Soar-Dream-France

Wind, Work and Without

The older I get the more I believe that schedules, lists and plans are put in place purely for that illusion of control...what did I write recently about life happening while we're making plans?

The wind began on Wednesday. These were not just any winds. They roared up the valley and behind the Chatette at what seemed hurricane strength to me. Moving items that could turn into projectiles to safety, I felt like one of those news anchor people in the wind waiting for the rain of the hurricane to arrive. At night, it sounded like I lived in the middle of Wuthering Heights and Cathy was calling to Heathcliff!

I've experienced them here before so Wednesday didn't worry me too much. I still had time to do what I needed to do outside. Thing is...they hung around till Friday evening and most of Friday our electricity was on and off. My five days have turned into two. I am moving forward. Our candles kicked in and helped me to center. I did things that needed to get done and could be done without electricity. I triaged my list once more and dropped items that would have been nice to do, but just really weren't life and death essential. As much as I love blogging and would like to do it right up to the time I go...it isn't life and death essential. So, this is a bientôt y'all for now. I'll be back when I'm back.

Walnut Well-ness

As if a return to the states with Dali and Sam and family in crisis in St. Louis weren't enough to contend with; last night went to "hell in a hand basket" as my Mom used to say. Between 8pm and 11pm last night the list felt endless and overwhelming. I am a morning person, so this is NOT my best time to be handling difficult situations in the states over the phone and by email. I've discovered that reading and searching for walnuts are two activities that get me back on track.

Finally off the phone at 11pm, all I wanted was an Irish Coffee and chocolate. I had a lot of coffee and milk, a little whiskey, and no whipped cream which made for one limping along Irish Coffee and there was not an ounce of chocolate in the house...not enough for someone who by that time was ready for death (or at least very deep sleep) by Irish Coffee and Chocolate. Turned out, one light was just enough. Morning came. I read. I walked with Dals, and I wandered the walnut way. It's therapeutic for me.

Even though we aren't going to be here to enjoy them this winter, I plan to leave them drying on othe terrace because I know that my birdie birds, mouse and red squirrel will be happy for a little extra easy winter nourishment. And besides, they're so pretty.

Supervisors on the Job

There are lots of jobs around here that need supervising. I'm lucky to have more supervisors than I know what to do with. Yesterday's tunnel and cave door varnishing project had Dali and Lucie on the patio barking messages and Sam up in her favorite window spot making sure I didn't venture too far from the task at hand. I do have a tendency to wander!

After tiny cries from the terrace, I balanced my brush on top of the can and went upstairs to see what was up. My supervisors had had enough so they went inside. When I returned, my brush was gone. No, not really...it had fallen into a full can of varnish! I fished it out, wiped the excess on my nasty overalls and just kept moving. Good thing I first-coated both doors, because then the rain came.

We'd worked hard. Everyone was tired. I sat at the table with a glass of red wine and could hear little woofs at my feet from Dali's dreams on the floor, Lucie snoring like a truck driver from the sofa, and Sam back under the covers of my bed sighing and blowing sweetly. What a wonderful symphony of supervisors!

Peace, Power and Protection

The light sneaks into St. Etienne in Cajarc so nicely. Even though our St. Etienne is smaller than the Cathedral in Rocamadour it is just as beautiful...maybe just because it's ours.

I usually just go in to light my thank you candle and sit a while with St. Therese, but on this day I wandered around a little more and caught the light a little differently than in the past. It felt soft, nurturing, comforting, and yes- holy.

Even though we are returning to the states, I seem to thank St. Therese of Lisieux for the same things...bringing us to this place, learning to take pleasure in the simplest of things, learning to live in the flow of life, and just generally being grateful for all. There is a huge gratefulness in being able to feel the flow and know that even though you may have to do things you'd rather not do at the moment, there is a power you cannot see at work and it will all become clear at some point. I've known since May that we might have to go back to the states for a longer period of time. It became clear to me as time went on that there was more to this return than just (ha-ha) needing to work and be with Dali. I try to pay attention to those feelings. I don't usually know what it is at the time, but I know it when I see it. It's here.

There's a sense of peace, power and protection for me in knowing, but not knowing. I also know...there could be more. This may not be the only "it"!

 

 

Healing Love Of Our Four-Legged Families

As Dali has gotten older and I'd been going off to work around Europe more, my Mom used to say to me regularly: "Oh, I wish I could take care of Dali for you." We both knew that she has her hands full with Dad, and Dali being under foot of a walker could never be good.

I originally hesitated going to St. Louis first for a number of reasons, one of which was that I knew having Dali and Sam in the house would be way too stressful for Mom and Dad. But now, the circumstances are a little different. Dali, Sam and I will be able to be home with Mom in the evenings.

I don't care what anyone says, these wonderful members of our family are very tuned in to us and others. I'll never forget watching Dali go over to Jean's Toby boy as he laid on our sofa the day before he died. She was so sweet and gentle with her friend. She walked around him, nuzzled him a little, and gave him a sweet kiss that turned out to be goodby. Having Dali and Sam with me after the storm held my sanity together. Dali spent a lot of her time licking tears from my eyes. When last summer was so hard for me, Lucie would let me hold her in my lap and she'd lick the tears away. And so as we head to St. Louis soon, I turned to Dali and said: "Well Dal, it looks like we're going to be going home to help Mom." I can already see the two of them. Dal will nuzzle her hand for a pet. She'll saddle up to Mom while she's sitting on the sofa and lick her hand. And I wouldn't be a bit surprised if pretty soon Mom's going to want to be feeding Dali and giving her her medications. They'll be taking care of each other. That's my Mom. That's my Dal. And I'll just enjoy watching them both do what they do best-love and take care of others.

Open, Closed, Moving and Flexibility in Planning

Talking to my brother Jim on the phone a couple of weeks ago, he shared with me how much he liked a quote by John Lennon. I don't think I have it exactly right, but the jest of it is "Life is what's happening while we're making plans." I'm a planner. I've been making quite a few of them lately. Fortunately, I've been taking this trip to the states a step at a time and had planned to book my rental car and hotel between Atlanta and New Orleans during this week prior to departure.

On Friday morning, my Dad fell and had to be taken to the hospital. He's come out of surgery on his broken left ankle well, has something less serious with his right ankle and a number of other spots to keep an eye on. Even when he is ready to come out of the hospital, he will be going to a rehabilitation center before he can come home. After talking to Kat, I've decided that Dali and Sam and I will be heading to St. Louis from Atlanta instead of to New Orleans. I don't have any major commitments in New Orleans until the middle of November, and I'm happy that we have the flexibility to come and be there as life is happening.

So, I continue varnishing. With the shutters and front door finished, I'm moving to the lower terrace doors and the upstairs bannisters. All of the flowers from the barn, lavoir and land have been moved to the front porch for easier watering, my roses continue to bloom through the rain and the dew, and we are grateful for learning from this wonderful place to live a little better in that life that is happening around us while we make plans.

Profound Discoveries in France Profunde

Back during my first summer here in 1998, I spent a lot of time wandering around the Lot with Jean-Luc. Greg has since joined us on our wanderings. Yesterday we wandered well. I'm never sure where we'll end up, but as we went further and further into the forest I said over and over: "J'ai confiance en Jean-Luc" (I trust Jean-Luc.)

Two and a half hours, 10kms, mud up to the top of my boots and ankles of my tights, brown polka dots on my skirt from Vanille's high speed muddy puddle runs, and numerous bathroom breaks au naturale (et sans papier) in the shrubs for everyone, I began to say: "Je n'ai pas confiance en Jean-Luc." After many turns, regaugings of our course and promises that "this is a shortcut", I jokingly began to call my friend "Monsieur Raccourci"-Mr. Short-Cut. Everyone was thrilled to see Greg's Land Rover waiting for us half-way up our hilly road out of the forest.

Somewhere between dreams of Robin Hood and the Wizard of Oz, I began to think we were in the Emerald Forest and had to be reminded of those green places where those other two guys lived. I knew I was in trouble when I began to look for Robin Hood. Jean-Luc said Robin Hood is Robin du Bois in French. So my band of merry men and I, returned to Tour de Faure very late for lunch, tired and dirty. How lucky Odile had pairs of pantoufles (slippers) waiting for our very muddy feet. It wasn't the Sherwood Forest and we weren't "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", but it was a day with my friends I will carry to the states with  me and cherish always! I'm sure you'll agree when you see the photos! Happy Saturday!

Getting Red

In the midst of getting ready to go...everything around me is turning red.

It's all so pretty and cheerful. I took off yesterday on a little hunt for the red in the hood. I'm sure there will be more in the coming days to share, but I didn't want to let time or color escape me. Enjoy!

 

 

 

Healthy is Wealthy

On a visit to Paris in the early 90's, I remember walking across one of her many bridges at a nice clip on my way to the Rodin Museum. Most days I preferred walking everywhere, and that day was one of those. A couple of women in jogging suits and tennis shoes with grey hair and glasses were coming toward me from the other side. As they passed I thought: Isn't it wonderful that I got to come to Paris at a relatively young age so I can enjoy her on foot.

Since then I've traveled with my Mom and older friends. I've come to realize it's not about age, it's about being healthy. Mom and I walked all over Paris together. Frankly, walking can be easier than all that up and down and around the metro. Jean and I hiked to the top of Montsegur in the Pyrenees.

 And there we were again at Rocamadour last week, with all it's ups, downs, arounds and new discoveries. Marina, Jean and I started from the top parking lot. Marina knew the way down, and to our surprise, she took us to a crypt and a winding path that took us down through the stations of the cross! Jean and I had never seen it! Visitors we'd been with before had opted for elevators up and down...missing all the beauty and splendor along the way!

I'm enough of a realist to know that being able to walk, hike, take the stairs, and other activities can get more difficult as we get older. But as with all the rest...let's keep doing it till we can't do it anymore. And then, we'll just do something different.

 

Rituals of Departure

Leaving the Lot at the end of my first visit in 1996, Wendy took me to the Gare de Cahors and walked out with me to wait for the train and see I got situated in my seat. After lots of waves and kisses in and out my window, I looked away for a moment and when I looked to the window again on my left...Wendy had come up to the glass and was planting a huge kiss. No wonder I had to come back!

I've written before about Cahors being my launching pad and landing pad. It holds so many wonderful memories for me. There was a time when I dreamed about pulling into the parking lot in my deux chevaux, sporting my overalls and straw hat, with Dali on her leash going to meet my friends arriving from all over the world. It's all happened, a little differently than that, but incredible all the same.

I've spent a few midnights in Cahors, usually alone waiting for my train to Paris and then on to the states, or to work in Germany or Holland. This time, I was with Marina as she too got situated to head to Paris on the midnight train. We had fun together. These cars were couchettes so I couldn't really see where she went once she got into her compartment, but I'd have kissed the glass if I could have. Instead, I watched her train pull out. I took a couple of pictures. I shed a few tears.

Then it hit me. My departure is going to be a very different one this time. No walks to the bus stop with my baggage. No coffees and chocolatines in the café. No wanders out to the tracks to wait for my train to Paris. Instead, Dali and Sam and I will be speeding to Toulouse with Evelyn in her car. I will miss my launching and landing pad. Kisses (sprinkled with a few tears) to my favorite Gare de Cahors!