I shopped today. All day long. I walked up one boulevard, down the next. I paused for tea at a lovely cafe. Service was slow, but I did not mind.
All the years I've been a grandparent, I have shopped for my grandkids' fall and winter clothes. And why should this year be different! I'm thinking myself to be in Paris, where shopping is especially exquisite. Not the merchandise -- you can find good stuff anywhere and, too, there are few bargains to be had in Paris, but the experience! You enter, you greet the salesperson, you look at the racks where all hangers are pointing in one direction, evenly, neatly and if you buy something, you are taught to be patient as the clerk wraps each item slowly and carefully and places it in a pretty paper bag -- all the formalities are part of the process. You can comment on the weather or on the state of the world and if you speak French, you will be rewarded with plenty of smiles for your efforts.
No, of course, I did not shop in Paris today and my cafe seat was just the white Adirondack on the porch, but I can imagine how it would have felt to be actually walking along those boulevards, cutting through serene parks, wondering if I should get an ice cream cone or if it's too early for an aperitif. Kir. Or better yet -- kir royale, to celebrate a shopping day well spent.
I heard that Europe is reinstating restrictions for Americans traveling there right now so add that to the many reasons why I am glad I cancelled my trip to Italy and France (I was to leave in 6 days). Still, I wonder how it would have felt to be actually boarding a plane. And walking those streets once again... I surely would have left my Fitbit behind because there is something so terribly wrong about counting your steps as you walk those streets and still, I would be curious, because there is no place on earth where I have walked as much as I have walked in Paris. Well, maybe New York and Warsaw, but then I actually lived in New York ad Warsaw, whereas Paris was always just an escape.
There is some guilt in spending so much time browsing and Adirondack chair sitting. Where did those energetic hikes go to? But the day is stellar and the porch never felt so good...
Besides, I walked! To the barn in the morning. And I lopped off some branches that were hanging over the path to the barn, loaded down with crab apples and forcing you to bend and twist to avoid being smacked in the face by them. So while Ed still slept I wacked off branches. Looks better now, no?
(3 additional farmette views)
("Buttered Popcorn")
A beautiful morning calls for a beautiful breakfast. I had no fresh or even left over croissants, so it was back to the same old, but I then I like my same old! And the coffee here is just as good as I would have had over there. Dare I say it -- sometimes better! Did you know that French cafes do not necessarily sell great espresso coffee? If you're fussy, you have to seek out places that actually care about the roast. (I'm not fussy and besides, I almost always take it with milk -- a whole lot in the morning and a splash in the afternoon. I did that on the porch as well!)
There are quite a number of bugs at the farmette right now, but I thought myself to be safe on the porch until suddenly I see something that makes me jump up and shout out a loud "No!" One of the cats is coming onto the porch, dangling a chipmunk in his mouth. I leap up and saunter to the door that separates the porch from the farmhouse, but it's too late. The cat moves swiftly past me and dumps the chipmunk on the kitchen floor. "No!" -- I say this again and Dance, who has been sleeping in the art room hears me and comes running to see what the excitement is all about. She and Unfriendly (the hunter cat) stare at the chipmunk who is trembling a little and assessing his escape options.This is terrible! If the chipmunk hides from the cats, we will be stuck with a wild critter in the house.
Ed!
He is on the phone but dutifully hangs up on a very important call. He looks at the two cats staring at the chipmunk (they got him cornered!) and asks patiently -- "what would you like me to do about this?"
Eventually the chipmunk runs and hides behind the rattan chest. The cats follow. He climbs up the drawers and disappears.
No!
What now?
Ed hands me a plastic container and returns to his call. I move the chest of drawers and see him in the back, clinging to the dusty piece of furniture. I force him into the plastic tub (believe me, buddy, it's for your own good!) and he tries unsuccessfully to scramble out but it's too slippery and I manage to run outside and dump him into the garden. Dance looks at me with great bewilderment, as if to question my sanity. "The fun was just starting!" -- she seems to be saying. I turn my back on all of them and return to my shopping. Up one boulevard, down the next, veering to the Jardins Luxembourg now, where the kids are pushing around their sailboats and the flowers are so exquisite -- no weeds there (I dont know how they do it!), just happy people at peace with the world because in these gardens you really do believe that the world is a kind and gentle place where you can find peace.
Now wasn't that a splendid day? And I didn't have to spend a night in the air to do it all! Nor stuff my wee suitcase which was just adequate when there were only two grandkids to shop for, but now there are four and in another couple of months, there will be five.
