Postcard From France: Busy Days In The Country

You were probably wondering, dear Reader, what had become of me here in the mountains, in the middle of France. Not to worry. Everything is fine. It has just been a very busy couple of days.

I had expected to blog and photograph more during my stay here, but then, the days have their very own rhythm and pass entirely too quickly. In addition, my son Max arrived here last week with his girlfriend Lucy, so we have taken some day trips and visited markets.

Here in our little village, it has been raining off and on for days. The sun made a glorious appearance for two days, but was chased away again by ominous clouds and yesterday, we woke up to a thunderstorm, which knocked out the internet for the second day. Today, we may be a bit luckier, but the weather changes hourly here.

How do I spend my days here, you may ask? Well, I tend to my garden, go to the market, cook, visit and entertain our many French friends, take day trips with the family and make sure that our little wood stove is filled and warming the house. (Yes, dear Reader, we have had to make fires in the morning and night for some coziness on rainy days.) We also have to chop wood to replenish our reserve for next summer. So you see, there is plenty to do here. The word boredom never enters our vocabulary.

How are things back home in Brooklyn. I heard that the heat has broken and that the weather is delightful.

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Postcard From France: Snail Crossing

We were driving along the road right outside of our little village here in the Auvergne, when my husband spotted the little snail crossing the road.

"You should take a photo of him" he said, knowing that, as a blogger, I never leave the house without my camera. "I'll gladly stop the car. But in exchange, you'll have to pick him up and put him on the grass, safely away from cars."

I got out of the car and took the photo of the slimy little fellow, before lifting him up by his shell and depositing him safely on the other side of the road.

For an instant, I thought about Brooklyn, city traffic and my other life.

I smiled, both at how different my life is here and my husband's soft spot for snails.

The interesting insect below showed up on our garden table this morning. Though rather beautiful, it was just a bit too scary for me and I was happy when it had crawled away somewhere and was hidden by the foliage.

Nothing, however, prepared me for the huge web which this nasty looking spider built on one of the wooden shutters overnight. I must admit that I have a rather unreasonable fear of these eight-legged creatures. Whether in Brooklyn or here, I try to avoid them. I asked my husband if he could remove the spider, preferably as far away as possible, but I am not sure he did. In the meantime, I am avoiding that corner of the house. Can you blame me?

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Postcard From France: Good Morning, Brooklyn!

Good morning, Brooklyn!

Though the weather forecast had only predicted a chance of rain showers for this afternoon, I woke up early in the morning to the sound of big drops against my bedroom window panes. So I rolled over, covered myself with my wool blanket and snoozed a bit longer. Things had not improved by the time I walked down into the kitchen to make coffee. It was downright chilly in the house, so I turned on the heat for a quick blast of coziness. Outside, thick fog hung over our little hill. I could barely discern anything past the geranium planters.

Can you imagine, dear reader, that my July here is so very different than yours in Brooklyn, where the heat has been unrelenting, or so I hear?

Rather than letting the cold and wetness get us down, my husband and I have been cleaning and organizing the house. We even got some little projects out of the way. I have been making some cherry jam and some from the blueberries which were freshly picked in the forest.

The rain has one more benefit. The flowers everywhere are just beautiful. My husband found this little cluster of poppies growing along the roadside right outside of our village. I think he intends on taking a shovel next time, so that he can try to transplant a few to our garden.

In my experience, that never works. These little beauties don't like to be told where they should bloom. Instead, they happily grow where they want.

So there you have it, dear Reader. The days are flying by and I am trying to squeeze the most into them. La vie est belle, chers amis!

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Postcard From France: Behold The" New York City Taxi Cab" Toilet Seat

While I am trying to shop for typically French accessories to decorate our 1866 stone farm house here in the Auvergne, it would appear that the must-have home decorating item for every French person this summer features New York City taxi cabs. In not one but three stores in one day, I came across the motif on large framed photos, canvases, wall clocks, stools and lamps, to name just a few. The catalogues are full of the same motif as well.

The most amusing item by far features yellow cabs on a toilet seat. Yes, dear readers, a toilet seat. I know that New Yorkers often feel as though their city is going down the toilet. Here in France, the sentiment can be expressed quite literally.

The price for this quality item was about 34 Euros (or 45 Dollars.) I had to smile at the notion that some French person would think that this is the height of chic.

I wonder if the NYC Taxi and Limousine commission knows about this.

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Postcard From France: July Fog

Here in the Auvergne, in the center of France, it has been raining since yesterday evening. Mind you, I am not complaining. The last few days have been very hot and dry, so the rain and the accompanying cool air has come as a relief.

The landscape itself has been transformed by the low clouds as well. The vistas are always spectacular, but the mist has added a sense of mystery.

My husband and I were driving through the mountains today, when we were caught in the thickest fog I have ever seen. It was downright scary and we had to inch our way along, till it cleared.

I know that it must be difficult to imagine this sort of weather in July, but it is rather usual for the Auvergne. One summer day, it can be 90 degrees, the next, one is lucky if the temperature reaches 65 degrees.

Don't worry, the sun is supposed to return tomorrow. But in the meantime, I am wearing a thick wool sweater.

How goes it in Brooklyn? Any news from my favorite Brooklyn neighborhood?

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Postcard From France: Child's Play

It was a beautiful day here in the Auvergne. The grandchildren of my neighbor Claudine were playing outside for hours, busily pushing a child's wheelbarrow around and sometimes, kicking a ball to each other.

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