French la Vie

Horrific

How 

many

more

before

there 

is 

a change!?

French la Vie

 

Our French la Vie Brocante journey started off with a perfect day. We visited four places from Marseille to our home.

The women feel like I have known them for years but have literally just met. That is what is so awesome about this experience

is the bond that is created for a passion of seeing beauty in the ordinary, and sharing the joy in discovering history and culture while at the brocantes.

 

We came to our home and each guest settled into their rooms.

The sweetest compliment, "If today were the only day of our time together it would already be more than I expected."

 Here is to showing these four lovely women a wonderful week. I am so honoured to show them my haunts.

 

Now off to bed as the day comes early and we have many people and places to go!

Follow my stories on Instagram or French la Vie Facebook for more photos.

 

Pottery and roses from my friend Mo.

our home is ready to welcome our guests

the roses are fading too soon

tbe light in the dining room won’t click on

our fridge is full of French fresh 

and the champagne is chillin’

beds are made scented with lavender

our visits are planned

the van is ready

my head is hitting the pillow and will wake to the start of a wonderful long awaited journey

with Michelle, Terri, Dina and Cynthia.

French la Vie!

 

Recharged and Ready for the French la Vie

Yesterday we spent the day with our friends Laurie-Annya and Ian. A wonderful day just hanging out in Cassis the time went by happily as we recharged our batteries, danced on the square, went out on the blue sea, and watched fireworks light up the sky.

Thank you for the photo Laurie-Annya!

 

 

 

Third Time Around

When I was a teenager I found box of baby girl clothes tucked away in the hallway closet. I asked my mother who they belong to but before she could respond I already knew the answer. Those baby clothes had been tucked away since I was a baby. As the oldest and only daughter my mother kept those clothes assuming her next baby might be a girl. But four boys later those clothes were forgotten.

When I came to France I brought my baby clothes with me. Chelsea wore them and now Olivia is wearing them too.

 

Brocante Count down----

 

The countdown to the French la Vie brocante adventure starts on Tuesday! Hasn't it been a long time coming? 

Four women will arrive ready for the hunt, when they leave another four arrive.

I told them to pack light. That this isn't a fashion show so bring as little as possible.

I have been getting things in order: The bedrooms, the itinerary, the grocery list...

The brocante, the hunt, the fun, the reason to be,

is the easy part.

Yann is taking time off to drive and be my assistant.

He is superman!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Secrets in the Attic Part Two

The other day I wrote about being so immersed in looking through boxes in an attic

that I didn't even react when a rat fell on my shoulder. Recalling that moment now causes me to shudder 

and honestly want to vomit. I have a serious addiction to old things. 

 

Judy, a longtime reader of French la Vie sent me an email regarding my blog post.

Judy's story sharing did not disappoint. I asked her if I could share it with you ...

 

"Mice, rats, and spiders would do me in no matter what the treasure was.  Add a bat to the mixture and I would probably faint.  Once when my sister was alone at her Montana home, her dog alerted her in the middle of the night that there was a grizzly bear outside.  She got her gun but she keeps the shells in her living room 2 steps down.  She miscalculated where the steps were in the darkness and fell to the floor.  She felt something swoop over her head.  When she reached the lights, she saw a bat on the beam.  She went to the closet to get a broom to try to swat at the bat and a mouse ran out of the closet.  She spent the rest of the night in a chair where she could see the bat, see outside to make sure the bear wasn’t going to break in, and scanned the floor for the mouse.  Of all the creatures, she was most afraid of the mouse.  We grew up on a farm and saw mice often, but never liked them.  (She only keeps the gun for protection.  Bears have been known to break into houses though it is very rare)."

Judy Wilcox

Readers Photos Shared

 

I love when people send me photos of what they have created or used the old paper that I have sold or given to them.

"Corey, 

Well, after years of having those wonderful French papers you gave me, I FINALLY found a “card” pattern (most cards aren’t 10 1/2 inches X 14 inches!)

I like them well enough to use them.  The background and the foreground(of course) are from the papers; the 2 ladies in the middle ground are copies of dress patterns

that my mother kept; the rest are things found here and there.  Thank you. Rachel"

 

 

"Hi, Corey,

 

I promised that I would send you a photo if I did anything with the French stamps you sent me.  I used them in a display of things on my dining room sideboard with some old letters and other things I love.  Stamps are little works of art and the older ones are so evocative of an era and a place.  Thank you so much!  ...

 

Love,

Debbie"

 

🌸🌸🌸

 

 

 

The Gift of Acceptance

 

 

I wonder how my mother is?

How does she do it?

How does she not complain or at least feel sad about how her life has changed.

But no.

 Recalling her daily ritual those little ordinary things that she did.

Such as picking a small bouquet from her garden for her kitchen window.

Baking cookies and pies.

Feeding her chickens.

Spending time in her garden.

Helping others in any way that she could.

She says she is fine. That healing takes time.

I hope that a ton of all that she is rubs off on me.

Saying Something

 

 All those little things that say something that words fail to, or actions deny.

All those little things that let us know that the moment is right,

that we are on to something good, that it is okay, that we will be alright.

The way the morning light reaches into our bed,

the way the hot water runs down our bodies in the shower,

the way the church bells ring just at a time when silence needs to be broken.

The way a strawberry tastes or a daffodil springs yellow into the darkness,

or the way a kite string plays in the wind against a cool blue sky.

The little things that speak a message out of nowhere that we want to hear.

 

The way written words, even those in nature's songs

connect us to the unheard story within our being:

How can I describe it?

How is it when the soul is stirred...

A song on the radio,

Several words strung together in a poem,

How the leaves dance even though tumbling down,

and the blossoms burst through the ground,

Oh, and the softness of shadows playing before us.

Nature's ballet.

 

 

 

Watermelon Seeds

 

 

While threading the needle to sew Sacha's worn jeans I asked Annie if she had any tender memories of living during World War II? If there was any light in that dark passage. Anything that reminded her of beauty when life around them was so unfair and off-balance.

 

 

 

 

Annie kept her eye on the thread and needle, "Of course, there were tender moments, we had each other. Our family moved from Marseilles (which was heavily bombed) to our country house. We were lucky to have a garden, my mother planted lentils. We had plenty to eat. We exchanged food from our garden for other things we needed.

 

 

 

Annie went on to say that during that time she was barely twenty and pregnant with her first child.

"One of my activities was to walk down to the village and exchange some of our produce

for whatever my family might have needed.

 

 

 

On the other side of the village, there was a man who grew watermelons. Whenever he saw me in the village he would race back to his garden to give me one. Can you imagine how wonderful it was to have a watermelon? It was such a rare treat. They were not very big, but they were sweet, and you know I have a thing for fruit. Mon Dieu, I prefer fruit over bonbons. 

 

 

Whenever, he would give me a watermelon he would say, "This is for your baby. Your baby needs to taste sweetness." I was surrounded by such generosity. I think being pregnant brought out the best in the people around me. Seeing my big belly gave them hope, made them reflect on the wonders of life... or something like that... instead of the hardships of war."

 

 

I would lug that watermelon, the supplies I had exchanged from our produce, and my big belly to the river. The river is on the outskirt of the village, Annie's home was on the other side and up a steep hill. Then, I would sit by the plantain tree, you know the one at the end of your street, and I would crack that watermelon open, grab the heart and eat it. Funny, after all these years, I can recall the watermelon juice running down my face. It didn't bother me in the least. It was a luxury, sweet juice running down my face between my breast to my pregnant belly.

Note: This is one of my favorite stories of Annie's. When Annie she told this story I felt transported to another time when her memory was living, and her body was young and ripe. It showed me Annie and how she was full, ripe, sweet, and with many seeds of hope.

Happy Birthday, Annie.

Secrets in the Attic

 

Up in an attic, secrets are told tucked away in boxes, stuffed in baskets, locked in safe boxes,

buried in forgotten letters, or left aside without thought by someone who never came back.

I enjoy going through things in attics, not so much the dust, nor the little creatures that pop up without saying hi.

There is usually a discovery or two, and stories that follow are worth the mice, and spiders who claim the empty space as their home.

Have you ever had a mouse run up your leg?

I had a rat fall on me, yeah I didn't even scream as I was way too into a box of old papers to notice.

 

That is when I realized I have a serious addiction.

But then you already knew that crazy factoid about me.

 

 

 

Happy Place

Thank you, AtlasVintage Carole, for the photo. 

Three years ago, this photo was taken on the last French la Vie.

Then Covid turned everything upside down.

Last week I teamed up with Red Shed Tours leading a group of 12 women around

Provence and the brocantes.

Back in the saddle feels better than ever.

The next group arrives on May 24. They have waited three years!

Finally, we will meet and create stories and find things that tell us their stories.

 

 

Happy Brocanting

 

 

This morning we got up early and

drove three hours to a brocante dealer’s home where stacks and stacks of boxes greeted us.

Paper, paintings, textiles, and things that made me giddy.

It was a mother lode of happiness.

 

Hours later, we pack the car and returned home three hours later.

One of my favorite things to do in all the world is to be in a garage, or an attic, or a place full of boxes just waiting for me to go through them and find wonderful old things that are waiting to come home with me.

Now, the work begins to put things up for sale, box them up, and kiss them goodbye.

To see more of what I am finding and selling follow me on Instagram.

Tis the Season

 This is the season to enjoy! When our courtyard is in bloom I just want to stay put and savor it.

Soon to be on the Go

Soon, as in days or maybe even now

this Little One is going to crawl and when she does

she will be called, ’” Go Go Baby ".

When Roses Bloom

Repost from 2009

When the roses start to bloom I think of Annie.

 

 

I was up on a ladder, in my garden, trimming a rose bush when my friend Annie came over to visit. Looking up at me, then the rose bush she said, "How I wish I were up on that ladder! What a pleasure it would be to aid spring!"

 "Annie!" I greeted her, "I was just saying to myself, God, I wish Annie were here to help me!"

Annie said, "You should pray for something serious because you have his ear!" With that
I jumped down from the ladder and hugged her.

Eagle-eyed Annie sees things with years of experience and gives her wisdom from a gentle heart. She advised me which off shots to cut, what branches to trim and in the middle of it all, recited her recipe for rose jam.

As I started to sweep the rose clippings into a pile, Annie bent down and picked up a few branches.

"We could plant these you know. Do you have a hammer?"

"A hammer? You mean a shovel?"

"No, a hammer, we need to smash the ends. Do you have a hammer, and we will need wheat seeds too."

A hammer and wheat seeds? Who would have guessed that is how one plants roses clippings?

Annie has a ton of her mother's secrets about gardening, cooking, sewing, baking, wine-making, and a million other household tricks up her sleeve. I thank my lucky stars that she remembers everything in such detail to share it with me.

I gave her a hammer. Unfortunately, I didn't have any wheat seeds on hand, though I had rice grain and offered that instead.

"No, rice won't work, but we can use our hair instead." She said.

"Our hair?" Certainly, I had misunderstood her French.

"Yes, we need something to aid the rose trimmings to root. You'll see."

Under her guidance I trimmed the rose clippings, taking off the old leaves and leaving one or two new shoots per branch. Each trimming was about eight inches long. As long as it had a new shoot it could be used. Annie smashed one end with the hammer. Then we plucked out two to three strands of hair from our heads. Then, Annie put the hair strands in the smashed part of the trimming, then pinching it so it wouldn't slip out, she wrapped the other ends of hair around and around the trimming. Afterward, she poked the hair-wrapped rose branch into the moist dirt about two inches deep.

                                                          

Annie says that this method helps the rose trimmings root easier giving them a better chance of survival. She did say that for every five rose shoots, maybe one will take.

"Annie, I wonder if my dyed blond hair will turn the red roses white?" I laughed.

"Only the hairdresser in the sky knows for sure." She smiled as she pulled out a few more strands of my hair. Then added, "Though, if your neighbors are watching us, they'll think we are crazy old ladies!"

Photos of My Annie who is nearly 90 years old and is going strong.

Note: The wheat grain or lentil is shoved up into the smashed part of the rose stem. Then planted about two inches deep into moist soil; The wheat or lentil sprouts faster, and therefore aids the rose trimming to root easier.

My Mom

 

My sister-in-law Diane, Me, my brother Mark,

my youngest brother Zane, my sister-in-law Shelley, and my brother Mat with one T.

Standing proudly around my mom.

xxx

Last November, after the Thanksgiving meal, Sacha took some photos of us.

The first Thanksgiving without my brother Marty. His family celebrated at their home understandably.

Yann, Chelsea, and co. were in France.

It was the first Thanksgiving when my mom didn't cook/bake everything. 

Even though Thanksgiving was different it wasn't.

 

 

 

Happy Mother's Day!

Even if it is different this year it isn't really.

You are here as strong as ever in all that you give and have given to us.

(With the exception of cookies and pies.)

 

 

 

 

Surrounded by Healing Love

OMG!!! Look how my beautiful, fun-loving cousins cheer on my mom! Angels disguised as flappers will have my mom dancing! Thank you, Cousins Lynette Carroll, Donna Bassetti, and Barbara Leach ❤️❤️❤️
And everyone who visits my mom. 

Zut Alors

One of the very first French words I learned when I came to France was, "Zut".

Simply, because Yann's mom said it often enough. The way she said it, and when she would say it,

I figured it had to be a polite sort of replacement for a bad word.

And since I swear (such a bad habit of mine) I thought maybe I could say, "zut" instead of the other

colorful words that pop out of my mouth. Unfortunately, ZUT never made it out of my mouth.

Yann, on the other hand, is the master of not swearing or using slang words. Thankfully, when we first met he didn't speak English.

And well, as you know, I didn't speak French, so my swearing was not a deal-breaker in our relationship, and when we finally understood that our

vocabulary choices were vastly different from each other's it was zut too late.

 

(These gilded wooden letters belong to my friend Delphine.)

 

Moi

Nearly eighteen years ago I started this blog... every day some little note is added.

I grew up in a small rural town called Willows

My journey included a million first cousins, four brothers, studying depth psychology, praying, cooking, and doing retreat work on CJ Jung while living in a Benedictine monastery in New Mexico.

I hiked the Grand Canyon, wished on stars, and worked for the

Catholic Church in San Francisco. It was there that I fell

in love against the odds at the Ibeam with a Frenchman who happened to be on vacation. 

He collected his "belle souvenir" and moved back to his homeland: France. 

Over thirty years ago, two beautiful children, a son in law, two wee ones, and many containers 

of French antiques, I am still tripping over my tongue gathering

 adventures at the flea markets. 

Most days I am happily walking somewhere in

Provence smiling while whispering over the waves: thank you xx

Paris Last Night

 

 

On the Train to Paris

Memories of our plane ride to California came rolling in as we took the three hour plus TGV from Marseille to Paris.
We went back with Chelsea and the little ones as Yann had a meeting in Paris and we could help Chelsea with the children.

Three adults two children.

We all took naps except Gabriel and Papioca.

 

 

Then this one thought why not learn to crawl on a table in a moving train? Sort of felt like the story: Cat in the Hat.

 

These Two

 

Shared Treasures

How I love when you my readers share

what you do with things you have bought from me.

I received this message today:

Hi Corey-

I just wanted to share a couple pictures of a wreath I bought from you several years ago. I saved it for my granddaughter Josette’s First Communion. I did embellish it a bit and she loved it! Thank you for sharing your treasures!        

Thanks again! Lorna

 

Beautiful darling Josette!

Happy First Communion!

The White Hair Twosome

Funny how it happens

age comes

all at once over years 

here we are

the same but with added patina and texture.

 

Thankful Yes

 

 

 

Savor the Moment

 

 

Teaming Up with Red Shed Tours

 

Over the last several days I have been with Red Shed Tours guiding them around and through Provence, the brocantes, and private addresses that I have up my sleeve.

We have all sorts of weather but that did not dampen our spirits nor our adventures. Luckily, I can pull many places out of my hat when it rained and the brocante was closed. That is the advantage of traveling with a local.

 

I am so fortunate to be able to team up with Red Shed Tours. Michele and Valorie, the owners of Red Shed Tours are a dream team with which I have enjoyed collaborating. We plan to do more in the future.

 

Yes, I am still continuing with my French la Vie retreats, the only difference is mine are intimate small groups, as Red Shed's are larger and include more free time.

I have two openings for the French la Vie Retreat in June. Let me know if you are interested.

 

 

Make a Wish

make a wish

one for each seed

send it forth with your breath

one for others

one for the world

one for you.

 

 

Red Shed Tours

Teaming up with Red Shed Tours

fun at every pit stop and turn.

will be sharing more when I have time to share.

Thank you Valerie and Michele for giving me this fun loving opportunity x

now, when are you going to join me?

The Tide of Love

 

never  holds back 

 

Thank you so much for your loving messages and prayers.

xxx

 

Six Months Old

The Sweetness is six months old.

Papioca

Update on my Mom

(A photo taken on Easter with my niece Patti)

My mother is all about doing the best she can without complaining. Her faith is where she stands in anything that comes her way. Oh and she is the boss.

The fractured pelvis is only on one side. My mother isn’t in pain if she stays still, she can sit. The doctor said she can go to rehab so hopefully it will be nearby.

My brothers and sisters (in law) and family are rallying around her and my moms spirit is good. My family said she was saying funny one liners… she is witty. 

Thank you so much for your caring messages and felt prayers. I am grateful for this community which is you xxx

Tomorrow I lead a group of 13 women with Red Shed Tours for a week. Then depending where my mom is I might go home.

I hope you and yours are well.

Thank you ❤️

My Mom

 

My mother fell and fractured her pelvis.

She also had four stitches above her eye.

And a raccoon got into her chicken pen and killed one of her ladies (as she calls them).

That bothered my mom the most.

Her chicken!

And that she has to be very still for a long while.

We are not certain what the path to healing will be or look like.

I just want to go home and be by her side.

 

When I was 29, marrying a French man and moving to the other side of the world, I didn't consider 

the long years ahead and how that move would change everything in the future.

How could I?

I was in love and trusted that love would find its way around whatever transpired.

Watching loved ones growing up, growing older, and seeing the repercussions of having a big family and the physical distance between us 

is not for the faint of heart. Nor for my tender heart.

Love is tricky in how it ropes you in around caring so deeply that you will do anything you can and at the same time shows you when to let go.

 

Please keep my mom's firecracker personality and her need to stay still in your loving prayers.

She won't be happy that I wrote it here on my blog so please don't tell her.

 

 

 

A Carrot and a Sweet Boy

Gabriel said to his mother that he wanted to see the Easter bunny. Chelsea told him that the Easter bunny was very shy and afraid and that he like to come for the children are asleep.

Gabriel responded, “ I am very sweet. The Easter bunny doesn’t need to be afraid of me. »

In France, when the church bells ring on Easter morning they ring outchocolate eggs for the children. So instead  of a bunny the French have bells.

 

Olivia’s first food

 carrot purée.

—-

Photos sent to me as Olivia and Chelsea are still testing positive.

 

Happy Easter xxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easter Bonnet

 

Good Friday Antique From my friend Phillip

Symbolism of faith.

Yann, Thé Hunk at the Brocante

Yann drives me to the brocantes 

everywhere

anywhere

 

early mornings until late in the evenings 

AND 

Carries my finds, my purchases to the car-

heavy

light

fragile

bizarre and fluffy.

My hunk of burning brocante love he is

 

A Beautiful Gift from Manuela Buisset

 

Soon after Gabriel was born a beautiful handmade gift arrived.

Every single detail was created with perfection. The cards, the stationary, the

book with photos circled with lace and sweetness, a darling elephant... a

package of beauty, love, generosity and creativity.

 

 

Manuela Buisset created this treasure for Chelsea

weeks after Gabriel was born. It remains a treasure.

 

 

Made with vintage and antique textiles.

 

This divine book of photos that Manuela made using photos from my blog.

So unexpected, delightful and WOW what a gift.

My appreciation of this treasure continues.

How thoughtfully kind of you Manuela.

Thank you a hundred times over.

 

Stand with Ukraine 

Covid Continues

photos from Chelsea.

 

Be the Light

 

The Portrait

The place.

1800s

France

a blue velvet chair

 

 

The fitting

a change of clothes 

from the Provençal countryside attire

to a blue silk smocked dress with a fine transparent trim.

 

 

 Who?

A young girl

sitting by flowers from the garden.

 

Third Day Update

First Day:

Gabriel had a fever and slept most of the time.

Didn't eat.

 

 

 

Second Day:

Gabriel had a dry cough, less fever, and still wasn't eating.

 

 

 

The third day:

Still not eating, no fever, and a dry cough.

Nevertheless, he was playing and seemed happier today.

Except, Chelsea has a scratchy throat and a dry cough.

She took a covid test it was negative. She will take another one tomorrow.

 

Bits of News

At last, my lost suitcase was found and returned to me.

8 days later.

🧳

—-

The correct pronunciation for Papillote is:

Pap - pee- Yacht

🍬

—-

War crimes?

War is a crime.

 

🕊

—-

 

My friend Gina is here. I haven’t seen her since 2019!

 

😊

—-

 

Gabriel has Covid. Thankfully he is feeling better and better.

I pray Chelsea and the baby do not catch it.

 

🤒

—-

 

I had a wonderful lunch at Table 7 in Cassis.

 

🍽

—-

For the first time, Yann is beating me in French checkers!

grrr

 

☹️

—-

 

This Sunday will be the first time I can vote in France as I have Dual Nationality.

 

🇫🇷 🇺🇸

—-

What is new with you?

 

Papioca

 

 

Papillote is a French Christmas candy as popular as candy canes in the States. Though it doesn't look anything like a candy cane it is made of chocolate. You might think it is a bit odd that I am writing about a Christmas candy during Easter ... Though you will see my story doesn't have anything to do with Christmas except the name of the candy.

 

Since Martin and Chelsea did not want to reveal Olivia's name until she was born they called her, "Papillote" in the months leading up to her birth.

Gabriel understood this to mean Olivia had this name. From that moment on the name, "Papillote" has stuck with him.

When we arrived at my Mom's home Gabriel said his sister's name was, "Papillote".

My mother had a difficult time pronouncing "Papillote" so she asked Gabriel to teach her how to say it. 

Gabriel would say, "Pap-pee-ought".

My mother tried and tried to pronounce it though she just couldn't get it right.

After the 100th time, my mother gave up and said,

"Okay, forget about it, I am going to call her, "Tapioca".

And she did.

The day went on with my mother singing and saying, "Tapioca" and Gabriel correcting her every time,

"No, Vavalinga it isn't "Tapioca", it is "Papillote".

But my mother shook her head adding, "I cannot pronounce it, so Tapioca it is."

By the end of the day, I don't know who said it first, the two names merged -

"Papioca"

and just like that, another nickname came to be.

 

 

 

What is the Secret…

Thank you Dixie for posting this!

It made me feel that I am not alone and crazy.

Do any of you relate to any or all of these?

My mother has a terrific memory. Utterly amazing. While I was at home she would give me a look that seemed to say,

”Again?”

Honestly, her memory and focus are rock solid.

Maybe sitting outside everyday without sunscreen is her secret.

Or not having a cell phone nor the internet. 

Or her strong mindfulness to be a good person and do that right thing.

Or maybe it is because she has said the rosary everyday since she was a child.

Or/and that she sleeps solid 10 hours Every Night!!!!

…

all I can say is my mom is with it at 86… She is witty, fast humored, and has great positive comebacks. She would never leave her clothes in the dryer because she hangs them outside, and she arrives 30 minutes early because that is how it is done.

 

What is the Secret…

Thank you Dixie for posting this!

It made me feel that I am not alone and crazy.

Do any of you relate to any or all of these?

My mother has a terrific memory. Utterly amazing. While I was at home she would give me a look that seemed to say,

”Again?”

Honestly, her memory and focus are rock solid.

Maybe sitting outside everyday without sunscreen is her secret.

Or not having a cell phone nor the internet. 

Or her strong mindfulness to be a good person and do that right thing.

Or maybe it is because she has said the rosary everyday since she was a child.

Or/and that she sleeps solid 10 hours Every Night!!!!

…

all I can say is my mom is with it at 86… She is witty, fast humored, and has great positive comebacks. She would never leave her clothes in the dryer because she hangs them outside, and she arrives 30 minutes early because that is how it is done.

 

Dust...

Poetry is not a luxury