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01 August 2016

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A monarch butterfly alights upon the purple coneflower and the bees buzz about the lavender ~ our sunny garden's afternoon delights

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I truly love your blog
It's the best...just like you!!

Marie de France determined to keep Breton lais alive developed a unique style in the late 1100s to bring the traditional folktales to the aristocratic courts. She focussed on love and its completely natural assault on our senses. Delightful and edifying still.

I have just returned home from my daughter's house in North Carolina where she is working towards her PhD to become a French professor. While I was there I she had me paint the walls of one room with a lovely excerpt by Alphonse de Lamartine that begins...le livre de vie est le livre suprême.
With the mystery of who owned the little book, the monogram, the pretty fabric added to it in a way your's too is le livre de vie!

Page Turner

A glance, a second look,
Maybe just another book

Pick me up, hold me now
Stories soon will all spill out

Take me home, hear with care
Lessons on life, there’s wisdom here

Pass me along, so I can shine
Another’s path with truth sublime

My favorite poem (because it says it all...)

Peonies by Mary Oliver:

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

As convenient as e-books are, what with not taking up shelf space or needing to be bought or shipped from faraway countries, they lack that fabulous finger feel of old paper and the delicious scent of stories and knowledge. New books smell nice, happy, full of hope. But old books are intoxicating.

I agree. I love a real book or magazine. I like to make lists in pretty little notebooks and keep a diary even as I can't live without this computer. It is touch screen and a week ago I must have bumped something and now my facebook is in French. I do not know French and so I can't read anything to change it back. I guess I'll learn a few words over time. It does look pretty when the notification emails come in.

I spent the weekend at a workshop, wth an amazing artist. It was a joy to watch him paint. His strokes were so fluid, they glided across t canvas. He chose his colors carefully, giving each one much thought. They were so pure and so clean. The scene before us slowly began to unfold under his brush. We were all so inspired and eager to begin our own work. As we all struggled in our own way with our painting, he came around and offered us advice. His talent became more obvious as the day progressed.

Last night I had to confront fear again. I am a midlife female firefighter student. We had a confined space drill. Full gear, on an air pack going through the tightest of spaces for about 15 feet. Dark, cramped and only one way to go - through.
Control your breathing, do not panic even though your helmet keeps hitting the sides. Face to the ground - you can do this.
Oh, it wasn't pretty. I was a hot mess at the end of it.
The thought that a life might be saved by my doing this is my motivation.

Someone once said if you own a book, you are among the richest people in the world. You have had an education to be able to read. You have the means to buy a book. And you have the leisure time to read. How fortunate we are!

Lavender Fields

Such lavender came
while sleepy....

Meadows found their voice in bloom,

With Song....
softly heard.

LV

Books, like proverbs, receive their chief value from the stamp and esteem of ages through which they passed. William Temple 1881-1944

all of these comments are so wonderful....I am a reader between the lines-cannot sing dance paint or the like-but I have been blessed with that ability-and was always flabbergasted when others did not "see"-that is when I realized it was a gift-and like everything has its good and its bad-have spent the last 2-going on 3 weeks tending to my dad's heath-88-soon to be 89-reading between the lines....

Today is my birthday, Corey. I was born in 1949.

Tell me I am not old.

[now THAT would be a fable! ]

I noticed my husband standing on the bathroom scale, sucking in his stomach. “That’s not going to help,” I said.

“Sure, it does,” he said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”

I have a lovely copy of Aesop's fables bound in leather, a gift from my sister. She loves books as much as I and gives me classics in beautiful leather bindings. But I also have a few old books covered in fabric. They are beautiful to me, too. This copy would be as treasured as the others. And maybe improve my French.

STUNNING!

A friend is a friend when he is
noble;
a friend is an imposter when he is
sly.

What did the grape say when the elephant stepped on it?
Nothing, it just let out a little 'wine'! I love the simple ones... Warmest summer greetings from the back country of Vermont!

Peace and love to all of you for your comments. They brought a smile to my face today.

I have NEVER written poetry in my life until my friend told me a story about her great Aunt who had passed away. Story goes that this great Aunt found herself with child when she was a young woman. Her family sequestered her away until she gave birth to a baby boy. This child was given up for adoption with her having no say in the matter and she was never "the same" again. She lived out her life being shuffled around between the homes of her relatives. Apparently she spent her days knitting tiny, blue, baby booties and lining them up in rows.
I couldnt get this story out of my head and then one morning inspiration visited me and traveled down my arm and into my hand and penned this poem..


Memories wrap around her
Like an empty embrace
Decisions made In her name
Forever marked her being

Kept aloft in this lifetime
By the song of the needles
Click clack click clack they sing
Familiar tune played out
The passage of time

Shades of blue slipped through her fingers
As did the years of longing
Sweet, sweet face knit in
Each tiny bootie

Sleep now, peace be yours

I love poems, fables and books. Lots of great things shared so far by others. Lately I have been feeling a bit blue - aggravated with my job and worrying too much about money. I went to visit a dear friend in Arkansas last week who moved away in 2015. We went to a small town and visited an antique shop. The owner & I automatically clicked as if we knew each other a long time. Two weeks ago someone broke into her store and stole all her money out of the cash register, yet she was still smiling and told me she was confident that God would see her through this ordeal. In fact she received a call from a construction co. 3 days after the robbery happened about a house about to be leveled that had tons of antiques & collectibles inside, and she was more than welcome to take whatever she wanted to sell in her store. The moral of this story is that I need to stay strong in my faith and know that He will see me through my struggles.

"History has its' eyes on you...who lives who dies who tells your story?"
-Hamilton the musical.
Lin- Manuel Miranda

My friend and I keep guestbooks. We have been doing this for 25 years. After awhile,as we visit each other almost every week,we began to run out of things to say. So now our books are full of all kinds of things which may have nothing to do with the visit. We often wonder about the person who will someday find them on a yard-sale table. What will they make of us?

Truer words were never spoken than by a 7-yr old great-niece.... "you look weird without eye makeup"

Allowables
-Nikki Giovanni

I killed a spider
Not a murderous brown recluse
Nor even a black widow
And if the truth were told this
Was only a small
Sort of papery spider
Who should have run
When I picked up the book
But she didn't
And she scared me
And I smashed her

I don't think
I'm allowed

To kill something

Because I am

Frightened

Good luck, G. I understand.

Thank you so much for your kind understanding!

Thank you to everyone.....this has been amazing reading all of this.
Corey...look what you have achieved....

Ali

I strive to tell pure tales in this way. To create original folktales that will leave in the viewer forever a sense of wonder at their world. Did I see what I thought I saw? Yes. In reality? It doesn't matter.

Love you.

You remain in my thoughts dear g X.

Hahahah love it!

Cute ; )

voting for kirk.. corey sending hugs and love..

I love this story and will remember it always. Thank you Dawn.

thank you for your kindness my friend!

Wow-reading these made my morning! Nikki gave me chills. Tricia made me laugh out loud. I cheered for Toni. I pick Toni because courage is not about feeling brave. And she taught me something--bringing fragile children into this terrifying and beautiful world is a lot like going into a burning building.

I was born in 1949, Judy, although in December. Two months ago, I had brain surgery to resolve unrelenting pain from a nerve at the base of my brain that had been compressed by blood vessels. My life feels new, not old, and yours is, too.

Such lovlies! I am always tuning in too late for these things!
:o)

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French la Vie Creative Journeys in France. Please join me in 2020 to learn more click here
French La Vie started in 2005, I have the "Brocante Bug" which means antiquing is my cure, France can do me no wrong when it comes to treatment ° 32 years living in France with my French Husband that I met while dancing in San Francisco ° Two children, now in their late-twenties, amour et joie ° Come join our journey either vicariously through my blog, or on a French La Vie Week Retreat in Provence °
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