Friday permutations

One must make allowances for April. As we take a twenty-plus degree plunge back into the forties, I try not to compare and contrast this to yesterday's sunny and warm weather. Never mind -- a month ago I would have felt jubilant if we simply crept over the freezing point.

Breakfast is in the sun room, but the wisps of sunshine are far and few and I had to compensate by bringing in the daffodils.






But if the weather can't oblige, you can ignore it and concentrate on all the other good points to the day. For example, my wonderful friend is in town and this is just too perfect, as it's been a very long time since I could sit down, cup of tea in hand and just spill out those words that often lay dormant until you're with someone who knows you inside out.






Snowdrop offers another great opportunity for boosting the worth of a day beyond its weather coordinates.

She is at the farmhouse again...



("grandma, I'm skeptical about this story...")


...and she smiles, grabs, chortles and I do all that right back at her. (Why grab the small, when you can grab the big? Like her friend Penguin, for example?)






Ed says we look adorable chortling at each other, but I think he's just never been around a grandma chortling along with her granddaughter, so his range of comparisons is small.

I tell him he looks pretty adorable with her on his chest.






Less smooth is our daily excursion out with the stroller: I have a warm jacket for Snowdrop and I take out the blanket once more and she is so primed for that walk of ours...






But the wind is too strong and after the nth time of adjusting the blanket around her after a gust of wind causes it to fly up and away, I give up. We return home. On my way in, I introduce her again to the cheepers, who for some reason are waiting at the walkway for our return.






And here's something remarkable: I notice (though I doubt that she notices) the first blooming daffodil in the garden! That's nearly two weeks earlier than last year!






We are on schedule for a timely progression of spring weather.

Even as the rest of the afternoon and evening are spent indoors.





Snowdrop is just fine with that!

Thursday leap

It seems that everything has moved forward in great leaps in just these last days. I've come back to a new world where trees are budding, cheepers are all over the farmette searching for treasures, and Snowdrop -- well now, not only does she babble  goos and gaas, but, too, she grabs and is intent in locating her thumb in that fist that now so often goes straight to the mouth.

My day is full of Snowdrop today as her parents have hit an especially work filled set of days. And so I try hard to fit all that needs to be fitted into the morning-- starting with breakfast, of course. [To some of you newer readers who well may wonder why the inclusion of this morning meal photo that looks so similar in every post -- well now, I consider this early set of minutes to be critical to my day: they set the stage for what's to follow. And so, too, I hope -- this image sets the stage for the post ahead.]






And to the commenters who rightly analogized the current state of the Ed head to a "giant dandelion gone to seed," I couldn't agree more! I did trim his beard when I returned, but to tell you the truth, we both kind of like the long, wild hair. (Or more correctly -- I like it and he's not in a hurry for me to trim it and so it remains puffy and not a little wild.)






After the noon hour, I have the pleasure of having Snowdrop at the farmette.






Maybe it's that she came in one of her new little dresses (it makes her look just that much older!). Or maybe it's that as she nears her three month milestone. Whatever the reason -- I have a new Snowdrop before me, with all sorts of new requirements and preconditions, but also with a great deal more patience and understanding of what's what in this world.



(holding onto moosie's ear)






(a kick and a smile)



Ed and I take her out for a longer walk -- how could we not, when the temps are again in the mid sixties today!












And after, she plays and babbles and chortles and grabs and it's all so enormously delightful.









("I can grab my own dress!")






("ha ha ha!")



Who knows what worlds this little girl will conquer tomorrow?!

from Paris to the farmette

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.

Paris

Yes, I could have used a little more time here. Because Paris still can put some deft little surprises out there for even a weary returning traveler. But, the older I get, the more I want my family and my farmette guy, so that I have cut back from the three or even four week trips when Ed was still traveling, to somewhere around two weeks. (I wont hide the fact that, too, I simply run out of money faster now that I am no longer working.) So on Tuesday, I'm returning home and Paris has to fit snugly into this one day -- Monday.

But here's the surprise -- Paris throws me an enormous favor by defying the weather forecasters and throwing before me a morning with plenty of wind, but also plenty of sunshine.

I am in no hurry. I linger over breakfast, over my writing...





But when I do set out -- just after 11, I really set out! I do not finish my walk around town (exclusively Left Bank today) until after 5.

I don't sit down once, not even for a minute. If I put Paris at the end of a trip where I have hiked quite the number of hours, the city benefits from my heightened stamina.

 But it suffers from my tired eye. Four times I chide myself for not being quick enough with my camera to capture something special. Four times! And so my Parisian offerings here aren't nearly as full at they should be. I am just not paying enough attention today. Perhaps I'm day dreaming. Or perhaps Paris has engaged me so much in other ways, that I let the camera dangle.

Still, I'm not totally photographically idle. Here's my walk, as seen through my Sony:


Because I know the sunshine wont last, I head first for the park: Luxembourg Gardens.



("Oh, I'm glad it's spring! It's cold standing like this all winter long!")





(these two take to the chairs. Most of us find it a little too cold to sit still.)





(reindeer? or maybe moose, like the one I use for Snowdrop games?)





(what's blooming now in the gardens... Primrose, reminding me of England...)



I use a kitty corner exit from the park and rejoin the spike in pedestrian traffic: it's lunch hour. But I don't pause. I've been consistent: one meal out per day. (Except for Nice. Raw artichokes deserved a break from self imposed directives.)

This is the neighborhood of many children's clothing shops. Snowdrop benefits from this, of course. But honestly, the benefit is mostly mine: shopping for my granddaughter brings her closer to me. Keeping images in my head of what she is doing now and what she will be doing this summer keeps me busy for a good part of my walk.



(finally! a French child with a helmet! )





(a typical multi-street Paris intersection; nothing special -- except for the beautiful and surprisingly blue sky!)


Eventually, I am at the department store, Bon Marche. I look, but I do not buy. Or at least not until I go to the food emporium. Here's a woman having an iPhone (in French -- also "iPhone," pronounced the same way) conversation while selecting some prepared foods.






And then I turn in, along the rue du Bac. If I were to eat lunch, it would be here, at Cafe Varenne. But no, not today...






Eventually, all roads lead to the Eiffel Tower. Well, for me at least. It's usually the point where I turn back on my Left Bank walk. How to photograph the Tower today... How about with forsythia in the foreground?






Spring in the grocery stores: white asparagus! And lots of beautifully arranged strawberries.






I notice sales in some stores. This is new. France used to regulate when stores could hold sales and, too, whether a store could open its doors on Sundays. The latter still holds, but I see the sales have now entered the year round shopping scene.  Snowdrop benefits!






And finally, something for me: if I love a good macaron, shouldn't I occasionally make them back home? You need a special baking mat...






A few photos now of Easter displays in chocolate stores. These eggs are quite expensive. They're actually hollowed shells that are then filled with chocolate. Put one in your eggcup and chip away at the shell and you'll get your fix of heavenly dark chocolate.






These very large hens remind me of the brood back home: yep, three hens and a rooster. (See the frog peeking from behind the log?)






Finally, another image of a Parisian classic.






And now I am at the hotel again, putting my feet up and drinking a reviving cup of tea.






Dinner -- tonight it's easy. I have a reservation at Pouic Pouic. I end Paris and indeed, my travels in this way. I am thrilled that as of this year they are open seven days a week and so I don't have to worry about a Monday closure. That means, too, that the second chef in command has a chance to take over the kitchen occasionally. I am close to the open kitchen and I watch him work. This is what I love -- the detail, the care he takes with every dish. When someone puts all their skill and effort into their work, we benefit. I have always admired people who try hard in life -- in whatever domain they choose for themselves. At Pouic Pouic, the chef tries hard.






I wouldn't normally choose cod for a special last meal, but I am so glad I took a chance on it -- a heavenly presentation over a bed of braised endives! Memorable.






After, I walk home, along familiar blocks that are predictably crowded now.






I realize that passing through a city is different than settling in. You treat it as a gift, a little bonus. You relish every hour. And at the end of the quick trip, you think about all the things you'll do next time, during a longer stay.

Between a few evening hours and a few morning hours, I manage to write this post. I'll be on track now, reverting to posting in the evenings (US central time). Next post, therefore, will be late Wednesday. Thank you so much for patiently reading and those who comment -- for adding your words to this story!