece.)

Photos of Yesteryear to Present Day

 

The face of time. Old photos. Stories told, untold, retold...

then, now and then over again.

Our stories play out, we each have a part.

Digging at the brocante photos unearthed 

in a soap tin held together with a rubber band.

The soap tin had a tag it said:

"Photographs from the Canebiere, Marseilles"

 

Photo of a mother and child:

Marie-Francoise and bebe Mathilde.

 

Photo of a young girl:

Helene with the latest hairstyle

against her parent's wishes.

 

 

 

 

Photo of a young man: Was he the father of Mathilde?

or the husband of Marie-Francoise?

Maybe he was Helene's brother Jean-Pierre?

I don't know, only his name is written on the back.

 

 

 

Photo: Young man with a stiff collar and a tie,

Jacques.

 

 

 

Photo: A boy in a sailor outfit missing his white tie.

Blue eyes, ruby lips, straight bangs...

his name: Andre-Michel.

Do you know that most French names have a masculine and feminine pronunciation?

Andrea-Michelle.

 

 

 

Photo: Girl with a monogram on her dress.

dp 

Delphine Perrin

Is she Jacques' sister?

Are they facing opposite so that in a photo frame they could be facing one another?

 

 

 

Photo: Girlfriends.

Lise and Cosette with a hint of a smile.

Cosette is wearing a pinafore.

 

 

Photo: Serious with earrings.

Was it a rough day?

 Marie-Louise doesn't say.

 

 

Old photos found in a soap tin.

 

 

Photo: Young woman on a boat.

 Estelle, with yellow espadrilles.

Taken by her Father Henri one summer at the Vieux-Porte in Marseille.

 

Photo: Young woman with a yellow purse.

Chelsea. Taken by Martin in Mexico.

 

Old photos capturing a brief moment in time to be replayed over and over again

in another moment in time.

 

Who are you, can you share your image in words?

 

Photo: Middle-Aged Woman

Grieving her brother.

Never wears yellow.

Prefers black --

It is a good thing she doesn't wear yellow or she would be mistaken for a bumblebee.

The oldest child, only daughter, four brothers  - Missing one.

 

--------

 

 

If you want to use this example or your own:

Name:

Age

Present-day feeling.

A color you would never wear.

Favorite color.

other...

Gabriel 20 Months

Dumpster Diving Glory

What I Saw at the French Antique Auction

 

 

 

What I saw at the French Antique auction online

was so beautiful that I felt maybe it was the Louvre

secretly selling off pieces.

Of course, that wasn't true

nevertheless the quality

and the masterpieces of the antiques on auction

were literally stunning and oftentimes unbelievable 

that they were being auctioned and yet not scooped up by a museum.

I could not afford anything though the pleasure was worth every minute spend 

being gobsmacked.

Here are a few pieces of art that for one reason or another 

I thought to post... literally a few grains of sand!

Every day in France there are 

over 50,000 pieces auctioned off.

Where does this stuff keep coming from?

Awestruck again by history, beauty and art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Goes Around

 

 

 

 

Gabriel received his third vaccine.

He didn't take it well and threw up a day or two later.

A few days later his parents were worshiping the porcelain god.

Since I have had a horrible cold to the point I 

was convinced I had covid (two PCR tests) but do not I could not help them.

Yann went to babysit Gabriel. 

Two days later Yann was wiped-out vomiting.

Three days later it hit me,

I woke up freezing thinking I was hungry

but soon realized that feeling wasn't hunger

it was the rumbling of the monster about to unleash.

Today I understand the need to rest.

Gabriel and his parents went to Martin's parent's house 

since Chelsea and Martin have been working from home

(due to covid for almost a year now) they need childcare.

Martin's mom is now fighting the monster.

24 hour cleanout.

So far only Martin's dad has been lucky not to have it.

 

 

 

Valentine Love

via Beverly Coulson Mason’s Facebook.

 

 

 

Daily Walk

 

 

 

 

Their wooly coats

worn in the chilly Provencal air

as they feast on the first green sprouts

while almonds trees bloom

My daily walk reminds me that life continues 

season by season

step by step

sunlight to moonlight

holy and pure.

---

Thank you again and again.

Merci Beaucoup

 

Merci 

I am in awe of your kindness and thoughtfulness

what an abundance I have to lean on.

I feel guilty for not responding to each of you personally!

My mother said the same thing the other day. She has received many cards, letters, flowers,

food, visit, and acts of kindness... she is overwhelmed by the love and support.

On the phone, my mom said, "How am I ever going to be able to write everyone?

I have been keeping a list but it is becoming longer and longer 

and I haven't even started to respond!"

 

I have felt that weight too of wanting to respond to each of you and yet not being able to...

it is as if each acknowledgment, each thank you reminds me of the reality so very present.

 

That is not to say we are ungrateful,

because the love shown in so many ways helps us carry our sadness.

We are grateful.

 

But the energy it

takes to respond isn't there. It will be, but it isn't now.

I talked about this to my mom. Saying, everyone understands.

Nobody expects anything from you.

We all know it is harder to receive than to give.

 Grief takes energy and swallows up our everyday thoughts

and rarely gives a space to be or do as we would usually.

 

 

Grief is a bag of mixed emotions Kubler-Ross

explains it well

 

 

 

 

When I lived in the monastery (19 to 22 years of age) I was fortunate that it was a retreat house

on depth psychology, spiritual direction, seeing fairytales, myth, and scripture intertwined and yet separate.

Amazing people came to visit and share their experiences I was a sponge happily soaking

in such new ideas, wisdom, and the freedom to question.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's books had a tremendous impact on me.

Grief takes time and while it does it heals.

I often say to others who are grieving,

"Be gentle with yourself. No feeling is a bad feeling. Allow yourself time to sit still, weep and be."

 

Thank you for every ounce of love and goodness you have shared with me!

Every poem, tear, candle, thought, prayer, quote, card, comment...

I am grateful.

 

 

 

Somedays

 

somedays

grief grabs hold 

starring me down

like a chunk of gooey messy stuff

or like a chunk of sadness leaning on me

Grief has a road map all its own.

There is little to do but ride with it

even if it is unbearable.

 

No Hard Feelings

 

 

 

No Hard Feelings 

Avett Brothers

 

I have listened to this song nearly every day since I heard about my brother's cancer

the words often make me cry

tears of so many reasons-

so truly true of grief and letting go and letting be and being ready.

The song asks, "Will I be ready?"

My brother was due to his circumstance.

He gave his hope and chance for a miracle healing, and when it wasn't to be

he prepared himself and his family

as best as one can.

His last words to me were,

"... be with Gabriel, he needs you, take care of him."

He knew I babysit Gabriel a few days a week and he said,.." you do not need to come home...

you were here when we needed you most, you kept mom safe and I didn't need to worry 

because I knew you were there."

____

 

"When my body won't hold me anymore
And it finally lets me free
Will I be ready?

When my feet won't walk another mile?
And my lips give their last kiss goodbye?
Will my hands be steady when I lay down my fears, my hopes, and my doubts?
The rings on my fingers, and the keys to my house
With no hard feelings?

 

When the sun hangs low in the west
And the line in my chest won't be kept held at bay any longer
When the jealousy fades away
And it's ash and dust for casual lust
And it's just hallelujah

And love in thoughts and love in the words
Love in the songs they sing in the church
And no hard feelings

Lord knows they haven't done much good for anyone
Kept me afraid and cold
With so much to have and hold
Mmm, hmm

 

When my body won't hold me anymore
And it finally lets me free
Where will I go?
Will the trade winds take me south through Georgia grain?
Or tropical rain?
Or snow from the heavens?

Will I join with the ocean blue?
Or run into a savior true?
And shake hands laughing
And walk through the night, straight to the light
Holding the love I've known in my life
And no hard feelings

 

Lord knows they haven't done much good for anyone
Kept me afraid and cold
With so much to have and hold

Under the curving sky
I'm finally learning why
It matters for me and you
To say it and mean it too
For life and its lovely nest
And all of its ugliness
Good as it's been to me

I have no enemies
I have no enemies
I'll have no enemies
I have no enemies

 

Songwriters: Robert William Crawford / Scott Yancey Avett / Timothy Seth Avett

 

A Carousel

 

A child leads us the way 

to the daily doings of living

he depends on us

A carousel

one little ride at a time 

If you want to see a little video

of Gabriel riding this carousel I have

put it on my Facebook

just follow this link.

 

 

 

Distant View

Distant View

 

I see you

I feel the grass under my feet  and

 the sound of the leaves as the wind blows through them

you are not far away 

unless I try to hold you.

 

I believed I could go home whenever I wanted

that distance never felt faraway

until now with covid

I cannot go home.

 

But when I close my eyes

I see you

my heart beats so loudly 

as the waterfall splashes to my feet

where I stand still 

so faraway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Garden Grows Unafraid

 

softly evening comes

the sky grows dark

darker

the moon rises

with stars blooming like flowers

in an empty field.

 

 

Burning brightly

constantly changing

yet to the naked eye 

they remain the same

 

down below in the silence,

in the stillness,

in the darkness...

the garden grows unafraid

of the tiniest seed.

 

 

With No Place to Go

 

 

 

“Grief I’ve learned is really just love.

 

It’s all the love you want to give but cannot.

 

All of that unspent love

 

gathers up in the corner of your eyes,

 

the lump in your throat and the hollow part of your chest.

 

Grief is just loved with no place to go.”

 

 

—Author Unknown

 

 

 

Thank you Judy W. for sharing this with me.

Sirkka Turkka

 

There's a Finnish poem

that my friend Aija translated and sent to me:

 

"We call for him

but he doesn't turn around.

He's on his way to the forests of his childhood,

to the land of blue flowers and golden autumns

where the birds sing a different song."

 

Sirkka Turkka

 

Life’s Memories

 

(Photos of my Vavie Amaro with some of her 23 grandchildren

My brother Marty is standing by her side then and now)

 

life is one big full ride

with twists, turns, getting lost,

wild downhill rides

and some long straight boring roads.

 

Filled with every emotion often in the same day

silly things

how life continues when it feels like it isn't

one moment my brother dies, the next I am washing dishes, a friend calls I cry, then a 

a memory is shared and we laugh, I dry the dishes and go to bed.

wake up to my birthday.

 

Death comes and it doesn't seem real

 

a profound end

and life continues

 

but there it is and how it is

one full ride of everything all at once

 

Our days hold everything

and life simply challenges us to hang on

and live it

 

Hang on and live it 

My brother would want that.

To see us doing all those daily life things

L I V I N G 

 

Thank you for every message, email, FB message... the overwhelming amount of love

streaming in is such a beautiful gift thank you so much. God am I fortunate

to have such a community of brave beautiful clever loving friends that you are.

Thank you for holding my family and me during this long year.

 

 

 

Surrounded and Guided by Light

 

My brother Marty (60) went home this morning

He was surrounded by love and felt your prayers.

His family, brothers and mother were by his side.

 

 

His suffering is over. A heavenly host of love is welcoming him.

.... such sorrow, sadness and peace .

 

 

 

 

 

And here are some photos of the candles that you lit for him last night.

Thank you x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for your loving support.

My family thanks you as well. Marty often 

talked about the overwhelming

sense of prayer being said and felt.

He said it gave him strenght.

 

May your journey forward Marty be beautiful.

 

Flooded with Light

 

 

Last night friends and neighbors gather

outside of my brother's home

and held a candlelight vigil.

Please if you can light a candle

for my brother

that his path will be flooded with light.

Call My Name

When I was a child I had an incredible imagination and with that came terrific nightmares.

Many nights I woke up panic-filled, wide-eyed, my heart beating loud enough that any robber in the house could hear.

I was frightened to the point of feeling paralyzed.

My peace of mind came when I would call out to my parents.

The evening pattern went like this:

DAD! Are you awake?

Yes, I am.

Don't go to sleep until I go to sleep, okay?

Okay, I won't go to sleep until you're asleep.

MOM!

Yes?

Are you awake?

Yes, I'm awake.

Don't go to sleep until I go to sleep okay?

Okay, I won't go to sleep until you go to sleep.

DAD?

I'm here, go to sleep Corey. We won't go to sleep until you go to sleep.

Writing these words my eyes fill with tears. My parent's reassured me, night after night, they gave me their word faithfully and without ever seeming to be bothered by my need. They would respond with calm no matter when I called out. As if they never slept.

This went on until I was fourteen. Hard to believe that my parents did not crack.

I would fall asleep trusting my parents were there to protect me from harm.

(When I was fourteen a doctor told them to put a radio in my room with music on low. It did the trick.

I sleep through the night without calling for them.)

 

(The photo is of a 1900s plaster Paris statue of Saint Joseph holding the Christ Child. When I bought this statue I found a small note carefully tucked into one of the folds. The note was of long ago... a written prayer... pleading for God's mercy to protect their son during WWII. I refolded the note and trustingly placed it back.)

Marty, Mathew, Mark and Zane

Repost 2011

 

My brother's names remind me of the four gospels.. well almost.

Marty, Mathew, Mark, and Zane.

Marty's middle name is John.

And Zane's middle name is Louis which starts with a "L" like Luke.

Not that it counts.

But it does to me.

 

 

 

My oldest brother Marty is in red.

 

 

My four brothers are younger than me:

Marty

Mathew

Mark

and

Zane.

Trying to take a photo of these four guys is like trying to put a whale in a teacup.

I begged them.

Told them to stand outside the barn, around the broken old motorcycles.

They did. They drank and talked shop.

Finally, after trying to coax them for a photo, I gave up and took them when I could while they talked shop.

Finally some photos of those guys I love...

Marty, Mathew, Mark, and Zane.

The Harley Rolls

a few weeks ago my mom asked her grandson George

if he could clean up and get running my dad’s Harley that hasn’t run since my dad died over 12 years ago.

my godchild takes after my dad he rides like the wind and has self taught skills in mechanics. 

my mom said she wanted to see the Harley go down the lane again before she died.

though I think my mom really wanted to give us a gift

she wanted us to feel dad’s spirit in that Harley roar 

she knew 

we would see it too

knowing he is here waiting to give my brother

the ride of his life

 

Sacha went to Willows for the weekend

to be with family

to high five George

to take a ride down the lane

along the rice fields

and let that motor sing to us.

my mom is a genius in how she holds us 

leads us

and gives us courage

 

 

Messages Received and Want to Share

Acts of Love

 

thank you Brad Montague on Instagram.

 

 

 

Each Step Intentionally

Ram Dass 

 

 

“we’re all just walking each other home”

 

 

thank you Donna for reminding me of Ram Dass

 

 

Still

Miracles happen

but as we know they do not on command or desire

love is a daily living gracious miracle

And most of all healing

that does not die.

Thank you for your prayers 

the road ahead is soften by them.

 

 

 

 

On This Path

on this path

where steps are hesitate to walk

where the heart leaves a trail

where tears water it

and prayers scatter like dandelion seeds

heavy before the light

—-

my brother is at his home

my family is with him

my spirit too.

 

 

 

 

GodSpeed Sacha

 

Sacha is living in Seattle, has created a company with his friend Conrad 

check it out here

Godspeed on Instagram

Godspeed
PNW Camera Guys
You have the idea, we have the solution!
Gimbal - Drone - Vehicle
Editing - Color Grading - 3D prints

GODSPEEDCINE@GMAIL.COM

 

He is happy doing what he loves.

I am happy he is happy.

 

I Love This New Ruling in France

The Bravest Flower

 

Violets.

The bravest little flower

dares to bloom before spring announces itself

Receives a white winter coat and a heavy tiara of raindrop diamonds, 

Blooming purple with a note of glee.

Here I am,

such a tender little flower

reminding me of faithfulness against the odds, courage with grace.

 

The Hill We Climb

Amanda Gorman's 

     Full Inaugural Poem: 

 

The Hill We Climb:

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never ending shade?

The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.

We braved the belly of the beast

We’ve learned that quiet isn't always peace, and the norms and notions of what just is isn't always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn't broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn't mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired, we tried.

That we'll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid.

If we're to live up to our own time, 

then victory won't lie in the blade, 

but in all the bridges we've made.

That is the promise to glade.

The hill we climb, if only we dare, 

it's because being American is more than a pride we inherit.

It's the past we step into and how we repair it.

We've seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it, 

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith we trust, 

for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.

But within it we found the power to author a new chapter,

To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So, while once we asked how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, 

now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, 

but move to what shall be: 

a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain.

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children's birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

With every breath my bronze pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the west.

We will rise from the windswept north, east where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked south.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid.

The new dawn balloons as we free it.

For there is always light, 

if only we're brave enough to see it.

If only we're brave enough to be it.

 

 

 

 

Watching the Tide Coming in

Thank you again and again for your prayers for my brother Marty. It has been one year, a very long difficult year for him.

my brother says thank you 

that he feels prayers upon him.

Let it be a new tide coming in.

 

 

Ace of Hearts But No Free Ride

 

I spoke to my brother today

a few words that said so much

solemnly

how does one live with suffering 

pain

a terminal illness

one that challenges 

every cell and thought

without end-

is it

faith

courage

or

because living has its grip

and wondering why is

exhausting

and doesn't give you a free ride.

----

Your prayers are deeply appreciated

for peace of mind, heart, and body.

Something I Saw Online and Thought Was Funny

France

We wear masks it is not political.

everyone six years of age and older must.

Not just in shops. Masks are worn the second before you step outside.

Children wear masks all day in school.

You must use hand sanitizer before going into any shop.

Some masks make my glasses fog up, if I take my glasses off I cannot see. Lesson learned: check that glasses don't fog up

when wearing a new mask and before going outside.

Bars, cafes, restaurants have been closed since October.

If you thought finding a bathroom was hard to find when out and about in France let me tell you that now it is impossible.

There is a curfew for the entire country from 6 pm until 6 am. 

Cassis is empty.

Streets are silent.

I love walking at night but those nights are gone.

Vaccines are rolling out. My mom's appointment is this week.

When is yours?

I think ours will be in March or April.

 

 

 

What About Love

  

 

little by little

however we can

receiving and giving

big gulps

handfuls

whenever however

freely

i Gotta do it

make the step

stay focused on that love

absurd love

overdose

Without measure

 

Flowers for Peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daily Dose D300

 

I started a daily flower post due to the upheaval that Covid19

and the election was stirring and filling up my FB page with sadness.

 

I thought why not add a flower amongst it all to give breathing space.

 

Naively, I did not think I would be posting 300 days of flowers in a row.

 

There have been times I would have rather added my two cents instead of adding a flower.

There have been times that a flower seemed dim compared to the darkness that circled around.

 

I pray for brighter days, good health, and for peace in the community at large.

I will continue to post a flower a day as a mindful watch to remind myself

to focus on what is good, holy, and

to remind me to strive to be my better self.

 

Small gestures do have an impact, don't they?

I must remind myself daily that they do, that the small kindnesses 

are powerful tools for change.

 

Bundled up Yum-Yum

Many Pieces Picassiette

Picassiette Dresser was seen at a brocante a few years ago. 

"The name comes from the French Pique-Assiette, meaning “one who eats from others’ plates, or one who steals other plates”. This is a very loosely used translation of the French words. face Pique Assiette is a style of mosaic that incorporates pieces of broken ceramics—plates, dishes, cups, tiles — and other found objects into the design. The appeal and expressiveness of pique assiette lie in the ideas of lateral thinking, humor, recycling, and the significance of the found objects."

"This form of art is believed to have been originally introduced by Raymond Edouard Isadore, known as the “father of French pique assiette”. He discovered his bits of colored glass and pottery in the fields surrounding his house in Chartres, outside of Paris, and spent his life covering every surface of the inside and outside of the house and his garden area. He supplemented his shards with stuff from auctions, quarries, and the public dump. His home is a popular tourist attraction and is known as “Maison Picassiette” between 1938 and 1964. The monument he left behind is a house and garden covered with intricate mosaics of broken crockery, painting, and sculpture. Much has been written to try to explain why Raymonde Isidore, a middle-aged manual worker, produced such a beautiful, complicated, inspirational, and mystifying environment from the house he had built for his family. Perhaps what is amazing is not just that he chose to devote himself to his project, but that he achieved so much. The scale and richness are awe-inspiring.

In France La Maison Picassiette is set back from a modern urban street not far from the center of Chartres (50 miles – southwest of Paris). You reach it by walking down a narrow footpath. A small ticket booth and traditional French toilets have been added outside the front courtyard of the house. 30,000 visitors a year come to this place of wonder. The house is very modest in size, and is long and thin in shape, matching the dimensions of the plot it stands on. The doors and windows are all on the right-hand side, facing south. All the rage in the 1920s."  Via Monika of Myeropeantouch

 

These are photos of the dresser that I saw at the brocante...

I should have bought it simply because it was a one of a kind piece,

beautiful in its off-beat way and

a touchable storybook for Gabriel.

The battle of want and need is constant.

Cost, space, and practicality (such a mean little word for creativity) usually set my course.

Hence, the reason to sell is handy for my hobby.

But as you know if I bought everything that ever caught my eye

I would be eating dirt and leaves, and living outside as my home would be full.

God, if only I didn't have the brocante bug how easy housecleaning would be, and the urge to

want it all would be far from my thoughts.

Ah such trivial thoughts to play with on my blog and I need trivial thoughts these days.

 

Look how the grout it made to look like a vine twisting and connecting the pieces.

This dresser was not recently made. The collection of broken dishes is impressive!

 

The drawer pull is a small curtain ring from the 1900s.

Most of the broken plate pieces are from the 1860s to the turn of the century.

 

 

This piece makes me 

think how we are all connected

in our brokenness

held together by 

leaning into the

 strong vine of trust and forgiveness.

 

 

 

Habits to Aim For

Spring Cometh

with so much going on the year has started out

on an uneven path

my family in the States has had its fill

dark tragedy beyond measure 

The words I recently read capture the depths

such painful loss such great love

no words just holding sorrow and praying

that time brings healing.

we are this world waiting

for the universal symbolic spring

where that which is

good

holy

pure

life-giving

comes into focus

reassuring us that love never ends.

 

——

my brother starts chemotherapy again after several painful weeks in the hospital.

The other news I cannot share but I trust you understand and I pray for you who are battling your own dark corners.

 

 

There Will be Light

There will be light

there always is

even in unexpected places.