From Paris
A morning in motion. But for once, my return flight from Paris to Detroit (pronounced deh-trwah) isn't at the crack of dawn. This means that I have time for a morning walk in the city. And I have a destination in mind -- the food shop at the Bon Marche department store, where I saw a jar of thyme honey.
An odd choice? Well it's like this: Odile in Marseille (who, like me, is a great fan of honey) had reminisced how her mother always told her to eat thyme honey to calm her inner soul. She bemoaned the fact that thyme honey seems to have disappeared off the shelves of stores.
But I saw it yesterday! I did not buy it because I had not yet decided to send my suitcase through (honey would not be permitted in a carry on). At the last minute I concluded there's no reason not to send it through on a return leg of the trip and so now I could add the honey. It's not French, it's Spanish and I don't really think that it will necessarily accomplish the miraculous act of calming a soul, but I like the old world stories of foods and souls and I love honey on my morning oatmeal, so off I go to get my honey.
On a Tuesday morning, Paris is on the move! (You'll see this in all the photos: they are hurried, taken of motion and in motion.) I seem to hit the hour of taking your young child to school. I have two comments on this:
First, I see the appearance of helmets more often, but it's still not common here.
Second, what is common is the doudou (a child's skinny stuffed toy, serving as a love object) and the French tolerate a child holding on to his or her doudou beyond the time we normally would.
And they tolerate the use of pacifier beyond the baby stages. Here's a girl with both pacifier and her doudou.
It's a curious thing, this idea that we restrict something in one place and permit it in another, only to restrict other behaviors. I think if Snowdrop went to kindergarten with a doudou in her hand and a pacifier in her mouth, people would talk. At the same time, if a child in France brought her lunch to school to avoid the one offered by the school itself, people would talk, probably with not a small amount of criticism.
People talk. Waiting for my plane at the Paris airport, I find myself reading this article in the Paris Review about gossip. Do you engage in it? Is there any one who does not? Isn't Ocean a form of gossip -- about the world I encounter, which includes snapshots of people doing things? Perhaps it's not negative gossip, but as the author of the article speculates, isn't every good story just a retelling of gossip?
To continue my walk... Children going to school, adults on bicycles -- everyone on the move!
I pick up my honey...
...and then I, too, begin to pick up speed. At the hotel, I do eat my breakfast -- it will be a while before I see this much bread on my plate again!
...and then I say my good byes and walk up by the Luxembourg Gardens -- where I see both motion and a stillness (even as there is now the faintest sign of occasional drizzle... not so much as to cause you to use an umbrella... if you had one... which I don't).
... and I think about this idea that if you are still, you engage in deeper thought than when you are in the move (but is this true? is it?)...
(on the train to the airport: lost in thought)
Well, I have a lot of stillness now as I sit waiting for my flight (oh! these are making one final appearance!)...
...and then sit again, waiting for my plane to take off for Deh-trwah.
In Flight
The flight to Deh-trwah (I just repeat what Madam the flight captain says on the loudspeaker) would have been uneventful except that I got lucky and so it was better than uneventful. As it was a very full flight, I asked for a free upgrade at the gate. You can do that on Air France if you are their frequent flyer and you have some enormous number of earned miles in your bank and if you are of a certain fare category. Madame looked at my record and noted that I was of no fare category, as I didn't even pay for my ticket (I'm using miles for it). Sorry, not this time -- she tells me. And she really seems sorry.
So I am surprised that when I do board, I am in fact given a seat in Air France's middle class -- an odd combination of comfort (large seats, lots of leg room) and economy (same food as the sardines which are usually my companions).
I bask in the wonderfulness of this gift.
And finally, I am in Detroit and then I am in Madison and Ed is there waiting for me and in an unusually warm evening of the last day of March, one that would even put the south of France to shame, we drive up to the beloved farmhouse.
From the Farmette
The first thing to notice on a still very warm early morning - the morning after my arrival - is that the crocuses are blooming!
We're in the middle of a warm spell and there's plenty of sunshine! Breakfast -- oh, I missed this meal in the past weeks! My oatmeal is improved by a drizzle of thyme honey...
After? Oh, I have a long check list, but right on top, there is our annual planting of the tomato seeds. Here we go!
(while the plump cheepers look on, happy as anything to keep an eye on our outdoor work)
And then there is Snowdrop.
Her mom brings her to the farmhouse and the littlest one is at first tentative. I can see her puzzlement: familiar, yes, it seems familiar... She displays her most serious expression. And she shows me how she can grab now...
Just to make sure you understand, grandma: I can do it!
...and from there it's all smiles and giggles for the rest of the afternoon.
... not just giggles -- whole cackles of laughter now!
I cannot believe how in 2.5 weeks this girl has grown! (In size as well, though she still seems tiny if ever you position her next to big Ed...)
The day is so brilliant, so warm and solidly hopeful! My girl and I take Snowdrop for a long long walk. (Yes, that sun hat is from St. Ives...)
I think -- two an a half weeks... Such a short period of time! But when you go away, that perception changes. As I listen to Snowdrop babble for the first time -- real goos and gaas -- I think surely this girl has jumped to an entirely new playing field.
Sometimes it take a grandchild to remind you how much you can accomplish in a very short period of time.
Ah, but it's great to be home again.
A morning in motion. But for once, my return flight from Paris to Detroit (pronounced deh-trwah) isn't at the crack of dawn. This means that I have time for a morning walk in the city. And I have a destination in mind -- the food shop at the Bon Marche department store, where I saw a jar of thyme honey.
An odd choice? Well it's like this: Odile in Marseille (who, like me, is a great fan of honey) had reminisced how her mother always told her to eat thyme honey to calm her inner soul. She bemoaned the fact that thyme honey seems to have disappeared off the shelves of stores.
But I saw it yesterday! I did not buy it because I had not yet decided to send my suitcase through (honey would not be permitted in a carry on). At the last minute I concluded there's no reason not to send it through on a return leg of the trip and so now I could add the honey. It's not French, it's Spanish and I don't really think that it will necessarily accomplish the miraculous act of calming a soul, but I like the old world stories of foods and souls and I love honey on my morning oatmeal, so off I go to get my honey.
On a Tuesday morning, Paris is on the move! (You'll see this in all the photos: they are hurried, taken of motion and in motion.) I seem to hit the hour of taking your young child to school. I have two comments on this:
First, I see the appearance of helmets more often, but it's still not common here.
Second, what is common is the doudou (a child's skinny stuffed toy, serving as a love object) and the French tolerate a child holding on to his or her doudou beyond the time we normally would.
And they tolerate the use of pacifier beyond the baby stages. Here's a girl with both pacifier and her doudou.
It's a curious thing, this idea that we restrict something in one place and permit it in another, only to restrict other behaviors. I think if Snowdrop went to kindergarten with a doudou in her hand and a pacifier in her mouth, people would talk. At the same time, if a child in France brought her lunch to school to avoid the one offered by the school itself, people would talk, probably with not a small amount of criticism.
People talk. Waiting for my plane at the Paris airport, I find myself reading this article in the Paris Review about gossip. Do you engage in it? Is there any one who does not? Isn't Ocean a form of gossip -- about the world I encounter, which includes snapshots of people doing things? Perhaps it's not negative gossip, but as the author of the article speculates, isn't every good story just a retelling of gossip?
To continue my walk... Children going to school, adults on bicycles -- everyone on the move!
I pick up my honey...
...and then I, too, begin to pick up speed. At the hotel, I do eat my breakfast -- it will be a while before I see this much bread on my plate again!
...and then I say my good byes and walk up by the Luxembourg Gardens -- where I see both motion and a stillness (even as there is now the faintest sign of occasional drizzle... not so much as to cause you to use an umbrella... if you had one... which I don't).
... and I think about this idea that if you are still, you engage in deeper thought than when you are in the move (but is this true? is it?)...
(on the train to the airport: lost in thought)
Well, I have a lot of stillness now as I sit waiting for my flight (oh! these are making one final appearance!)...
...and then sit again, waiting for my plane to take off for Deh-trwah.
In Flight
The flight to Deh-trwah (I just repeat what Madam the flight captain says on the loudspeaker) would have been uneventful except that I got lucky and so it was better than uneventful. As it was a very full flight, I asked for a free upgrade at the gate. You can do that on Air France if you are their frequent flyer and you have some enormous number of earned miles in your bank and if you are of a certain fare category. Madame looked at my record and noted that I was of no fare category, as I didn't even pay for my ticket (I'm using miles for it). Sorry, not this time -- she tells me. And she really seems sorry.
So I am surprised that when I do board, I am in fact given a seat in Air France's middle class -- an odd combination of comfort (large seats, lots of leg room) and economy (same food as the sardines which are usually my companions).
I bask in the wonderfulness of this gift.
And finally, I am in Detroit and then I am in Madison and Ed is there waiting for me and in an unusually warm evening of the last day of March, one that would even put the south of France to shame, we drive up to the beloved farmhouse.
From the Farmette
The first thing to notice on a still very warm early morning - the morning after my arrival - is that the crocuses are blooming!
We're in the middle of a warm spell and there's plenty of sunshine! Breakfast -- oh, I missed this meal in the past weeks! My oatmeal is improved by a drizzle of thyme honey...
After? Oh, I have a long check list, but right on top, there is our annual planting of the tomato seeds. Here we go!
(while the plump cheepers look on, happy as anything to keep an eye on our outdoor work)
And then there is Snowdrop.
Her mom brings her to the farmhouse and the littlest one is at first tentative. I can see her puzzlement: familiar, yes, it seems familiar... She displays her most serious expression. And she shows me how she can grab now...
Just to make sure you understand, grandma: I can do it!
...and from there it's all smiles and giggles for the rest of the afternoon.
... not just giggles -- whole cackles of laughter now!
I cannot believe how in 2.5 weeks this girl has grown! (In size as well, though she still seems tiny if ever you position her next to big Ed...)
The day is so brilliant, so warm and solidly hopeful! My girl and I take Snowdrop for a long long walk. (Yes, that sun hat is from St. Ives...)
I think -- two an a half weeks... Such a short period of time! But when you go away, that perception changes. As I listen to Snowdrop babble for the first time -- real goos and gaas -- I think surely this girl has jumped to an entirely new playing field.
Sometimes it take a grandchild to remind you how much you can accomplish in a very short period of time.
Ah, but it's great to be home again.
