Category: Living in France
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Thanksgiving with Cinderella
My Mother use to call me Cinderella, not because I wore glass slippers, nor for my flare for transforming mice into men, but because I was the oldest child followed…
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A Touch of Grace
The bounty at the weekly French markets, a living art gallery, a dose of inspiration and more than that, the work of human hands combined with the grace of nature, a holy gift of life itself. …
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Autumn Cornucopia
This afternoon was chilly, an Autumn breeze followed me indoors. A hunk of Roquefort waited on a chunk of baguette, A half-peeled clementine and a cracked pomegranate compared tones of deep red…
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The First Cut
-Memories Past- Roses or lace it is the same when it comes to cutting into one or the other, an agonizing decision for me to make. How can I make a curtain, if I don't cut the lace?How can I…
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Believing Soul
This blogging community has revealed itself as a place where we can go straight to the heart, share ourselves without make-up, designer clothes, or any of the other society wraps that usual tag us before a word comes…
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Chelsea Roo
My 1990 Chelsea's first voyage to California. She was five months old. My cousin Julie, Sacha's Budda Mere took the photo of us as we were visiting her in San Francisco. The twenty-two-hour door to door trip from…