Posted at 09:22 AM in Brocante, Living in France | Permalink | Comments (1)
A magic lantern of sort
from the 1700s
Just that is magical, if not amazing.
What do you wish for, desire for, and long for? Does it matter?
Is letting the Genie out like letting Pandora out?
Is it true to be careful what you wish for?
Am I overthinking this morning?
Or is the brocante taunting me with all its good stuff?
Posted at 09:16 AM in Brocante | Permalink | Comments (3)
The little family went to the woods for a picnic.
The little sister found delight in being outdoors, hearing the sounds of nature, and sitting at the big wooden picnic table.
The older brother, but still little, worried, knowing the story of "Red Riding Hood."
He asked as he held tightly to his father's hand,
"Are you sure, really sure, that there are no wolves around?"
I suppose I might have shared those "big eyes and big teeth," overly exaggerated.
Note: Gabriel LIVES in his soccer outfit and bike helmet.
Photos by Chelsea
Posted at 09:04 AM in The Baby to Be | Permalink | Comments (1)
A broken statue of an angel, part of its wing is attached. Otherwise, I might have assumed it was Jesus.
A sense of spirituality washes over me, life is imperfect, and spirituality reminds me of the invisible hand of healing and grace I can take hold of to guide me.
The pink gown folds with elegance, and the head is missing along with the upper torso, giving way to the invisible heart exposed as if prayers of those who had come before me slip into the open air, a pathway to another person's journey.
Reminding me that even in brokenness, I am not alone; there is a well-worn path, of tears, of other's lives lived before me. I hold on to the hand of the soul of love.
Posted at 08:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)
Squeezing the grapefruit
pink juice dripping into the chipped cafe au lait bowl
I stood in front of the kitchen sink, bowl in hand, like a chalice raised.
The sky a brilliant blue painting the day, and the sun barely adding its voice
In that morning light, I took in the offering.
Sweet fulfillment
Gulps of gratitude
For another day to learn to be all that it gives us
As Rilke would say,
"You must give birth to your images; they are the future waiting to be born."
Posted at 10:45 AM in Living in France | Permalink | Comments (2)
Gabriel has a friend. A friend is a man who works as a cashier at the little grocery store next to their apartment in Paris. The cashier has befriended Gabriel by talking to him whenever he comes in, "Hello Gabriel, how are you today? What do you have? What are you doing? Where is Mom? Is this your grandmother?" He encourages him to talk with a question. Of course, at first, Gabriel was shy. Still, over time, he’s become buddies, and now when he goes into the grocery store, he runs to the cashier man going into his stall; with a giggle, he knows he has a friend ready to engage with him, and whatever the cashier man is doing, he stops happily talks to Gabriel, "Hey, buddy, what’s new? What do you have you been doing today? How is your sister? How was school today? Whoever is waiting at the checkout counter stands anxiously and waits, but that does not bother Gabriel and the Cashier. Those who live in the neighborhood expect it; it is their grocery store. It is more than a grocery store; it is a meeting place.
At the market in Cassis, two women sell their vegetables directly. The vegetables are fresh, beautiful, in abundant often; I’ve asked for recipes, as many locals do, and their recipes have a traditional Provencal flair. They have gladly shared them with me. I enjoy cooking and hearing different tricks and flavors about it. I wondered how they made their traditional PISTOU soup; each person has a slightly different take. Graciously, she shared her recipe as if we were sitting and having a coffee at a café; "I do not put tomato in mine; I use potato instead of pasta; make your pesto, and add the rind of the Parmesan to the vegetables as they simmer, it adds flavor..." the people in line becoming agitated, most of them tourists, forgetting to slow down, wanting to buy and go, the other locals were listening and adding their two cents to the recipe, as I expected they would. One of the tourists huffed, "Please, hurry up. This is taking too long. Can you do this later?" In which the vendor turned to her with a rebuttal, "Look, this is a community. I’m not here only to sell my homegrown vegetables but to be part of the community. We talk, we share recipes, we laugh, we ask about each other’s children; if you want something fast, there’s a grocery store around the corner, go there, buy your food, but if you want to have a conversation, if you want to buy from my stand, you might have to wait a while."
Gabriel skips happily to the grocery store in the big city, and the cashier bends down to greet him and personally treats Gabriel as if they’re best buddies; they are, creating community. The other day Gabriel took him a drawing, one of his unique drawings of suns and flowers. The cashier was so touched. He talked to Gabriel for at least five minutes. They spoke of the details, the colors in his drawing, and the kindness of sharing.
Life as it should be, community-oriented, kind, and sharing of time.
Posted at 10:50 AM in Living in France, The Baby to Be | Permalink | Comments (15)
The advantage of living in France , is that when my groups come we are able to go beyond the facade, to the real deal, off the beaten path, and visit my French antique dealer friends, look in their stash and share meals with them.
Each group that comes makes the experience unique and I am thankful for their trust in me to provide them with a delightful experience xxx
Posted at 10:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Hanging out with this group of artisans has been delightful.
Taking a minute pause. Easy going. Taking the heat in stride.
They would rather shop than eat.
They pick things out for each other and share their finds.
No competition. It is incredible to witness.
Gamed for photo opts
They would probably jump into the river if I asked them too, but most likely because it would be a break from the warmth.
Sun up to Sunset
more brocante to come xx
Posted at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)
Sweet-filled with everything good?
Gabriel runs up to me for one reason only,
Hugging my leg, he kisses my thigh;
if I am sitting on a chair, he kisses my arm,
and if we are face-to-face, he holds it in his hands and kisses it.
At first, I did not understand why he was kissing my thigh...
Gabriel's habit of kissing wherever he can reach
It is a testament to the eternal nature of a child's love.
His innocence blesses me.
To love without waiting for the right place or time.
Posted at 11:48 PM in The Baby to Be | Permalink | Comments (10)
Posted at 08:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Gabriel stood by me in the kitchen and asked if I could have some "Siri-O-O-O." As I didn't have a clue what he was talking about, bending down to his level, I asked him to repeat what he said. Still, I could not figure it out. So I asked him to show me what he wanted. He went to the cupboard, opened it, and pointed to the cereal.
Okay, I like that word Siri O-O-O. I am not going to correct him!
He usually asks if I have chocolate crunchy cereal (that I buy just for us: COCOA PUFFS!) and used to use the French pronunciation for chocolate and cereal. Although, since he started speaking English to me, he just said it in a cuter version without meaning to be cute.
Yes, Gabriel has started to speak English to me. It is the beginning, and darling to hear him structure his sentences and find his words.
Gabriel speaks only French to everyone else, even his Mother, who has never spoken French to him. He told her, "Maman, you no longer need to speak English to me. I know it now and will speak to Vavie." He said that in French.
Oh, raising bilingual children is an adventure. Even though when Chelsea and Sacha were young, and I did not speak French, it was challenging to have them speak English together.
xxx
Posted at 09:07 PM in Living in France | Permalink | Comments (11)
A classic sidewalk cafe in Paris
A table for two with an iron base and a round marble top.
Two colorful wicker chairs, side by side.
Wherever you are in Paris, it is a classic sight and has been for more years than I am old.
But now, a new trend is out and about ...
Young dolled-up INSTAGRAMMERS called INFLUENCERS.
Are they "influencing" to come to Paris by striking a pose, wearing high heels, a beret of any color other than the basic black or blue, and carrying a baguette as an accessory, smiling with a pout for all three seconds?
They then look at the small screen to be sure they look good and redo the photo if needed.
Post it if they look good.
Then they race off to another scenic postcard opportunity:
Buy a croissant, and sit at a sidewalk cafe.
Emily in Paris is an understatement.
By the way, very few French people wear colorful berets,
and one only carries a baguette to take it home to eat.
Posted at 11:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)
As Gabriel and I walked home from the park, we saw a man sitting on the ground with a bucket full of Lily of the Valley, selling them for 2.50 Euros a bouquet.
Gabriel buried his face in them, and declared they were the best flowers he had ever smelled. He told me he loved me more than all the flowers in the world, and considering how he buried his face in those flowers as if we walked home it means the sweetest type of love.
Little boy with your dinosaur T-shirt, red chipped fingernail polish, and a head full of the most beautiful locks you told your mother, that you loved her more than all the rooftops in the world. I take that to mean the most secure and safe type of love because it represents home.
Motherhood, for me is a extraordinary journey, starting with a moment of desiring a child, having my womb grow where I cradled it in my arms, the birthing experience, first steps, first words and utter joy of watching them grow, and everything in between those moments, to their finding their own path.
It continues and I am thankful for the gift of sharing life.
Thank you Mom for leading the way and gracing my life with your unbelievable wisdom, and faith.
Posted at 09:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)
Home.
That is where my heart goes,
That is where I find my roots that hold me in place,
That is where the long road ends, where the green never seems less green.
Home is where my soul knows no bounds, and my arms never tire.
Home, that is where I am when I feel the distance between the
Here and now, I don't have words, nor do I need them.
Home is no longer an external place; it is within me. It rises from the core of my being,
Like a spring that goes beyond space and time.
Posted at 10:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)
There’s something about this painting that reminds me of Olivia. Chelsea and Yann think the same thing.
They don’t have the same nose, Olivia doesn’t have any hair, they are far from the same age, yet there’s something about that little mouth that little smooch, and most definitely it is their eyes.
I bought the painting time will tell.
Posted at 08:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)
Tom wrote:
"Shortcake, strawberries, and whipped cream!" We agree simple is the best. Allowing the strawberries to flaunt their deliciousness without being crowded by extras.
"Dip the strawberry in sour cream, then brown sugar." wrote Judy Wilcox. I must admit that French strawberries do not need sugar, but sour cream does sound like a favorable mix.
Then Mary Ann said the same thing! It is a thing! "A bowl of fresh strawberries…washed & hulled…served with a large dollop of a sour cream & brown sugar mixture! 😋"
Linda sent me this must-try recipe; I like how she added you need to make two pies!
LINDA’S STRAWBERRY PIE
I doubled the Whipped Cream Frosting recipe below. I bought a quart of Heavy Whipping Cream and used it all for the two pies.
I sliced the strawberries because it is easier to cut the pie.
Ingredients for 2 pies (one is just not enough): 1 – quart of Heaving Whipping Cream
2 – pints of fresh strawberries
2 – 8-ounce packages of cream cheese at room temperature (YOU CANNOT USE THE FAT FREE, SO DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!)
1/2 – Cup of Sugar (add more sugar if you want it sweeter)
2 – Teaspoons of Vanilla
2 – Graham Cracker, Chocolate, Oreo Cookie, or Shortbread pie crusts
I rub a whole lot of cinnamon into the entire pie crust, including the sides.
Whipped Cream Frosting
2 – cups heavy whipping cream 1/2 – cup sugar, powdered 10x 1 – teaspoon of Vanilla
Place mixing bowl and balloon whisk in freezer for 10 minutes. Combine cream and sugar in the chilled bowl fitted with the balloon whisk. Whisk on medium until stiff peaks form, about 3 minutes. Be careful not to over-whisk the cream, or you may make sweetened butter.
You must make the whipping cream first.
Add the cream cheese, sugar, and vanilla to the whipping cream. Blend until smooth.
Clean the strawberries and drain them on paper towels until dry. Slice and place them in the pie crust. Then fill the pie crust with the whipped cream cheese filling and place the pies in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours or longer, and your pies are ready to serve.
Gabriel a few moments in time ago.
Vicki shared a sweet strawberry memory,
Lemon mascarpone single-crust pie with fresh strawberries or raspberries. Although I was a kid picking strawberries for 25 cents a crate, mom packed vanilla cream cookies, which we would twist open and lay a big, juicy strawberry in the middle, put the top back on, and eat out sweet treat “sandwich.”
My friend Mo who create the most beautiful pottery, simply adds into a bowl.
Posted at 03:07 PM in Movable Feast | Permalink | Comments (2)
after the fun of buying at the Brocante for a week, especially with two women who said they weren’t going to buy much, the challenge begins of packing everything to send.
these women know how to have fun and every opportunity.
even when it rains in Cassis, which is rarely does, they were enjoying every moment that France has to offer. Nothing damper their spirit.
Thank you for perfect week Lordes, Christen, and Jeanette.
Posted at 11:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)
L. came on thé French la Vie because her friend was coming. But days before the French la Vie her friend fell and had to cancel, L. Isn’t a shopper except Ashe likes vintage clothes, and wore everything she bought. Then the brocante bug bit her!
C. Did not know what a brocante was. She found out. The two of them joked about buying a cart to care everything.
There is a brocante bug!
Rarely, do I look at vintage clothing.
But L. is showing me me how interesting it can be.
C. bought this massive clockface painting, and also a rug three times large than this gigantic painting,
Smalls haven’t caught her eye.
Yet.
J. In thé background is a buyer and has an successful ETSY shop.
Three peas clicked.
The best groups do and that makes the French la Vie more fun!
Posted at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Posted at 11:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
The nightbird sings outside my window under a full moon,
Flowers in full bloom, scent my room.
The end of another wonderful day with a group of women on the French la Vie.
Sharing Provence, exploring brocante wherever I take them, and feeling like we have known each other for longer than the last 48 hours. How can that be? It is fortunate.
Blogging has brought me such goodness.
My life has been enriched by meeting so many of you.
Long my it be so I can meet more of you.
Posted at 11:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Posted at 11:09 PM in French la Vie Creative Journeys | Permalink | Comments (2)
Ready, steady, let’s go!
I’ve checked off my list. The rooms are ready. The garden is full of roses May is a lovely time of the year. I’m excited to see what poppy fields we find. Yann calls them, “puppy fields”!
I get a little nervous to meet my new group. As a friend said, it’s like stage fright. I know what I’m doing. I just don’t knowI am what the audience will think.
Tomorrow’s the big adventure. I’ll be posting a lot on Instagram and my Facebook page. I’ll ,try to put photos here but it just takes so long so I seem to put more photos on the other site.
Here I am hair a mess. No make up, not wearing black and very happy. Since I started the medication for my chronic asthma, I feel like 1 million bucks. Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers they felt like warm hugs.
Ever since I started the medication for my chronic asthma, I feel like a million bucks. Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers they felt like warm hugs.
Let’s go!
Posted at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)
Click on the link below to see Gabriel dance ballet after seeing Swan Lake. He proudly pointed his toes, and guided me to video his movements , “Especially, look at my face.”
We went outside, on the port in Cassis, to dance which he freely did for about ten minutes. No inhibition, pure feeling, expressed with innocent sincerity. Sweet little child!
Typepad, my platform for my blog, is not letting me add the video here. If anyone can help me with blogging/Coding/Tech stuff, I will gladly host you in Provence! I am in need of a personal assistance (must be able to drive in France.)
Posted at 10:08 PM in The Baby to Be | Permalink | Comments (17)
Puff pastry is the key,
Leftover confit tomatoes, is it honestly possible to have leftover confit tomatoes?
An insane amount of chopped parsley with some garlic,
Why not add radishes to the leftover mix and cherry tomatoes cut in halves.
Plus, half of a camembert was scattered in pieces here and there.
A bit of leftover confit tomato olive oil at the bottom of the jar also went onto the tart.
It was thin but packed a flavorful punch.
The inventive mix is the way I like to cook.
Posted at 11:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)
Posted at 10:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)
All the things I love about France I share with my groups. Antiquing is at the top of the chart, but the gift of friendship with French antique dealers invites us into their homes and partake in a home-cooked meal together. what better way to experience France, than to be able to go into someone’s home not understand a word, and yet walk away with a deep sense of community and togetherness and at the same time, be able to take home an antique souvenir.
I am grateful beyond measure to have this experience.
Posted at 08:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)
“Its origins date back to the 13th century but it appeared in the 15th century with the emergence of a legend: during the second wedding of King René (Count of Provence) with Jeanne de Laval, known for never smiling, the court pastry chef created this confection especially for the new queen who, after tasting it, became joyful. A courtier then asked his neighbor what could have given the queen so much pleasure, to which he replied: "Di Calin Soun" which means "These are hugs".
Since the first Sunday of September, the blessing of calissons is celebrated in the Church of St. John of Malta (jewel of Provencal Gothic art nicknamed "The Holy Chapel of the South") to commemorate this funny legend. At the same time, the calisson has become the gastronomic emblem of Aix: it is one of the 13 Provençal Christmas desserts and is available in several different flavors today.”
https://commedesfrancais.com/
Pissaladiere; It is often compared to pizza. The dough is usually thicker than that of the classic pizza Margherita, and the traditional topping consists of caramelized onions, black olives, and anchovies (whole, and sometimes also with pissalat, a type of anchovy paste.)
(Made for us especially by my friend Delphine.)
Lunch outside with these lovely women who joined me on the French la Vie.
Posted at 11:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)
Posted at 10:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)
Day two
A wonderful group that makes all the difference.
Instant friends,
passionate about brocante, enjoying the moment, and being in Provence.
We visited a charming village in Cotignac and hit up all my favorite places and private addresses. Who doesn't like to look beyond the facade and visit private homes, and meet the French? I am fortunate that my friends share their lives and collections with my groups.
We started early and stayed up after dinner talking about life.
I was hoping to post ten or fifteen photos, but it takes too long, and
It is too late, tomorrow is around the stars, is that the sun coming up?
I need to sleep to be in the game.
But happiness is a good motor.
Thank you for following along!
Posted at 11:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)
First day of the first group of the year. The four women who are here have been a wonderful group from the moment we met. The van was packed, from top to bottom, with their purchases of the day, under the seats, on the seats, in the trunk, and on their laps, and at times I wondered if we were going to fit! I hope they like packing.
We came home to unload, have dinner, share stories, and now counting how many hours before we are back at it again.
Maryland,
San Fransico
Canada
and
Michigan!
Lovers of the old, the brocante, and France.
They got my number.
More photos will be on my stories on Instagram and Facebook.
But now I must sleep.
Posted at 11:54 PM in Brocante | Permalink | Comments (3)