French la Vie

Advent Prayer

Lead me love

to have awareness of
your guidance

to bring forth your invisible truth

…

advent prayer

 

 

 

 

 

 

… In this Dark with me

By Jessica Powers 

 

 

 

Flower Bed… How does your garden grow?

 

My mother‘’a Christmas theme flower bed.

How does her garden grow?

I can honestly say she can hold happiness and sadness in the same hand and yet plant the seeds for life to continue gracefully.

The art of gardening is knowing that roses have thorns.

How does your garden grow?

 

This Little Bundle

This Little Bundle

Painting My Mom’s Mailbox

Every month one of us in the Amaro family paints my mom’s mailbox at the end of her lane. Today Elena was the one to give it a go. My mom likes her big country mailbox to be painted following holiday themes or monthly traditions this month it is a given … Christmas.

Elena asked my mom what she preferred her to paint and  Santa was decided upon.

 

First, we scrapped some of the paint off.
Layers of painted themes from over the years.

Themes such as…

January champagne glasses,

February hearts,

March could be shamrocks 

April Easter eggs

May spring flowers 

June Father’s Day

July the flag

August a beach ball

September back to school

October, November, December I bet you can guess.

 

 

A happy peek and then a wondering about additional charm.

Artist and inspector 

equal admirers of each other’s creative force.

 

 

 
Deck the mailbox with a touch of holly.

 

Well done Elena!

To Marty and Julie

One moment leads to another 

Seed . Bud . Blossom …

 

 
Life is movement

Becoming  .  Changing  .  Growing

Blending the physical and spiritual,

Intellect and intuition.

 

Life changes

it weaves within us 

connects us to each other

 

…

When someone we love leaves us 

Life around us shifts, changes, leaving us with an empty space. 

A seed of their life roots slowly within us, in that inner space, often invisible, overtime leading us to a relationship with our memory and often a spiritual connection. It is there that the space is renewed and the one that we loved/love blooms.

 

Becoming one within.

…

The Loved Old Friend at the Brocante

 

For those of you who do not follow me on Instagram, where I post videos I will be re-posting a few here every now and then.

Autumn Sunshine

photo above via my dear friend Erika.

 

 

Thanksgiving day

( my mom and sister in law Diane are out of view can you find them sitting at the table. My brother Marty’s family did not join us. Understandably, it was too hard for them.)

 

 

Sacha came from Seattle with Elena his Italian girlfriend.

As it was an incredible warm beautiful day we had Thanksgiving lunch outside. 

 

Natural table decorations 

 

My mom showing Elena

how to make 10 pounds of mashed potatoes.

Muscles.

 

The nieces welcoming Elena into their Va’s kitchen.

 

A Thanksgiving photo from years ago.
When my brother Marty was with us.

 

This little pumpkin in France.

 

My mom’s favorite pumpkin this year. 

And the canal behind my mom’s house at sunset.

 

The Best Find of Old Papers

 

For those of you who do not follow me on Instagram, where I post videos I will be re-posting a few here every now and then.

Do You Think I Like Portraits?

 

 

Obviously this is my favorite.

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time, I stopped using plastic.

Once upon a time, I only used two gallons of water a day, I was obsessed with every drop of water.

Once upon a time, I stopped buying new clothes and adhered to slow fashion.

Once upon a time, I walked if the distance was less than three miles away.

Once upon a time, I only ate food that was grown 30 miles or less from my home.

Once upon a time, I stopped eating junk food as it was a waste of natural resources.

Once upon a time, I invited the homeless to live with me.

Once upon a time, I reduce my trash to one recyclable bag a month.

Once upon a time, I only bought pre-loved.

Once upon a time, I stopped using a dryer, and only washed in cold water.

Once upon a time, I became a vegetarian.

Once upon a time, I made-do

Once upon a time, I reused.

Once upon a time, I repaired.

Once upon a time, I rented instead of buying.

Once upon a time, I planted a food garden.

Once upon a time, I stopped flying overseas.

Once upon I time, I should have done more instead of less.

Once upon a time, I believed the world would be as beautiful as it is now for my grandchildren's children.

 

 

Thanksgiving

We miss you.

 

My Mother prepares the Thanksgiving meal.

Every year one of the traditional things that she makes are butter cookies that she cuts out with a red cookie cutter that is shaped like a turkey.

Setting the table she adds one of the turkey cut-out cookies to each of the plates.

—-

My brother Marty would traditionally sneak into the dining room and bite off the heads of each of the turkey cookies.

Crumbs and a headless, cookie-cut-out turkey...

Thanksgiving would begin with

my Mother moaning, "Marty!"

—-

 

This year... we miss you, we miss you, we miss you...

I am home in Willows, Sacha and his Italian Girlfriend are here too.

The last several months have softened inside of me. I feel I am coming back to myself. It has been quiet in my heart and mind which you probably have noticed in my lack of writing. 

The birth of Olivia has brought joy, and Gabriel is love divine...

I am thankful for the lessons of love, faith, and gratitude that my parents taught me. I am thankful for Yann who is the kindest man I know. I am grateful for my children, my health, and my home. I am thankful for you.

Happy Thanks giving.

 

 

Home

 

What speaks my mother's kitchen to me:

- The sugar bowl and spoon, the exact same one since forever, in the exact same place in the cupboard.

- The small old dust brooms laced on a rod for a kitchen curtain.

- The pull-out cutting board.

- The tin cup sitting on the counter that she drinks from everyday.

- The chocolate chips that are "hidden" in the dish towel drawer,

- and those perfectly pressed dish towels.

- Not a single good cutting knife.

- The kitchen faucet with a mind of its own.

- The junk drawer.

- The red checked cookbook.

- Constant children coming in and out,

•                                                                                                      and my mother's baking up a storm.

I am glad to come home to the love that surrounds every inch of my mom's home.

 

 

 

Iron Lace Work in Paris

 

For those of you who do not follow me on Instagram, where I post videos I will be re-posting a few here every now and then.

While walking to and from Chelsea's family's apartment to our apartment in Paris I spotted this amazing protective iron gate, it looked to be a permenate piece.

Unfortunately, and often while I am walking I photography things without marking down where I am at, and no I do not have my location ever on my phone.

Hence, I have an idea where this might be, but I am not certain. Dong Dong.

But isn't it beautiful?

Beaujolais Nouveau

Beaujolais Nouveau, is the first wine of the season to be uncorked. It is a big deal in France. An honored tradition. Every year on the third Thursday of November, you can hear Beaujolais Nouveau being poured, followed by a lively conversation about this years grapes. Predictions are set in place regarding the flavor of Beaujolais Nouveau as an indicator: Is it going to be a good year for wine or not?

The Burgundy Reporter said, "Vintage 2021 – A vintage of frost, hail in places, and much lower yields – the cooler, wetter weather requiring more grape triage but the result is wines that are clean and attractive with good acidity – more elegantly proportioned than the most recent vintages with a stronger spine of acidity."

Christine S. what do you think of this years vintage?

 

(As I rarely drink wine because of migraines which I haven't had since stopping caffeine and alcohol.)

 

Beauty on thé Streets and at the Fleamarket

  

What Would You Add?

A Story Of Survival

Thank you Andrea Waltzer Hames for sharing this with me on FB

 

Michael J. Nadel

· Toronto, ON, Canada  · 

 

 

In Crown Heights, there was a Jew, Yankel, who owned a bakery.

He survived the camps. He once said, “You know why it is that I’m alive today? I was a kid, just a teenager at the time.

We were on the train, in a boxcar, being taken to Auschwitz. Night came and it was freezing, deathly cold, in that boxcar.

The Germans would leave the cars on the side of the tracks overnight, sometimes for days on end without any food, and of course, no blankets to keep us warm,” he said. “Sitting next to me was an older Jew – this beloved elderly Jew - from my hometown I recognized, but I had never seen him like this.

He was shivering from head to toe and looked terrible. So I wrapped my arms around him and began rubbing him, to warm him up. I rubbed his arms, his legs, his face, his neck. I begged him to hang on. All night long; I kept the man warm this way. I was tired, I was freezing cold myself, my fingers were numb, but I didn’t stop rubbing the heat onto this man’s body. Hours and hours went by this way. Finally, the night passed, morning came, and the sun began to shine. There was some warmth in the cabin, and then I looked around the car to see some of the other Jews in the car. To my horror, all I could see were frozen bodies, and all I could hear was a deathly silence.

Nobody else in that cabin made it through the night – they died from the frost. Only two people survived: the old man and me…

The old man survived because somebody kept him

warm; I survived because I was warming somebody else…”

Let me tell you the secret of Judaism. When you warm other people’s hearts, you remain warm yourself. When you seek to support, encourage and inspire others; then you discover support, encouragement, and inspiration in your own life as well. That, my friends, is “Judaism 101”.

 

 

Olivia

 

Olivia the easy birth baby.

who sleeps eats, poops, and repeats.

Cries rarely.

I have only heard her cry twice, once was right before these photos 

were taken and that is why I am laughing, as it was so surreal to hear her cry...

What? Is she ...

"A real baby?"

Four weeks old.

 

The Painting

 

 

Today at an auction house I spotted this painting, or I should say I spotted the detail that I liked about the painting… The ribbon on the foot. For me just painting the foot with a rivet would have been enough.

 

Today at an auction house I spotted this painting, or I should say I spotted the detail that I liked about the painting…

The ribbon shoe on her foot.

For me just painting the foot with a rivet would have been enough.

Later when I posted this painting to my Instagram “gotta be me” a blog reader added this comment which made me laugh out loud!

 

How true! Who takes their shoes off last? 
Even back then they were editing their moments to share to the world. Details matter which usually let’s you see more than just what is at hand.

 

Signs of Love

No questions asked

No reason nor explanation 

 

Just taking it when I see it

holding it to be true

 

You are here that’s all that matters

You brought a smile to my face and I thank you for that

 

Spiritual love is real

Letting the heart be open to it 

 

Healing Love Prayer

so true

so lovely

so simply powerful

remembering that most hold suffering silently 

I hope I can be the friend who notices and helps.

 

Photo message by Instagram Bethany Ciotola

 

Baby Love

Baby Love 

Olivia three weeks old.

Rarely Has This Ever Happened

Went to a flea market today which isn’t unusual for me …

but the prices were absolutely ridiculous,

I wouldn’t pay those prices at a brocante let alone at a flea market where one expects to pay less.

Nevertheless, there were some lovely surprises including their price points.

First time I walked away empty handed. 

 

Tell Someone

Via Adrian Michael Greene on Instagram 

Encore Golden

 

Autumn Walkabout

Season’s constant change

Autumn’s golden crown

Was once Spring’s fertile green

now falling leaves dance around my feet.

 

Good Ideas for Future Challenges

Wow, thank you for the good ideas for future challenges ❤️
Flowers are easy because they are everywhere, plus I had/have years of photos of flowers on file and as Susan commented flowers are happy and bright. I do not know if I could post hands or smiles everyday for a year… but wouldn’t that be lovely?

Of course antiques would be easier for me but maybe wouldn’t bring a bright spot of happiness to most people.

I have a few more months before the two year mark is up.

 

On another note: Isn’t this bakery’s interior charming with its painted glass ceiling and chandelier?

Below our Paris apartment there is a bakery with a painted glass ceiling dating from the 1800s. There is a steady line outside its door everyday. Obviously, their bake goods are delicious, plus their price point gets people in line: 8 euros for a homemade quiche, pizza or an amazing sandwich, plus soup or salade, a dessert and drink. The prices and quality is unbeatable.

Hence the steady line of customers. 

Doors, storefronts and food where some other suggestions.
So I will try to post more on 

 

 

 

A Flower a Day

 

In 2020 I started to post a flower a day on my FB as a way to share faith, hope, love, and thanks.

As a way to dilute the negativity that was around us.

so far I have posted a flower photo each day for

1 year and 229 days.

Why flowers and not brocante is because I started posting flowers when I was stuck in California due to covid.

I am beginning to challenge myself with a new theme for 2022. 

Flowers are easy as they are everywhere, inviting and happy.

Any ideas?

I don't know if I could post another theme... it would be a challenge.

 

What One Can Find at the Brocante

 

What you can find at the brocante  if truth be told is pure delight

the possibilities are endless and surprising.

There are miles and miles of fairs and stacks of boxes and places to go all over France.

The list of things one can find is from simple everyday pieces to the rare and unusual and often at an affordable price.

A great way to see France and learn about its culture and history is to go to the brocante.

 

 

The brocante never ceases to amaze me even if I am a bit jaded by certain things. That is one of the sinkholes to antiquing

the more I learn, the more I know, the more I seek out pieces that are harder and harder to find.

Sure I buy for clients that is my

work and I buy what they ask me to find which is not necessarily those pieces that are hard to find and one of a kind.

Finding things, the hunt, the challenge is what I enjoy most, that is the part of my work that makes the other 60 percent worth it. 

Carrying, packing, accountant, is not so fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All the above photos were taken within a few minutes and within fifteen feet.

Tempted?

If you love antiquing France is your rockstar, bucket list, lover, paradise, happy place.

and if you like bread, wine, and cheese...

Oh la la.

French Antique Guessing Game Answer

 

The Guesses as always are either so clever, or creative, or funny, and this time a correct answer too!

Here are a few guesses

Diogenes said:

A 19th century contact lens holder?,

 

So clever!

 

----

 

Sue H said:

Storage for emergency chocolate

 

Oh but too small to satisfy!

 

----

 

Laura said:

A safe place to put a lost tooth before the tooth fairy comes!

 

This makes me wish I had bought it!

 

----

 

Jennie said:

For crushing pills.

 

teeny tiny ones! but no.

 

----

 

Jennifer Phillipps said:

It almost looks like it might be a spare eyeball, but maybe a bit too big! I really want to know what it is now! Cheers Jennie, NZ

 

WAY too small, think smaller than your pinky finger nail.

 

----

 

jackie said:

I'm stumped.

 

me too

 

----

 

Franki said:

This is the box in which you put your prize marble, an "Aggie", so at least you won't lose all your marbles.

 

Clever! but too small.

 

 

----

 

Laurie SF said:

Opium box?

 

oh that could work.

 

 

----

 

 

TMJ said:

Corey, You always find the most interesting things! Is it a watchmaker's oiler/oil holder?

 

YES YES YES! Bravo! Well done! A Bergeon Watchmaker's Oiler

 

-----

 

How do you use it?

"You dip the tip of the oiler into the oil to pick up a drop and then place it onto the area to be oiled.

Capillary action then pulls the oil onto the watch part. The tips of dip oilers can even be shaped to your preference with sandpaper." via wiki

 

 

 

Here is one on EBAY (photo from EBAY) ANtique Bergeon Watchmaker's Oiler

 

 

Watch a modern oiler to see the difference and understand the beauty of the older one.

 

 

 

 

 

Here is another one on Ebay.

 

More video to see a modern take on the old form.

 

 

Watchmaker's oiler to see more click here.

 

 

Thank you everyone for your guesses and for following me on my brocante adventures.

 

 

 

French Antique Guessing Game

French Antique Guessing Game

I saw this small circular wooden box and had to ask the dealer what it was. Inside the box was a smooth agate that had a tiny bowl-like center.

"Agate enhances mental function, improves concentration, enhances the perception and analytical abilities.

It is a soothing and calming gemstone that heals inner anger, anxiety and helps in the strengthening of relationships.

Physically, Agate addresses visual, digestive, and uterine functions." via wiki 

 

The outer box and its lid were worn and oiled, that is why the wood is so dark, but it wasn't greasy.

 

My first clue, the dealer's stand, was so obvious that literally if it had been a snake it would have yelled out, "SERIOUSLY!"

Why this object jumped out at me is still a mystery that the brocante haunts, "Why to notice this and not that?"

 

Do you know what it is and or what it was used for?

Take a guess in the comment section. xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cassis on thé Sea

A few weeks ago as the seasons were changing places.

a moment was shared with our friends Laurie-Annya and Ian in Cassis

Crystal blue

a few puff clouds

smooth sea.

 

 

 

 

Love Like That

 

 

(Via Christine La Monte’s FB)

 

 

Where to Aim

                              

at the bull's eye?

In the center of the matter?

Or possibly, far away in case, one misses

nothing will be injured?

Do you take a chance on love, do you give it open-handedly, is it a game, has it played its best hand in you? When you grab your arrows, your words, your actions, do you strive to strike the cord that will give way to music?

What arrows do you aim with your heart?

Aiming with love is the only arrow I want to have in my hand.

thankfully I have many lessons to help my aim and need to practice daily.

photo: At the train station in Marseille sit these (the one above is one of many,) large bronze statues, watching passengers come and go, I wonder how many hearts they have struck, how many miles their aims have journeyed? Do you know that somewhere someone is smiling at you? The arrow has been released.

Louis Sixteenth Going Strong

 

    

 

This is a Louis 16th sofa leg, without a ribbon around its knee.

 

The real thing, standing strong even though it hasn't exercised in years.

What is its secret?

The leg is steady on its heel and stands as straight

 as the day it was carved.

How many sofa legs can stand up to that claim?

The hand-woven fabric has endured too.

Do wonders never cease?

Certainly, many couch potatoes have planted themselves here.

Next time you buy something new,

ask yourself will it be around in two hundred years?

Will it look as good then, as it does today?

Those Louis' knew the secret to long-life...

Well not all of them.

Look What the Neighbors are Throwing Out

 

Okay, from now on I am going to post things that I see people are throwing out on the street.

Hence, the title "Look what my Neighbors are throwing out."

Spotted these on the street in Paris.

Mid-century reproduction of the classic frog chairs, yes that is what they are called:

"Fauteuil Crapaud"

usually, the feet are not seen as fabric or passementerie hangs from the seat to the floor... but these are not the real deal.

XIX Louis Philippe Style.

Short legs, large back known for comfort.

It appears that their cat loved them to death.

 

P.S.

Just for the record about Sacha doing that jump on the edge… the other day while working on a documentary.

I said to him,

”Are you trying to scare me?”

He replied, “Yes!”

in which I said,

”Well, you did. Please don’t do that again!”

Sacha reassured me that the photo made it look worse than it was.

" Yeah right," I replied, "I remember when you hung out of a helicopter while filming and used the

safety belt to hold the camera instead of you."

----

 

 

French la Vie Journeys for 2022

 

 

 FRENCH la Vie dates for 2022 

 

Thank you thank you thank you! The dates for the French la Vie 2022 are full. We are going to have fun and I bet you won’t want to go home xxx

 

For the love of brocante and discovering Provence through the lens of  antiquing.

 

 

April 21st - 27th, 2022 Full 

 

May 10th - 17th Full

 

May 24th - 31st, 2022 FULL

 

September 6th - 13th 2022. FULL

 

October 6-13th 2022 Full

 

If you want to have a private week experience or with a group of friends please contact me for details.

 

One week with the French la Vie includes

-Meals, breakfast, lunch, and dinner,

-Private room and shared bath,

-Transport to and from the airport and to the places we will visit,

-Guidance around the brocantes and how to get your purchases back home with you.

3750 Euros for one week.

 

What to expect

Fun

Overload of inspiration

Delicious meals

Meeting artisans and brocanateurs,

Walking, stairs, being outside, visiting private homes in quaint villages,

wishing you had brought fewer clothes to have more room in your suitcase, and full days of exploring.

 

 

 

For more information email me at

coreyamaro@aol.com 

You won't regret one minute!

 

Burst of Autumn’s Glory

  
in the Marais
every Autumn

a spectacular nature show

at

Marianne restaurant

2 Rue des Hospitalières Saint-Gervais, 75004 Paris

 

Notre Dame Report by "The Curbed"

My cousin Joan sent me this article. I hope you will enjoy it.

 

The Curbed ——

 

 Text Shawn Mc Creesh by Photos by Greg Khan

 

“I started getting calls as soon as the fire was put out,” said Rick Brown, standing on the lawn at Catholic University the other day. Brown and his wife, Laura, are the co-founders of Handshouse Studio, an educational nonprofit that replicates large historical objects using the precise techniques with which they were built. In 2011, he led a trip to Poland to rebuild by hand the Gwoździec synagogue, raised in the 17th century and then razed by the Nazis. This time, the calls were about a much bigger house of worship: the Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris, nearly swallowed by an inferno in April 2019. Today, he and his tribe were here with hand axes. A few miles away, on Capitol Hill, Congress was metaphorically hammering out a way to rebuild infrastructure; here, these master builders and apprentices were literally doing the same. The giant oak logs laid out here would soon, perhaps, become hand-hewn pieces of a church.

 

The Curbed

Notre Dame

Text Shawn Mc Creesh by Photos by Greg Khan

In the final pages of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, when Quasimodo scrambles through the rafters of his lair, Victor Hugo wrote in 1831 of the “prodigious timber-work so dense it was called ‘the forest.’” La forêt was a latticework constructed from over 1,300 oak trees, mostly in the 12th century. An electrical short probably started the fire; by the time it was finally extinguished, the cathedral’s twin towers and flying buttresses held, but la forêt and the spire went up like the Hindenburg. Even before the smoke cleared, a debate burst forth about how Notre-Dame would be restored. As Hugo wrote, “Each face, each stone of the venerable monument, is a page not only of the history of the country, but of the history of science and art.” Suddenly, modernists were jockeying to impose some glass-and-steel devilry atop the old dame. One firm proposed rebuilding the roof using plastic recycled from the ocean. Another wanted to put a swimming pool up there. Just imagine how Hugo, who decried the modest cosmetic tweaks to the building done in his time — “In the name of ‘good taste,’ fashion has clapped on the wounds of Gothic architecture the wretched gewgaws of the day,” he wrote — would react to seeing the cathedral transmogrified into a branch of Soho House.

All those ideas were dismissed when, last year, French president Emmanuel Macron decreed that the cathedral be reconstructed just as it had been. Dieu merci, thought traditionalists. Brown knew immediately that he wanted to get in on the reconstruction of la forêt, and knew just whom to dial: François Calame, the head of a group called Charpentiers Sans Frontières, or Carpenters Without Borders. The group acted as a liaison between Brown and the officials at Notre-Dame. They happily sent Brown blueprints of the wooden trusses that made up the attic. He decided he and his group would focus on rebuilding truss No. 6, which stood above the choir and was one of the oldest, and send it to the French as a gesture of American goodwill. It was some 35 feet tall and 45 feet across.

“Each truss is totally unique,” explained Brown. He’s 72, and was quivering with delight in his Stetson and brown vest. “It’s like a story being told, ‘Oh, looks like here the roof was leaking and there’s some kind of failure in the corner joint,’ so they had to scab in some pieces of wood, and you see how the history is really documented. These trusses they built were very ingenious; you can see how they were learning by doing.”

 

Massachusetts College of Art and Design, called on the disparate peoples of the lumberverse to join him. They would assemble in Washington, D.C., where Catholic University would let them crash in dorm buildings and use the grounds in front of its basilica, the largest Roman Catholic church in North America. Members of the Timber Framers Guild; students from the oldest trade school in America, North Bennet Street School; and other characters likely to be covered in Mortise & Tenon magazine all heeded his summons.

 

“What you’re seeing here is very anthropological,” said Brown. “There’s nothing that’s contrivance. All these things are based on how it was done in the 12th century.” He even ordered handmade axes from a blacksmith in France. “Everyone’s been out here just hewing like a son of a gun — it’s really pretty exciting,” he exclaimed.

The sweet smell of sap and fresh wood chippings wafted across the lawn while Ethan Higgins, a lumberjack who had traveled here from Ann Arbor, Michigan, hacked away at a 40-foot white oak. He looked the part, in his suspenders and plaid. It was a sweltering, swampy summer afternoon. A bead of sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose as he announced, “This is so much fun.”

 

“I just love axes,” he added, proudly pointing out that he fashioned the handle of his from hop hornbeam, also known as ironwood. Hewing a nearby log was a man with the uncanny Dickensian name of Will Truax, pronounced “True-Axe.” “I’m using both felling axes and broadaxes,” said Truax, 60. “If you want to get in with any of these guys or gals, just talk tools and they will open their hearts to you,” said Alicia Spence, the project manager. Some of the looks on the lawn that day — knee-high shin guards, pleated pants that were high-waisted and flared, bloodied hands, and plenty of torn plaid — seemed more befitting of Alexander McQueen’s notorious “Highland Rape” runway show than a construction site. “This corner of timber framing lends itself to preservationists,” explained Spence, “so you get the folks who are very deep into traditional stuff, and sometimes that spills into the clothing.”

 

In another corner of the lawn, a group clustered around a copy of a drawing from the year 1111, animatedly debating the merits of Swedish versus Norwegian cleaving techniques. A few feet away stood Charlotte Wampold, 28, who was missing her own graduation from the North Bennet Street School to be here. She said that, once Brown invited her class to get in on the project, “There was really no question. There was just stunned silence and then cheering.”

“The original roof stood for 800 years,” Wampold pointed out. “So if we do our jobs right, that could be the same.”

There was just one little problem. When the truss is completed, no one knows for sure whether the French will actually take it.

The restoration architects, Rick Brown explained, were “so impressed that the Americans were interested in doing this, and [are] really responding favorably to the idea.” But, he added, “they said that at this stage everything is so complicated, and so political, and with so many unknowns” that there was just no telling whether they could accept an overseas shipment carrying truss No. 6. It’s one hell of an undertaking to build on spec.

 

A few days before construction began, the last of the white oaks for the truss were being felled 200 miles southwest of D.C., in Virginia. Smoke from the California wildfires had drifted east, crawling over the Blue Ridge Mountains and hanging in the Shenandoah Valley that day. On the grounds of Ecco Adesso Vineyards, beyond a patch of Riesling and Cabernet Franc grapes, I met Mez Welch on the edge of a sylvan thicket.

He’d spent months finding people like Michael and Cierra Weatherly, the owners of this vineyard, who would donate trees for the project. Then, said Welch, “We spent one month just walking through the woods and handpicking trees that will actually work. You might find two out of a hundred. A lot of shapes curve too much, and you can’t get the straight piece out of ’em that you need.” Diameter matters, too: If the trunk is too wide, “you’ll end up hewing three times as much wood to get to the piece, and we’re doing it in D.C. in July — it’s hellacious work. We’ve struggled so much not just with the physical aspects of this work, but the mental drain of looking at a tree for ten minutes and [thinking] it looks perfect from 14 out of 15 views, and then you notice some weird little kink and it’s terrible.”

Welch, who is 34, was with his friend Ross Beebe, 39. “Yeah, I got sucked into it,” laughed Beebe, lighting up a Winston while he leaned on his axe. “What’s two months of your life?” He eyed up an oak and muttered, more to himself than anyone, “They never look that big — ’til you start beatin’ on ’em.” In keeping with the medieval methods, many of the trees these two cut for the truss were pulled out of the forest by horses. “I called a guy in Floyd County who is like the guru of horse logging and asked him to be involved,” said Welch. His wiry gray hair was pulled back into a bun and he wore black Converse sneakers and jean shorts. Stepping up to a tree, he took his first thwack. “It’s brutal,” he remarked. “Your hands just blister up immediately.”

If all this labor seems crazy for a spec project, you don’t know tree people. I grew up the son and nephew of arborists. Think it was nuts when Michael Jackson dangled baby Blanket out of a window in Berlin? My dad used to put me 45 feet in the air in the little bucket on his DT466 Bucket Truck. I played in mulch. When I got suspended from school, I was made to sweep up behind the crew at stump-removal jobs. These people love trees the way Hitchcock loved a blonde — they love looking at them, and then they love cutting them down.

 

 

So nobody seemed the least bit bothered that their beloved truss might never see the Seine. “The dissemination of all this knowledge as a result of a catastrophic loss — that’s the silver lining here,” said Timothy Farina, 24, a D.C.-based architect who was hewing away on the lawn at the University. “We’re still making history by doing this,” said Welch. “From what we understand, even if this one doesn’t make it, we might be able to build a second one down the line that will.” The French told Brown that, when the plans for la forêt are closer to being solidified, they might call on their friends in America to build another, more exact truss, if they can’t take this one. “So far, they are still very supportive, and we haven’t gotten a thing saying it can’t happen,” said Brown. “So as long as they’re still hanging in there, we’re still hanging in there. And, doing two of these? That just means more people, more hoopla, more excitement.”

Until they knew for sure, this spec truss would come to rest at the National Building Museum for a while. First, though, it needed to be raised. It lay flat on the grass last Tuesday morning, with yellow ropes tied around the beams. His eminence Wilton Cardinal Gregory, Archbishop of Washington, blessed the wood as the basilica’s bell tolled in the background. Everyone grabbed a rope and heaved. It stood.

A lead carpenter stepped forward. “There is a tradition that with a successful raising, there is an honoring of the forest, and an honoring of the wood and of the craft, to send the youngest crew member to the highest spot of the frame to attach a piece of evergreen,” he said. “So in our case, it’s young Nevan.”

Twenty-year-old Nevan Carling pulled himself on to a crossbeam. Victor Hugo wrote that Quasimodo’s intimacy with the cathedral was such that there was “no depth which he had not penetrated, no height he had not scaled. Many a time he had clambered up its front to various elevations with no help except the rough surface of the sculpture.” Now Carling clambered up to the top of the new truss and affixed a sprig of cedar of Lebanon. “It was scary,” he said of the climb, “but I knew where everything was, ’cause we all worked on it together.”

 

 

 

 

Divine

Meanwhile Sacha was Working on a Documentary

 

 

 

 

Sacha worked on a documentary, though I cannot say much more than that.

He went to Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming. These are a handful of photos

he shared on his instagram.

His energy and longing to work in cinema is a reality. How often do we get to do 

what we love and be good at it?

As the saying goes, "When your children are happy you are happy too."

___

Let's stay in touch with what brings us joy!

 

You Know What I Am Going to Post

 

As one can imagine I am gaga over this new little person.

When comparing the two loves

One seems extra tiny and the other oversize.

Everyone is doing well.

Olivia was born in a bathtub at a natural birthing clinic in Paris

where Gabriel was born.

Chelsea's birth story can be summed up like this:

Fast, painless, unless you count two contractions hard, came home a few hours later, and hasn't missed a beat.

 

Four days old.

 

Hanging Out with This Boylo

 

Olivia

o-li-via in French

Photo by Chelsea

Gabriel Adores Olivia

A happy little family.

Gabriel adores Olivia.

 

When Gabriel started to consume solids I would say,

"Mmm, mmm, mmm, yummy for the tummy."

Gabriel started to say this too, especially when something was extra delicious.

He refers to being hungry, or wanting something to eat as, "Yum".

When Gabriel first saw his mother he let out a giggle, nearly leaping out of his father's arms

to get to his mother and his sister. He was very aware that a baby was coming referring to her as Papilotte.

After he kissed the baby he said, "mmm, mmm, mmm." in the sweetest little voice.

My heart melted with tenderness.

 

 

 

Olivia 

(In French it is pronounced with three syllables and in English four I am told.)

Eight pounds.

Born October 21.

Chelsea had a natural, easy, speedy (two hours plus) labor. Amazing. 

Breastfeeding.

 

Nobody guessed name, date, weight, and hair correctly in the guessing game.

Though some of you did guess the name, and a few the date, even fewer the weight...

Original I thought Ophelia, 10 lbs, October around the full moon and no hair.

 

 

 

Hours old.

Thank you for supporting our family with love and kindness.

Overload to happiness.

Someone was Born Today

Five Seconds with Gabriel at the Park

 

Climbs up the wooden playground structure.

 

 

 

Takes it in.

 

 

In that sponge-like brain, he soaks it in

Sound, color, elements, people's expressions, he feels the energy, processes, absorbs.

Because every second is a learning moment and play is important.

 

 

 

Content.

Safe.

 

 

 

Check.

 

Turns around and goes down.

Then we went and ate a crepe.