Category: Living in France
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Objects That Speak
The items we hold on to may not always be the most valuable, but they hold a special place in our hearts. I have my dad’s old tee shirt, my children’s baby teeth, a holy water font from my grandparents’…
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The Name Game
First, I must say I collect seashells. 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, backwards, non?” The French pronounce CH…
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On the Way to Cassis
The car windows are down, inviting nature to come inside. My hair wildly dances in the wind every which way, tangling with the scent of pine, thyme, and hints of rosemary. Like guardians of the road to Cassis, the parasol…
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The Fragrance of Provence
Speak to me in French without saying a word in French.
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The Story of Another Old Thing
Railings are everywhere in France. Everywhere. They adorn everything—various sizes, intricate to plain Janes, straight-lace to curvy. Made of iron, they are made to last. I bet you could go to any part of France, Stand in one spot, pivot…
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My Neighbor on His Heavenly Anniversary
When my children were little, we had a magical, organic vegetable garden. We had tomatoes until December, green beans that made Jack-in-the-Bean-Stalk look like any Tom Dick or Harry kind of ordinary guy and spinach that made Popeye green with envy.…