It must be a sign or a message of some kind...I seem to find myself starting off to go to the grocery store in Figeac only to discover that it is fete day. I once again needed money for this afternoon's plumbing visit, which you can always get at the distributer (ATM), got a few things, but spent my time yesterday wandering around parts of Figeac that are off my beaten path.
Beautiful and interesting windows called my name at every turn. These red (ish) ones screamed loudly. And, they were located on such an interesting building. Of course, there are more to share another time.
The message:
It's time to take a whole day wandering in Figeac.
Look inside this bag and you will find Lotoise magic. When Odile laid the bag on the table on Saturday, I knew what was inside. And of course, it was from Isabelle Roux's Boulangerie-Patisserie a tad bit down the road from their home.
I don't know how many times I've sat at the Lagarrigue table and watched Odile cross and cut that huge loaf of bread. Saturday, we were alone and chatting. This time when she crossed the underside of the loaf with her knife, I had the chance to ask about it. Holding the loaf in her arm, she crossed it again, smiled, and said it's to thank God for our bread today.
There it is again...the gratefulness, the simple things, and a reverence to the universal and supreme flow in our lives that is bigger than all of us.
Just this morning, I'd written an email to all the family back in the states. Both Mom and Dad have been in and out of the hospital since I've been in France. They are both now in rehab at Hidden Lake before they can go back to their Assisted Living Apartment in the same location. I closed by saying that: "I'm crossing everything I own, that they will stabilize during the time Tom is there."
My morning "crossings" were in hope, a special request, wishing to stir the power of the universe. This is very different for me. When I'm in the Lot, I am usually sharing in the gratefulness of Odile at many levels. I still do, but on this trip the challenges of the states are sandwiched in between all that grateful. Being grateful is important, but sometimes knowing when to ask for help can be even more so!
These barn baby birds were a really blessing for me.
Hatching before my eyes
Calling me Mom
Watching them grow
I'd checked on them on my way up to the Mairie Saturday night. The nest was full, and I was surprised none of them were falling out. I didn't have my camera, but promised myself I'd go back out in the morning and get what might be my last shot. As you can see, I missed that opportunity. On Sunday morning, this is what I found:
It almost looks like the nest itself is tipping. I wonder if it tips them out when it's time to hit the road. Hmmm, now I know what "empty nest syndrome" feels like!
...Vanille!The Lagarrigue's beautiful Irish Setter, Vanille, always comes with us on our walks. Saturday was no different. Leashless, on the road, off the road, real and imaginary sitings, and creatures at her feet; she loves it. I only wish I had her energy. And of course, I get to have my fill of the doggie hugs and doggie kisses I miss so much without Dali.
Along our route we had a little pest. You know the kind: a real non-stop barker and yapper. Small and skiddish to boot, this little dog wasn't letting anyone get very close. And then Jean-Luc mentions-this is "Vanille" too! They might have the same name, but they're miles apart in personality. There was no room for four-legged or two-legged friendship with our second scoop of Vanille!
I'm thinking our first scoop should be called "Vanille Royale."
It's cherry time in the neighborhood. Friday's walk up to Jean's and then through the village to the Mairie, brought a pleasant surprise. I hadn't seen Simone yet, so when I saw her standing on scaffolding so she could reach the cherries in her tree, I had to go over and say bonjour. She stopped. We chatted en francais ensemble and I held her hand the whole time...I was a little afraid she might take a tumble. Instead, I got: the warmth of her touch; the glow of her smile; and, a handful of sweet, beautiful, deep red cherries to nibble on down the road home.
Saturday morning, I was on my way to visit Jean-Luc and Odile in Tour de Faure on the bus. We always start with a coffee, take a walk (or two) of some kind, return for a wonderful lunch with Odile, and I catch the 13:55 bus back home to Cadrieu. This visit, we hiked and then returned to walk up to La Tour where Jean-Luc is now keeping bee hives. (Knowing another "bee keeper" in New Orleans, it was interesting to compare.) On our way, his on-the-road neighbor, Yvette, was out in her cherry trees. We said bonjour and stopped to chat. (With Simone, I was looking up. Here with Yvette, we were looking down.) Yvette asked if I was English, and we chatted a bit about the states. She reached up and offered us some cherries, and then told us to help ourselves. Continuing our walk, Jean-Luc asked me if I played Scrabble? No, but it turns out that Yvette and Odile play Scrabble together once a week.
Our cherry moments may not last much longer, but I find walks in the neighborhood are always rich in beauty, discovery, and conversation in my simple life in the Lot.
I know that I've spoiled Sam for shrimp. We share. The other day however, Sam began her shrimp thief life of crime. I know, I shouldn't have left the plate on its own once I peeled my shrimp. During a brief in and out from the terrace for a napkin...she'd already gotten busy. Happy Weekend!