French la Vie

The French Language

 

EF - Live The Language - Paris from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.

2010

Becoming

 

 

 

Do you agree?

Home Town

 

My village

Mountains circle three-fourths of it-

A thousand-year-old church is at its center

The bells ring around the clock striking the hours.

This view is five minutes on foot from my door.

I have lived here longer than any other place...

over twenty years.

Tell me something about where you live?

 

 

PS

Nightbird's song and her message so powerful, eye-opening, and brave that she shared with grace.

I am glad you agreed and were moved as I was hearing her.

Yes, to this Song, Thank you NightBird

He Loves Boats

  

 

 

The Power of Now

French-ness

 

Sadly, the end of summer draws near, the warm weather is saying goodbye to Provence, it is the time of year where I grab a sweater in the morning and then again in the evening.

Our maison du village (house in the village) has stone walls that are over three feet thick. Our maison's wall butts up against the neighbor's maison's wall creating a six-foot-thick stone wall. Insulation at its finest: Cool interior in the summer, holds heat in during the winter.

Our home is a mere four hundred years old... and yes most French household keys do look like this.

 

 

 

 

The bakeries and pastries shop gift wrap their goods. Each item bought, whether a baguette, pain au chocolate, croissant which is wrapped in light paper then the ends on the paper or twisted or, if you buy a cake or other pastries the light paper is used but instead of the ends twisted they tie a box up with a ribbon or string. Then you can carry the package of baked goods from the loop that the shopkeepers make when they tie up the packages.

 

 

 

When in France do what the French do... your bread never goes on your plate, unless a small plate is offered. Otherwise, and in more cases than not, your bread goes on the table, on the left corner of your plate above the fork.

Also instead of biting into a piece of bread, the French tear a bitesize piece of bread and eat it that way. It is considered rude otherwise.

 

 

At a restaurant, tips are included in the bill.

You do not need to leave a tip. But you can leave a coin or two in appreciate

but it is not considered rude nor wrong if you do not.

 

 

 

Recently, at the brocante, my friend Mary remarked how impress she was at the variety of French linens and lace one could find. She asked if it was always like this or just the luck of the draw at this particular brocante?

I have said it many times and I'll keep on saying it... If France took out every piece of old linen, lace, dishtowel, bedsheet, and spread them out one by one, they could cover all of France, and have a massive slumber party, and extras for the next day.

Linens are plentiful.

If you want a thousand old nightshirts, or monogrammed bed sheets, or dish towels, or napkins, or lace, or nightgowns, or pantaloons, or table-clothes let me know and I'll have them to you within a week.

I would love to fulfill that bet, as long as I didn't have to pay for it. 

 

 

 

The French say babies come from cabbages, just like the Americans say babies come from the stork.

I say that when Chelsea came she was as big as cabbage and I wish the stork had delivered her to me.

 

 

 

In France, the French celebrate their 'name-day.' Every day of the year, a saint is remembered. If your name or middle name is the same name as a saint (or a name that has something to do with a saint) then your family and friends give you a gift and/or say happy feast day to you. It is as if each French person has two birthdays. The word for the 'name-day' is: "Le jour de fête".

List of saints names for each day can be found here.

We do not do this in our Franco/American household as I can barely keep track of the day of the week. Numbers and I are not dancing partners. Plus the fact that Chelsea and Corey are not on the saints day list. We gotta change that.. but being a saint is not my calling.

When I first arrived in France I asked my French Husband if I could have October 2nd as my feast day as it is the feast day of the Guardian Angels and I like angels, and Corey wasn't on the list. He said, "No it doesn't work like this." That was the beginning of what I call French Husband getting,

"French in my face."

"... it doesn't work like this."

Or as I like to say... in France their motto is:

Why be simple when it can be complicated.

 

 

Playing cards:

V

D

R

instead of:

J

Q

K

And if that is not enough, the keyboard is not at all the same as the American keyboard. For instance, the A is where the Q is.

Such a shocker. Now I can not type on an American keyboard. 

 

 

 

The scarf/shawl thing...

Yes, a French woman does do it best.

Even if it isn't tied at all.

They just got it, like Americans got big smiles. It is what it is and that is that.

 

  

 

Some Facts About France:

- Favorite sport: Soccer which is called football.

- Team sports are not played in school, nor are there cheerleaders, nor school proms.

- Did you know that Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty were penned by a French author?

-  The Eiffel Tower is as tall as a 70-floor building. My brothers Zane and Mat climbed to the top when they came to visit me years ago when I lived in Paris. I didn't climb to the top that day as I was seven months pregnant with the ten-pound sweet cabbage.

 

 

Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa is owned by the French government and is said to be the most valuable painting in the world. It was bought by French King Francis I in 1519.

In France, the Mona Lisa is called La Joconde.

Did you know that the Mona Lisa painting hung in King Francis I's bathroom?

And did you know that Mona Lisa has no eyebrows? The reason she doesn't isn't that Leonardo forgot, or ran out of paint. It is because it was fashionable in Florence to shave your eyebrows off. Beats plunking them!

 

 

 

There are some 40,000 châteaux in France.

 

 

 

Nîmes is the birthplace of blue jeans. The famous fabric was imported to California by Levi Strauss in order to make tough work trousers for gold diggers. Denim is another way of saying: “de Nîmes”.

 

 

 

The French consume wine with most meals.

 

 

The end.....

unless you have something you really want to know about France or the French. I'll try to answer your questions.

Gratitude

                            

Thank you little flowers that are under my feet, giving way without a cry, as I pass by. Thank you fresh air that fills my lungs restoring me without my constant awareness. Thank you light that shows me today and guides me towards tomorrow. Thank you heart for beating, for dancing within me, even when I do not hear your steady song. Thank you for eyes that look like the eyes of many ancestors ahead of me, whose shape I see in the faces I love, who show me I belong. Thank you arms that hold me tight, thank you word sorry for giving me the courage to try again and again. Thank you little flowers that reach to the sun after I walk by and scent my days with a fragrance of peace.

 

Thank you for your comments and messages, each one felt like a hug that I truly needed.

Photo: Tender little flowers in the field outside my childhood home.

My Cousin Julie

 

Our memories 

that go back to childhood and have continued throughout our lives

so many of them that some have slipped into that space that holds our roots,

waters the essences of who we are but no longer conjure up words to describe nor tell our story

they rest inside having become our foundation. 

That foundation is strong even if now when at times

 you cannot find your words

or your laughter ... oh that easy laugh of yours

or give me some buddha reflections

or talk about movies, music, or where you are going to travel to 

next, now that you have retired and after covid... even if when I told you Chelsea

was having another baby and you replied, "Another?" as if to say that you did not know there was another one

called Gabriel who you adore.

 

You are here but not here

in your body, mind, and heart

 oh that body that scuba diving, swimmer, boogie board body has changed.

 

You woke up from an aneurism, or did you?

Unbelievable to imagine so I don't

though tears fall writing this

damn do I miss everything about you.

You are here, I believe that you know what is happening and cannot express yourself as you would

and that might feel as if you are Johnny in Johnny Got His Gun.

That you are locked inside that beautiful mind of yours on the other side of the world in the depths of the sea.

Swim, Julie in the deep sea within you,

swim feel it as you did freeing and beautiful,

and I will stand here on the surface waiting for you to come up and grab your hand.

 

The Egyptian's perfume, bird feathers, the peaches on the tree, the wind in our hair as we raced down the lane,

that life we lived together is the connection that will not be broken.

You are here and I am with you 

as our Vavie said,

Spiritual love is more powerful than physical love.

So here we are in a physical world learning to lap into the spiritual realm.

 

 

 

 

Rose's Love Letter

 

 

In a box at the flea market,
Dusty and forgotten,
Memories slept closely to one another while 
silently dreaming of another place and time.

 

 

 

Once cherished.

Placed carefully.

Peeked at when the heart ached, or feelings surged.

Those secrets, those cherished bits of papers, the letters from someone she held close.

Memories pinned on love.

 

 

 

 

 

Years ago, when I was around nineteen years old, I had the opportunity to care for an elderly woman who was housebound.

A beautiful woman who had a house stuffed with beautiful old things. Nevertheless, her curtains were closed and her stacks of fine dishes stored in the basement.

The summer I took care of her, her housekeeper went away for a three-month holiday, I entered a wonder world of someone's life that would have a grand effect on my sensitivities. As soon as I walked in Rose told me, while barely looking up from her soap opera, "I have my meals served on a tray right here in front of the TV. Here is my checkbook and car keys, buy whatever you want to make for my meals, charge it to my account."

I looked around at her lovely old home, "Why?"

She said, "Why, What?"

"Why take your meals in front of the TV?" I asked, "Your home is beautiful!"

She shrugged, "It is easier."

I frowned, "For you or for me?"

She sadly replied, "For you since I do not move very well."

As I was nineteen full of vinegar and honey I marched on with my desire to bring her home alive, "We will have lunch on the terrace. So you can use that walker... come on, I'll help you get up, let's give it a try."

Rose grump-ed, "Oh no! It is okay right here in front of the TV. I don't want to bother you."

"If you want lunch you will have to meet me on the terrace." With that, I turned and walked towards the kitchen to prepare the meal.

 

The kitchen! Had floor-to-ceiling cupboards, a breakfast nook, and a basement FULL OF LOVELY THINGS! I ran out to the living room, nearly hyperventilating with excitement, "Rose, Oh my God, your home is a treasure box! We will have breakfast tomorrow in the breakfast nook, lunch every day outside in the garden by your roses, or on the terrace, and dinner in the dining room. Can I use any of the dishes you have? And the linens can I use them? And the teacups too? Can we have tea too? And, why do you have the curtains closed?"

I am afraid Rose didn't know what to do with a girl like me.

She moaned though I saw her hidden smile, "Use whatever you like. The curtains are closed because the windows are dirty,

and I don't want to move to eat my lunch."

"I'll wash the windows," I threw the curtains opened, "And we are NOT eating in front of the TV even if I have to drag you

to the dining room to prevent it, or throw the TV out."

Rose's eyes opened wide. Then she laughed out loud.

 

 

 

 

 

I drove her car.

Went to the grocery store every day.

Bought delicious treats, and made meals for Queen Rose.

We became fast friends.

She wrote poetry.

Her cupboards were delighted my brocante heart.

Tea was served in sweet teacups.

Meals on different china plates each day.

I stuffed the sugar bowls with sugar cubes, and the cookie jars with my mother's cookies, and her silver trays with cakes, flowers in vases, and lace clothes on all the tables and trays.

Rose sparkled, so did the windows... and her garden provided flowers galore for every inch of her home.

I loved every day with Rose. Her home was a wonderland.

 

 

Rose was a storyteller. She had lived a beautiful life yet was left crippled by an infected mosquito that left her tongue hanging out which made it difficult for her to talk... though once she got to know you she never let your ears grow cold.

One day she told me she had a secret love letter from a boyfriend who had died.

"I never could throw them away." She said, then continued, "If you go to bedroom, in the closet, there is a trunk, in the trunk there is a box...

can you bring it to me?"

I sprang to my feet with excitement and raced myself to the hidden love letter.

In the trunk, there was the letter.

Love poured out as she held it in her hands, "I haven't held it in years." she cried.

...

There are some things that tell a story better than words. Rose did not have to tell me why, who, how, or when

her tears spoke the volume that only a heart can hear.

           And so it was that I put the letter back in the box, back in the truck in the closet of her bedroom.

 

Fast forward ten years later, on my wedding day, I went to visit Rose with my newlywed husband Yann.

A few months later I was in France when I received the news that Rose died.

The first thing I remembered was her love letter tucked away in her bedroom closet. I do not know if anyone knew about it.

 

In a box at a flea market,
Dusty and forgotten.
Memories sleep closely to one another while 
silently dreaming of another place and time.

 

 

In a box at the flea market,
Dusty and forgotten,
Memories slept closely to one another while 
silently dreaming of another place and time.

 

 

 

Once cherished.

Placed carefully.

Peeked at when the heart ached, or feelings surged.

Those secrets, those cherished bits of papers, the letters from someone she held close.

Memories pinned on love.

 

 

 

 

 

Years ago, when I was around nineteen years old, I had the opportunity to care for an elderly woman who was housebound.

A beautiful woman who had a house stuffed with beautiful old things. Nevertheless, her curtains were closed and her stacks of fine dishes stored in the basement.

The summer I took care of her, her housekeeper went away for a three-month holiday, I entered a wonder world of someone's life that would have a grand effect on my sensitivities. As soon as I walked in Rose told me, while barely looking up from her soap opera, "I have my meals served on a tray right here in front of the TV. Here is my checkbook and car keys, buy whatever you want to make for my meals, charge it to my account."

I looked around at her lovely old home, "Why?"

She said, "Why, What?"

"Why take your meals in front of the TV?" I asked, "Your home is beautiful!"

She shrugged, "It is easier."

I frowned, "For you or for me?"

She sadly replied, "For you since I do not move very well."

As I was nineteen full of vinegar and honey I marched on with my desire to bring her home alive, "We will have lunch on the terrace. So you can use that walker... come on, I'll help you get up, let's give it a try."

Rose grump-ed, "Oh no! It is okay right here in front of the TV. I don't want to bother you."

"If you want lunch you will have to meet me on the terrace." With that, I turned and walked towards the kitchen to prepare the meal.

 

The kitchen! Had floor-to-ceiling cupboards, a breakfast nook, and a basement FULL OF LOVELY THINGS! I ran out to the living room, nearly hyperventilating with excitement, "Rose, Oh my God, your home is a treasure box! We will have breakfast tomorrow in the breakfast nook, lunch every day outside in the garden by your roses, or on the terrace, and dinner in the dining room. Can I use any of the dishes you have? And the linens can I use them? And the teacups too? Can we have tea too? And, why do you have the curtains closed?"

I am afraid Rose didn't know what to do with a girl like me.

She moaned though I saw her hidden smile, "Use whatever you like. The curtains are closed because the windows are dirty,

and I don't want to move to eat my lunch."

"I'll wash the windows," I threw the curtains opened, "And we are NOT eating in front of the TV even if I have to drag you

to the dining room to prevent it, or throw the TV out."

Rose's eyes opened wide. Then she laughed out loud.

 

 

 

 

 

I drove her car.

Went to the grocery store every day.

Bought delicious treats, and made meals for Queen Rose.

We became fast friends.

She wrote poetry.

Her cupboards were delighted my brocante heart.

Tea was served in sweet teacups.

Meals on different china plates each day.

I stuffed the sugar bowls with sugar cubes, and the cookie jars with my mother's cookies, and her silver trays with cakes, flowers in vases, and lace clothes on all the tables and trays.

Rose sparkled, so did the windows... and her garden provided flowers galore for every inch of her home.

I loved every day with Rose. Her home was a wonderland.

 

 

Rose was a storyteller. She had lived a beautiful life yet was left crippled by an infected mosquito that left her tongue hanging out which made it difficult for her to talk... though once she got to know you she never let your ears grow cold.

One day she told me she had a secret love letter from a boyfriend who had died.

"I never could throw them away." She said, then continued, "If you go to bedroom, in the closet, there is a trunk, in the trunk there is a box...

can you bring it to me?"

I sprang to my feet with excitement and raced myself to the hidden love letter.

In the trunk, there was the letter.

Love poured out as she held it in her hands, "I haven't held it in years." she cried.

...

There are some things that tell a story better than words. Rose did not have to tell me why, who, how, or when

her tears spoke the volume that only a heart can hear.

           And so it was that I put the letter back in the box, back in the truck in the closet of her bedroom.

 

Fast forward ten years later, on my wedding day, I went to visit Rose with my newlywed husband Yann.

A few months later I was in France when I received the news that Rose died.

The first thing I remembered was her love letter tucked away in her bedroom closet. I do not know if anyone knew about it.

 

In a box at a flea market,
Dusty and forgotten.
Memories sleep closely to one another while 
silently dreaming of another place and time.

As Weeds are Plentiful in Spring

My friend Annie makes weed salad.

She gathers the weeds in a field.

Weeds.

She eats them.

And tells me, "..they are good for you, high in vitamins."

Weeds that I walk on without giving them a thought.

Bitter weeds.

 

 

Weeds with names such as:

Salade de Chasseur, or Hunter's Greens in English.

Fenouil, or Fennel's first shots. Not to be confused with older, later in the season's more substantial growth.

Pissanli (I won't tell you what that sounds like in French... oh dang I have to tell you... It sounds like Peeing in the Bed!) better known as Dandelion! Bitter is what it is!

And the fourth cutie weed... Much to my shame, I forgot its name.

 

 

 

I went over to Annie's yesterday to cut her hair.

Entering her kitchen there was an overwhelming garlicky aroma.

Annie told me she had made her Weed Salad. I tasted her weeds before without seasoning, and it was not my favorite. Annie reassured me, "...I know you don't like my wild salad...."

"You mean weed salad?"

"Yes, but you should taste it with my vinaigrette!"

"Is garlic the main ingredient?"

She laughed, "Can you smell it?"

Annie collects the weeds, then trims, washes and seasons them:

Olive oil, salt, apple vinegar, and a fist full of crushed garlic.

I love garlic. I have heard the reason escargot tastes good is because of the butter and garlic. Weed salad falls in the same category. The garlic won me over.

Annie was happy that I am now a fan of her weed salad. I'll never walk on a weed again without my tastebuds watering

well, that is if garlic dressing is close behind.

 

(Repost Annie's birthday was a few days ago.)

 

Sweet Nature

 

 

So far they are enjoying the RV lifestyle they started in Bordeaux, went along the coast,

and now they are in the Pyrennes. Their one-week adventure is to test the waters

for a future longer trip. Yes, they both can work remotely, for the most part, they have been

since March 2020. Gabriel is a happy camper.

 

 

One Week Traveling in a RV

Chelsea and Co. 

rented a RV for a mini holiday.

Their buck list is to travel like this for a few months...

so they thought they would give their bucket list goal a test run on a mini holiday for one week and if they like it they will continue it another time in the future.

 

 

Memorial Day

 

 

Happy Sunday

More Photos of Gabriel

The sun was out two days in a row!

Chelsea sent me these photos of Babou.

 

oh how I could gobble him up no sugar added!

 

Gabriel loves boats.

Now there is a debate. There is a boat blanket that Chelsea says Barbara made and I say Jennifer made it... which one of you made a blanket covered with red white and blue boats?

 

When the Sunshines

 

 

 

When the sun finally peeked out in Paris declaring Spring, at last, had arrived

Chelsea took Gabriel to the park for several hours

and the only photos she took were these right before they stepped outside.

As it should be...

seize the moment - focusing on the moment at hand!

Gabriel looks so big, doesn't he? Soon he will be two!

Kindred Spirits

 

Thank you for responding by email and comments to my question.

Your response was exactly what I thought, the majority of you who read my blog do not follow Instagram nor FB. 

There is a community here that I adore and that keeps me sane. "What "sane" did she say?" Yes, you keep me sane.

The other day I was telling a friend, "... one of the reasons I blog is to help me see things in a light, a loving light which does not come naturally for me. First, I grump, I express without filter and process out loud which isn't always positive. Thankfully, my family knows this about me they trust the goodness which is underneath the grumpiness I can spew. But by the time I go to write my blog I have come to my senses, and am glad I have this path that heals and opens me to Love's way. I guess that is what journaling does for some of us, prayer on paper."

I regret that I cannot put videos here as easily as I can on Instagram hopefully one day that will change.

What I would like to know is there anything you do not know that you want to know? Any question that has been burning a hole in your pocket? Is any subject other than politics that you would like to hear my opinion? Someone asked me the other day what language do I speak to Gabriel. 

Yann speaks both, but usually French.

Chelsea speaks English to him.

Martin speaks French to him

Chelsea and Martin speak French to each other

Sacha and I speak English to Gabriel 

Gabriel speaks sounds a few words in English and more in French to us.

His English words include Cookie, Car, Corn, Yum and the name that he refers to himself,

"Babao"

And the group above all speak French to one another and English to me.

Makes for an interesting table conversation.

Chelsea and Sacha grew up with this so for them it is second nature as I hope it will be for Gabriel.

 

 

This lovely 1800s painting is for sale if you are interested 

send me an email for details.

 

A Question

After all these years of blogging, and with social media reaching new heights

I would like to know how do you follow me?

Do you follow me solely on my blog? Or do you follow me as well on Instagram and Facebook? 

 

Over a year ago I decided to post flowers just flowers on Facebook because there was so much heaviness and negativity with the upcoming

election and covid-19th. After a year I have kept posting flowers and rarely do I post anything else on Facebook.

On Instagram, I must admit it is the easiest to add videos and share information the platform is effortless. Though I try to keep it

focusing on antiques, brocantes...

Here on my blog, I feel an intimacy a more organic realness because many of you have become friends.

What I am searching for is to understand where my readers read me. I assume most of my readers are here on my blog.

But I realize that blogging has changed with other avenues in social media, its appeal in the social media arena is that it is more 

authentic but not necessarily an everyday check in.

I suppose I am asking myself where do I want to share my stories, family, photos, brocante bug... 

Where do you follow me?

 

 

Majestic Existence

 

 

Quote from 3 sources.

Be the One in the Crowd..,

Happy Day with Gabriel and Chelsea

Gabriel has a thing for boats

everything he sees he sees as a boat and why not

most the things would float like a cereal bowl for example.

One of his favorite things to do is to go to the Seine and watch the boats. Which we did. 

The Train Station

What surprises me the most

is the green overgrowth between the tracks.

With the lockdown lifted soon this won’t look the same.

Not Even Four Months...

No she is not having twins.

Chelsea was this size when she was

eight months pregnant with Gabriel.

But she is the same weight at four months

as she was with Gabriel at four months-

Chelsea says that she looks this big 

because she had burrito(s) for dinner.

Oh!

How big will she grow?

Chelsea asked, 

“What fruit is bigger than a watermelon?”

 

.

Drying Spring’s Blossoms

Drying Peonies the color doesn’t fade like roses.

What small wonder are you enjoying?

My Favorite Place to be in May

So Much in Love in Sharing

 

I never know if what I write will resound with others,

I wonder if I have gone too far, or not enough

the words spill out without filter

that is my impulsive side - I think out loud

One word tumbling over the other

release

letting off steam

It helps me and I am glad if it helps you too.

Thank you for your comments, for your messages, it sounds

like we are all in this together and that feels like a needed hug.

XXX

 

 

Thoughts About Living with Sadness

 

 

Thank you for sharing with me that some of you have felt the same way,

that the uneven paths life have brought us have been difficult to get around

and at times crawling has been the method.

 There it is the struggle, the overload of emotion, and the questions that age puts before us.

Annie uses to say, "It takes courage to get old." How the words haunt me.

She wasn't kidding she was in her nineties when she said that

ah the living ahead, the living now, the journey as is.

Sadness is like when I am walking alone and see a dog without a leash come running towards me

I immediately stop and cross my arms to my chest and say,

"I am scared of dogs!"

Usually, the dog owner's reply is verbatim, "Don't worry he is a nice dog."

What a non-sympathetic reply I want to yell back,

"I don't care if your dog is NICE, I am SCARED of ALL dogs!"

 

Some of us you see, are lucky to have grandchildren, family, friends, a beautiful life, a home...

all that we need, but that does not stop the pain, unfortunately,

it is not the wealth of any one thing that erases the sorrow we have

that does not make it all better,

it simply does not.

Grief has its own road map.

Family, friends, love surrounding us helps,  truly it does, but the loss, the longing, the sadness is real regardless.

 

With time, hopefully, each of us finds our way to carry happiness and sorrow in both hands,

in one heart, in our lives moment by moment.

 

I remember my mom a long while after my dad died she started to wear makeup again, fix her hair beautifully, started baking,

she re-grouped herself and started living I could see the difference, but I knew, oh I knew she was living for us,

through us and with us, she was putting her foot forward and walking in faith.

I said, "Mom I know you still are hurting, and I bet you feel guilty for living when dad is not,

and in some way,  you might feel like it is tarnishing his memory to be happy..." before I could finish tears fell from her eyes.

Letting be does not mean forgetting, it doesn't mean caring less.

It takes courage to grow without the one we love or the life we had.

It takes courage to live the life we have been given and do so gracefully.

 

My daughter's very good friend has a fiance that is a refugee from Africa. They met as she is an immigration lawyer who helps those whose lives have been torn apart. She was working in a community of refugees helping them to integrate into the community at large. Her fiance's story is beyond anything my life has ever experienced: Gut-wrenching, horrifying, unimaginable cruelty. When he came across the sea towards a better life he had nothing but his courage and faith, to lean on. Unfortunately, the boat that he was on split in two, barely was he able to hang on, he also reached out and held a pregnant woman who was drowning.

When at last a rescue team came, the woman he had been holding was dead, he could not let her go.

When my daughter heard his full story she said, "My life's woes are so very trivial compared to yours, I am sorry to even say I had a bad day. You must think we are so selfish, so unaware given what you have been through."

He smiled, "No not at all.

Each of us are on our own journey,

We do not know where it will take us or where it will end,

we are living our lives as it comes. 

It is not ours to compare suffering but to live the life we have."

 

 

Moment by moment with grace and courage.

 

 

Gratitude Above All

 

The rewards of living with a big extended family in a small town are plentiful,

I had fifty-five first cousins growing up, with the exception of eleven cousins the rest of us lived in the same town.

My mom came from a family of seven, my dad came from a family of six they both were the youngest in their families.

We were close, happy, loved I had instant friends.

Plus I had four younger brothers.

So it stands to reason that as I am sixty-three years old with most of my cousins older than me or trailing a few years behind

that my sorrow will be measured by the joy that I had/have.

Lately, several cousins have become seriously ill, some life-threatening, others enduring cancer, brain injuries, and a cousin and my brother died recently.

My days lately have held sorrow, questioning, and longing.

I have tried not to riddle my blog with updates nor my dark days to what has been happening in my family and with that

entanglement of our lives with this pandemic.

My mood swings, my thoughts are plentiful about life, faith, acceptance, gratitude... sadness.

 

 

Spring has come but not with blue skies and warmer days it has been mostly grey with rain which doesn't help lift the mood.

Neither have months on end with lockdowns in one shape or another.

Soon this will change spring usually puts on a cheery face rather than the gloomy one it has been showing.

And there is Gabriel and a new baby coming in October that has helped me to stay grounded in gratitude.

 

Though at times it has been challenging to face the newer awareness I have.

Seasons bring change and not necessarily predictably.

My family is aging and I am growing older too.

 

 

How are you?

What has been on your mind or heart?

 

I looked out my window as I held back tears, 

a little bird flew amongst the rain and clouds

Swirling up, diving down, flying upward, soaring...

Taking it as it comes 

Taking it as it comes

Rain, clouds, with spring, blooming and trusting the blue sky up above.

Gratitude

For the swallows dancing outside my window and when I looked up the symbolism of swallows:

The swallow also represents love, care, and affection towards family and friends,

showing the loyalty of the person always returning to them.

The swallows also represent everlasting love and are associated with loyalty and fidelity.

 

xxx

May in the Garden

May in the garden

under the cascade of roses

with the irises perfume mingling with the roses

feels so sacred.

Where is a source of renewal for you?

 

The Blast of the Trumpet

My Mother and Aunt Marie use to go to the antique auctions when I was child.

After the dinner dishes were done, they would race off with a smile,

high hopes were written on their faces.

A 1920s blue glass beaded evening bag-

An oak dresser with a swivel mirror for $35-

a round wooden table,

a chair with rawhide lacing,

Grey freckled tinware,

and a trumpet were some of the won bids I can recall.

Especially the trumpet.

My Mother used it as an alarm clock, "da da ta a ta dum da ta da da ta dum!"

She would toot to wake up my four brothers and me. 

The sound was startling as the morning light barely filled our rooms.

 It was not the blast of the trumpet

that struck my heart for the love of finding old things. 

(It is a wonder I like old things at all after that!)

It was the joy I saw on my Mother's face,

as she would come home late at night, with her arms carrying her latest acquisitions

and watching her create our home with her finds.

Bloom Here I Did

 

Bloom where you land.

Bloom with the tiny seed, dirt, and rain.

Trust in the elements that present themselves to you.

So I did when I discovered the brocante.

That was the beginning of truly falling in love with France.

Tell me what watered you the seeds of who you are?

 

Inspirational Michaela de Prince's Story

 

 

Michaela De Prince such an incredible story of survival and pursuit of happiness.

 

To be able to see light in a place of darkness, to be able to hold on against all odds and become

her higher self. I am in awe of such people in awe at their raw courage, their drive

to strive forward when there seemingly isn't a path before them.

Where does that passion, that focus, that calling, that knowing come from?

I believe that is what makes them extraordinary

that the mystery is manifested in their being and rockets

forth for others to follow.

 

 

Wallpaper Adventure

   

The room has no natural light so the photos are not the best.

Yann said it reminds him of his Aunt's home where the wallpaper is old, peeling, and well looks like this.

I told him I remembered her home and I love it, especially the wallpaper. Maybe that was the unconscious

inspiration? Nevertheless, Yann said he liked it, but maybe he said that just to be nice and fed.

 

 

 

All in all, it was a good project to accomplish on a rainy day.

Downpour! So much so it knocked over our rose bush!

What project(s) do you you going on?

 

Wallpaper Adventure Number 10000000000000000 (Maybe minus a bunch of zeros)

A rainy day, more or less the entire day,

gave me permission to stay indoors and dive into a long-awaited project giving it chance to become.

I had two more walls to wallpaper .

Those of you who have been reading this blog as long as I have been writing it know I have a thing

for patchwork wallpapering.

Yes, I had a sturdy ladder! I fell off once, shattered my wrist, and am still paying the price. 

Yes, I copied all the old papers I wanted to use.

Because twice (Yes, because I am a slow learner.),

I glued original antique papers that later I found out were worth several hundred euros so

now when I look at them I see Euros glued to the wall.

Oh, and I stopped before midnight.

 

Tomorrow it should be completed.

My phone is covered in glue, my arms feel like they are going to fall off and I might have glued bits of scraps to the floor.

A good healthy distraction.

And any of you, my husband included who think that this is the last wall 

I will wallpaper... well I know you know that is simply not true.

 

XXX

 

 

 

 

The Queen of Hearts

Dear Mom,

Witty, generous, faithful, constant ... soft heart but strong.

Breakfast, lunch, a "treat" at four, and dinner was made with a homemade dessert,

Our home was full of your creative touches and flowers from the garden were on the table,

There were a variety of homemade cookies in the bottomless cookie jar

our sheets were washed, then hung to dry outside, ironed, and placed back on our beds weekly,

We had our Sunday best and arrived fifteen minutes early to morning mass,

You raised us with tangible love and a sense of right and wrong,

We learned to jitterbug in the kitchen,

You played games with us and taught us the importance of team spirit plus gave us the drive to win,

yet we never managed to cheat at cards as well as you.

Happy Mother's Day Mom 

xxx

To Be Well in Our Lives

Slipping Down the Rabbit Hole Gawking at Antiques Online

 

Ecole FRANCAISE de la fin du XVIIIe siècle

 

It started with a painting of flowers that I missed during an auction as my bid was too low.

Determine to find another I searched for flower paintings that took me down a rabbit hole of discovery, astoundment, and drove me to own one.

Understandably my bid was too low but I gained knowledge which made the outcome a little less disappointing.

 

 

Peruvian Mary with Child

 

Of course, once down the rabbit hole distraction arrive. Type in flowers and other things pop up with flowers...

Oh no.

It is hard to stay focused when you are an antique addict and the brocante bug bites and there have been so few brocantes since covid.

I need a fix.

Fix anything with flowers made me drool.

 

 

Fortunée Florentine Courtois enfant en chemise

 

And then babies with fruit appeared.

AI knows me too well.

 

 

 

Then angels and this one had a fish.

At this point, I started to look at my ceiling wondering how could I hang paintings on them?

Seriously, I am bad but not that bad.

None of these I bought but boy did I want to buy them all.

 

 

 

Peacocks? Do I like peacocks? Should I look up peacocks...

 

 

 

I bought this one there is a pair.

It has a tulip, the tulip is the flower that sets other flower paintings apart for me.

The 18th century tulip.

Smack me I am gone.

 

 

 

 

 

Paper? Oh yes, paper. I adore old paper, with a king you said? Knock me over take all that I have.

Rabbit hole you are one wicked ride.

Is this too much?

Non.

 

 

 

Oh no... portraits with flowers and tulips.

Gulp.

 

 

 

 

NIII letter, plume, and wax seal and case....

I watched this auction and literally thought if I had a million dollars would I really spend it all in one afternoon at the auction

as some people do? This went for several thousand.

Wow.

 

Ecole italienne du XVIIIe siècle Bouquet de fleurs dans un vase godronné

 

 

 

That tulip, that butterfly...

 

 

Ambrosius Breugel- tableau (h:p) 'nature morte avec fleurs et nautile'

 

Can you imagine waking up tuning into an auction and spending millions just like that, just like I buy pasta

without thought of how much did I just spend today?

Dining like this?

 

 

Antoinette Cécile Hortense HAUDEBOURG dit HAUDEBOURG LESCOT (Paris 1784 - 1845)

 

Me... coming out of the rabbit hole with a wreath of ivy.

Looking around at the flowers blooming freely with the help of sun and rain.

Blooming, 

all for us to enjoy, and touch, and smell and smile.

 

(None of these photos are mine. They are from various auctions. 

Found while slipping down the rabbit hole of the internet.)

 

Life is Good

Cassis

 

 

Chelsea is four months along, at first she didn't feel so good but the second trimester is proving easier.

Gabriel kisses her tummy with tenderness, and baby kisses bring such sweetness.

We are over the moon and back with excitement good news is welcomed anytime, and especially this year.

I only wish my mother could see Gabriel more often and be here to witness the birth. Unfortunately, that is one of

the disadvantages of my living in another country. Separation of celebrations.

What good news have you this year?

 

Cassis

 

Soon France will not be in a lockdown... it feels odd and joyous mixed with

doubt and hope.

I have had my first vaccine, without a hitch, and the second one is on the 17th.

Since September I have had a cold / the flu more than ever before ... I think at least five times!

I took the covid test each time, but it was always negative. I had a blood test too, to be sure I never had it.

 

My friend Ching’s bouquet in Mo’s pottery.

 

Finally, after the longest greyest winter and the beginning of spring, I think we have passed the threshold to softer weather.

Our flowers are blooming and survived a downpour last weekend, even the irises braved through it!

 

 

 

These two beauties

my mom and niece Kate (sophomore in high school).

Kate won four awards at the FFA

Future Farmers of America ceremony.

Photo was taken by her Mom Diane.

 

 

 

My mom with her youngest grandchild Warren at his baseball game

where he is the pitcher and third baseman. The photo was taken by

his sister Molly.

Some Very Very Good News

Can you guess? Such very good news. 
Guess when this new little Sugar Bun is due.

Pink or Blue it does not matter.

 

Gabriel’s Passion

Gabriel loves boats.

Since they live near the Saint Martin canal in Paris

they walk there after his daycare to

 »see » the boats.

Has a childhood passion stayed with you into your adulthood?

 

 

 

 

 

First Poppies

Flower Language

You two bloomed 

gracefully

even when the sky turned grey

and the spring day was as cold as February 

fear did not overshadow you.

I hear you guiding my steps.

 

 

Coquette, The Miniature Portrait I call Piglet

 

This is Piglet.

 

 

With her grey curls, which was a thing back then, because she is not that old.

Her eyebrows are so hip now. How did she know?

A seductive echelle, blue-ribbon untied, what was she thinking

I doubt it was about chocolate.

And one gold loop, not two, trying to be a modern girl without a pearl earring.

I tell you this portrait has a story.

Coquette!

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is Barbara (Frank is her husband and they love France. I have had the pleasure of meeting them.)

in her university days. Guess the year? When I was a kid I was dreamy about the fluffy feather collar that graduates

wore for their portrait.

 

 

I (Chris) wanted to share with you a small 10-bead rosary that my husband found on our street when we lived in Hudson, Ohio years ago. 

He was walking and looked down and saw this. It looked quite old and special. At the time there was no Facebook or neighborhood app to post a photo, so I took a photo and made copies, and put it in all the mailboxes on our street.  No one ever claimed it.  Later, I was shopping for a new medal of the Virgin Mary for my husband at a religious store, and I told the clerk the story.  She said maybe no one claimed it because it was intended for us!  It has remained special to me ever since.  I even carried it in my pocket when we spent our time in Lacoste France while my husband taught there for a quarter at SCAD's campus. 

Enjoy!

Chris Ulichney

 

 

 

 

Terri shared, 

"My favorite picture is of myself and my sweetheart in Hawaii sitting on a couch. 

Best we ever looked!  Ha!  Over 30 yrs. ago!  At least I can remember when we were young."

 

 

 

Frank's photo memory (Barbara's husband)

 

My favorite picture of myself now sits in my daughter’s house.

It is me at the age of three in front of our house in a Detroit suburb. I am holding a toy steam locomotive that my father made by soldering together tin cans of various sizes. I am looking at the loco with a look that is both amazed and incredibly contented and delighted. It is entirely possible that I have never been so amazed, contented and delighted since. What is also amazing about the photo is the fact that my daughter’s son, my grandson, looks just like me in that picture when he was three. Whenever I visit my daughter’s house and see that picture that same amazed, contented and delighted feeling sweeps through me, and for an instant, I am three again.

 

BTW I am delighted that the miniature that you named Frank has hair.

 

Frank

 

 

 

 

Cy's response,

 

"Dear Corey, LOVED your portrait post!! I have two favorite photos lately, one is of me just after finishing chemo, no hair but looking quite happy! Second is my dear nephew and his young daughter, Wes, and Adeline. And finally, I didn't see my name, so.... save me a glass of wine in your garden in June

when I get back from a sabbatical in... VENICE!

I leave here on Sunday. One month in Venice!

Can you tell I'm excited?? Ciao!! Cyxx

 

(Lucky have a wonderful time!)

 

 

 

 

Jackie's portrait memory;

"One of my very favorite photos is of my son Luke. We adopted him in China.

From a grim orphanage. When I picked him up his face was crisscrossed with scars and at 6 years old he weighed only 28 pounds

(the average 2-year-old in America weighs 28 pounds.)

He was suspicious, quiet, and wary of everyone and everything when we picked him up.

He didn't make a peep.

 

Within about 6 months, with nothing more than good food and a bit of love (he was given the freedom to be a child)

he was transformed (like a chrysalis into a butterfly) into this dynamic little adventurer:

We titled this photo "Aquaboy!"

His superhero "mask" is a pair of swim goggles, his cape a pink baby blanket, and his sword a paper umbrella."

 

 

Judy tried to identify herself in the portraits above she thought she was the one on the bottom on the far left.

NOPE, you are the couple in the first couple from the bottom in the middle... with Bill.

Please tell everyone your MUST BE A MOVIE love story.

 

------

 

"Well, I have two actually, if that is ok...one is of my lovely Dad as a wee toddler, sitting on his father's knee looking sweet and chubby...the other of my Mum sitting on her own holding a little soft toy....my Mum was adopted as her mother got pregnant when unmarried and had to give up her lovely baby...a heart-wrenching thing that it seems she never recovered from...my mother did not meet her, finding out who she was a few short years after her mother had passed away...she compensated for her life being difficult by adopting three babies herself, my three siblings...six of us all together..those photos are on my stairs...both my parents passed away, my Dad just a couple of years ago. I say Hi to them each time I go past the stairs! I love all the miniatures by the way, so many amazing faces, and goodness know so many stories behind each that would be wonderful to explore! Cheers from Jennifer"

 

-----

 

 

"Hello Corey ~

Here is one of my favorite photos of my Francophile daughter, Emily Janine.  

A stylish redhead from Arizona…  

captured while waiting in line to enter Sainte-Chapelle for an evening concert."

 

Kelley

-----

 

The giveaway of two portraits go to

randomly picked:

Heather 

and

Judy McGowan

 

Thank you for sharing your portrait memories. I got teary over many of them. 

Love is here

gentle and strong, 

hold on.

 

 

 

 

What Caught Your Eye Today?

 

The painter captures the moment.

Giving a glimpse of the story that unfolds before his eyes.

The small details set up the atmosphere,

a book with a page being turned,

an empty china teacup,

an apple that sits near the fold line of a crisp white linen tablecloth.

 

Tomorrow I will give two little portraits away and tell the story of Piglet.

If you haven't already please leave a comment or send me an email to be part of the giveaway.

 

What small detail caught your eye today?

Mine was a grasshopper chomping away at the zucchini plant in our courtyard.

Miniature Antique Portrait That I Have Renamed After My Readers and a Giveaway

Miniature portraits catch my attention as much as everything else that is old does.

I have a Brocante Bug badly as you know.

The miniature portrait that I am mostly attracted to are the ones that

aren't raving beauties but have a certain unusual charm. Unique in their oddness. My appeal is not to find the glass slipper.

But realness, a look that strikes my curiosity, Who were they?

Miniature portraits were often commissioned so that they could be

given to a loved one to carry in their breast pocket, as we do now with photos on our cell phones. These miniature portraits

were painted on a very thin piece of ivory. Yes, ivory.

They are expensive but that doesn't stop me from looking and asking the price.

Anything under 60 euros is a deal. As I am on the hunt all the time my goal is to pay as little as possible and to like it tremulously which happens as often as I take a selfie. I have one miniature portrait that I bought for 5 euros about 25 years ago.

I call her Piglet. I know that is terrible, terrible, terrible ... 

Online there are thousands of miniature portraits so today I am going to share a few and name them.

Please do not take offense, especially if I do not name all of you. This is just for fun and to share some that I find lovely in their uniqueness.

 

 

Martine

 

 

Alan

 

 

Becky

 

 

Tara

 

 

Diogenes

 

 

Frank

 

 

 

The backside of the frames, the old way of securing portraits was like the above image

a circular, thinly cut triangle forms that were easily manipulated,

and yet held the portrait firmly.

 

 

Jilly

 

 

Jackie

 

 

Ed

 

 

Seriously! Show off. Dang is this cool.

 

 

Momof 5

 

Kathie B

 

 

Penni

 

 

How were they made?

 

A portrait on ivory takes about sixteen hours to create...

 

"Portraits were especially likely to be painted when a family member was going to be absent for significant periods, whether a husband or son going to war or emigrating, or a daughter getting married.

The first miniaturists used watercolor to paint on stretched vellum, or (especially in England) on playing cards trimmed to the shape required. During the second half of the 17th century, vitreous enamel painted on copper became increasingly popular, especially in France. In the 18th century, miniatures were painted with watercolor on ivory, which had now become relatively cheap. As small in size as 40 mm × 30 mm, portrait miniatures were often fitted into lockets, inside watch-covers, or pieces of jewelry so that they could be carried on the person. Others were framed with stands or hung on a wall or fitted into snuff box covers." Wiki listed below.

Leslie

 

 

Lil

 

Denise, Marilyn, Teddee, Anna, and Susan Z.

 

 

Texas Francophile, Diane my Cousin, Fat Rabbit, PJT, Chico Sue, Leau, Jennifer,

Barbara, Melly, Debra, Nancy, Carol, Julie, Linda, Judy, and Sue.

-----

Dreamy wall! Considering a miniature portrait on average cost a couple of hundred euros

this cost a couple of chunky wallets.

 

Rebecca NYC

 

 

 

Shelley Noble

 

Can you imagine wearing this, the comments you would receive, and the constant 

sharing who they are and their names?

This is Denise from Canada, and Cathleen from the States, and Patrizia from Italy, and Kambria from Mexico...

 

 

 

Mardog, my childhood friend, has a winery hence the red shawl.

 

 

Another showoff 

 

More about miniature portraits

This is just too good! I would love to know who collected them and the stories behind them.

 

 

Anna 

 

For my animal-loving friends...

 

 

 

VERY RARE 18TH CENTURY FRENCH MINIATURE FULL PORTRAIT AS METAMORPHOSE

Lot Number: 

101

3" (8 cm.) h. painting. An oval oil painting on copper depicting young a full-length portrait of a young lady with well-rendered costume and accessories, framed in an embossed oval case. Along with the painting are 13 mica overlays with hand-painted details of various costumes which, when placed over the oil painting, transform the young girl into various people, both men, and women, in a variety of detailed costumes, thus being an early "paper doll". In overall fair/good condition with wear to leather case, flaking on mica painting. France, mid-1700s, known as "metamorphoses", the overlay paintings became a popular fad for the aristocracy during this time, with various sets believed to represent important historical events or intrigues; they are extremely rare to find, and this example, depicting a full-length portrait figure is especially rare.

 

5000 Euros

 

Gulp. 

 

 

 

Laurie-Annya and Ian.

 

(click on photo for the references to buy it...)

 

 

 

Ching

 

 

 

 

 

G

 

 

John

 

 

Jeanne

 

 

 

I have two portraits to giveaway...

Send me an email or a comment with a few lines about your favorite photo of yourself or someone you love.

In a few days, I will pick two of you and send you a portrait.

And show you Piglet.

 

 

 

 

Have you had enough?

If I didn't mention your name you can come to France and bop me on the head.

Or have a glass of wine in the garden with me your choice.

French Auctions ... Antiques I Have Seen

 

 

 

A porcelaine gilded and painted needle case. Why? Because needlework was an art, and the wealthy had beautiful objects to hold their tools.

Sort of like who has the latest iPhone, or designer purse, or what car do you drive.

Show and tell still exist is some circles.

 

Some of the things I hear when talking to others about the beautiful objects found or seen are:

 

"I wasn't born in the right era?"

or

 

"We could never create such beautiful things now."

 

and

 

"When did they find the time to do it?"

 

We know the answers don't we? 

 

 

 

 

Speaking of what car do you drive...

Take a look at this 1700s saddle

I would say it was a Rolls Royce in its day no?

 

 

My brothers and I had hotwheels.

They use to tie my mice, yes I had mice, on to their hotwheel cars and watch them fly into the air from the ramp.

That is probably why the mice had to find a way to break free from the cage my father made for them.

They were so cute.

They would have loved to live in their great great great ... grandparent's era.

 

 

 

 

A palanquin.

Imagine the scene, the clothing, instant movie in my mind.

 

Several of these were up for sale at a French auction the other day.

 

How I wanted one.

I don't know why. 

I could have put it over the toilet.

Gasp.

But think how cool and how often it would be used.

Yann looked at me like I was losing it.

Pun intended.

 

...and you thought I was seriously going to talk about antiques?

I could but this is more fun.

 

 

 

 

A rare and historical piece of Alencon lace belonging to Marie Antoinette

It sold for over 10000 euros.

 

Do you want to see more from the French Auctions?

 

If you want to buy at the auctions you can. 

Usually, the price you see is a low estimation at least that is what I have witnessed over and over again.

Maybe it is a blind leader pulling you in, "Oh that is a great price!" But actually when the item comes up

it goes much higher. Remember to you have the auctionner cost to add, packing and posting.

The auctions are a learning tool for me, like going to the museum.

 

Everything anything precious, rustic, curious, historical...

tools, paintings, textiles, books, military, toys...

Beats watching Netflix.

Couch surfing the "haute gamme" brocante .

While drooling on my keyboard

 

 

 

 

Antique Glass Top Candy Boxes

 

These charming 1800s glass top hand-painted scene boxes were for chocolates;

They are made out of "carton" hardbound paper with golden paper lace strips to add richness to the paper form.

These were on sale at an auction that I watched online which has become my new binge-watching addiction.

 

 

They sold for over 200 euros each.

That is some sweet chocolate in those once filled boxes.

 

 

Sure beats the wrapping of chocolate these days.

Do you think someone will binge watch an auction 

of candy wrappers?

 Almond Joy 200 Euros going once, going twice, SOLD .

 

 

 

 

 

I rarely wee these at the brocantes, though when I do they are 

still out of my price range. They are sought after.

 

 

Auction

here is one for sale.

If you buy it put my name inside for safekeeping.

 

 

 

 

Which is your favorite?

And

What is your favorite candy?

Did you ever save lollipop wrappers?

 

 

To see more look here on pinterest.

 

French 19th Century Eglomise Bonbon Boxes

without candy

but still deliciously delightful!

Nearly May... The French la VIe

The French la Vie...

that beautiful gathering of friends from blogging who loved coming

to France, digging in the brocantes, meeting people, sharing stories, tasting Provence

in big juicy gulps and delicate sips.

I postponed the 2020 gatherings, hoping that 2021 would be promising.

Though after much thought and listening to others I decided that 

 even if we have our vaccines it will take time for France to feel like France again.

When we travel we want to dive in, soak it in, be carefree as the wind and not have to second guess

about covid, germs, what if, am I safe, do I have my mask, does that cough mean something...

So now I am looking at Spring 2022. Some of you have already mentioned 2022 as your hope

to come to France. I have your reservations from 2020 leaning in for 2022.

For those of you who reserved a place in 2019/2020 please write me if you have any questions.

Regarding new reservations, I prefer to wait until October before opening up the French la Vie register for 2022.

Fingers crossed.

 

 

 

Wish They Could Stay With Us Forever