Atelier Conti

Oil Painting

2012-01-29T21:11:00.000+01:00

I've always enjoyed oil paint. It's so luscious and the colors are clear. It's lots of fun to push it around a canvas, and if you have the time you can rework it infinitely. Although it takes insanely long to dry, I much prefer it to acrylic which is more practical but just plain less beautiful. I had considered working in various mediums this week but in the end I didn't really want to switch to anything else.

This is my last week with faces. I have drawn over 100 of them during the month. I found it such a wonderful exercise for myself to have a discrete focus. The human face is endlessly fascinating. At the same time, when you spend so many hours looking at just one thing, you do begin to get a sense for its structure. My two hours of drawing a day pass very quickly, and those moments have become practically my favorite time of the day. Next week I will begin with another subject and cycle through several media again.

I didn't do quite as many oil painting faces each day. They take a bit longer to accomplish. Here is a sampling. If you'd like to see the whole set, you can find them here.

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We have been spending quite a lot of time in Paris these last few weeks. We left home again on Friday to pass the weekend helping out and to celebrate Quinn's birthday. He turned 3 on Friday. When we left the house the sky was robin's egg blue and the day was warm like early spring. Passing through the forest of Montmirail, I had to stop and take a few photos of the sun filtering through the bare trees. It was one of those days that makes you want to sing.

By the end of the weekend it seemed that winter had finally descended on our corner of the world. The thermometer has taken a plunge downwards, well below freezing.

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Quinn had several birthday events. We participated in his pancake birthday breakfast party with his friend Lizzie.

We've spent the weekend putting together a new bed for Quinn, rearranging furniture, folding baby clothes, making bumpers for the cradle and recovering a couple of chairs. Never a dull moment!

Watercolor

2012-01-22T18:40:00.001+01:00

This week I worked with watercolors. I found it the most challenging medium so far. It is very unforgiving. I tend to get a little precious and too realistic which doesn't work well unless you are quite experienced. I therefore developed a faster and looser method involving usually wetting the paper first and drawing faces directly with the brush. I limited my palette. It was quick and fun. I usually painted at least ten in two hours, although I didn't save them all. Here are samples from each day:

You can view the whole series here.

***

We went to Paris at the end of last week to stay with Quinn while Emily and Jos had a night away at a nearby spa. It was their last opportunity before the baby arrives. We helped a bit with preparations. While we were there, we all took a stroll to Parc de la Villette which I have written about before. It is not far from Emily's house and it is a great place to give Quinn an opportunity to practice on his new "early rider" bike (what a great invention!) In a section of this huge urban park, one I had never noticed before, there are many huge mirrors installed among the trees. We were there right at dusk and had a lot of fun playing hide and seek behind trees and reflections of trees. It was quite enchanting.

Back at home one evening we had thick fog which made the world outside our windows even more magical than usual. The village lights come on just before sunset and they reflected off the stone and softened the atmosphere, making golden accents amidst the purple haze.

Each night on these winter evenings, Rick builds a cozy fire in our wood stove. It warms the entire third floor apartment. We settle down for a quiet evening at home.

Pen & Ink Faces

2012-01-15T14:33:00.000+01:00

This week I continued to give myself a couple of hours a day of drawing time. I concentrated on pen and ink portraits. At first I was sure that I would find it much more difficult than working with pastels, as shape seems easier to me than line, but after a few false starts I got into the swing and really enjoyed myself, drawing about 6 faces each day. With pastels you can keep adding color and changing the position of things. The medium allows a lot of fussing without any damage to the paper or the image. On the other hand, pen and ink is completely unforgiving. A line drawn is a line that remains. I found that the trick for me was that instead of starting with an oval shape for the head, as I usually do, I began with the nose and worked outward in all directions from there, trying to view the face like a map and putting the elements in the right place in relationship to one another. It is a very right-brain kind of exercise, which certainly is a pleasant place to park your brain for awhile. I find I really lose track of time and everything else when I am able to get into that particular mode. It also tends to color the rest of my day in an extremely positive way. I find myself seeing things more vividly.

Here's a sample from each day. I did not sketch the faces first with pencil which means that they felt more direct and came out bolder. I used several different nibs with regular old fashioned pens dipped into ink. Mechanical or technical pens, although much easier to use, do not give the same character to the lines.

You can find the entire series of faces here.

***

It was an exceptionally lovely week with glorious sunrises every day. I took this photo of the sun just coming up over the hills at 9AM one morning. When I lived in California, I rarely focused on the length of days. Here it is much more dramatic. During the longest days of summer the sun begins to lighten the sky close to 5AM and it isn't completely dark until almost 11PM. These days it's dark until quite late in the morning. One feels much less enthusiasm for getting up early. Sunrise is rarely glimpsed in the summer months, so I do enjoy these shorter days when I can watch the low beams of sunlight cover the landscape in a peach-colored glow. This is the view from my new workstation upstairs. We already note that the sunrise is moving east from its solstice position midway along the ridge line of the house it is just to the left of here.

Making Faces

2012-01-02T09:25:00.000+01:00

One of my biggest challenges in life is to focus on just one activity long enough to get good at doing it. Everything beautiful inspires me. I want to draw, paint and make prints in each style of every artist I admire. I want to make artist's books, art dolls, sew clothing, make mobiles, do embroidery, quilting and applique. I long to redecorate our house, replant the garden, not to mention learning to speak better French, write short stories, read a lot more books and cook fantastic gourmet meals. I need to exercise more, visit more exotic places, follow cultural events in Paris better, keep in touch with family and friends more regularly. You get the picture. I never have trouble finding ways to spend my days.

A worthwhile New Year's resolution for me is based on finding limitations, narrowing my focus and restricting my daily activities. With that in mind, I have decided to lock myself in my atelier for two hours every morning and concentrate on only one subject for a month at a time. I don't take phone calls, answer the doorbell, listen to music or talk to anyone at all during that time. My first subject of focus is the human face. My aim is not to paint realistic portraits, but rather to understand faces, catch an impression and create whimsical interpretations. I want to get looser than I normally do.

The discipline of this first week turned out to be wonderfully enjoyable and inspirational for me. I drew at least four heads each day and had quite a lot of fun doing it. I noticed that focusing on faces in the studio made me really look at the faces I saw during the rest of my day. I noticed the way the light played on the planes of the face and closely regarded the shapes of the shadows. I also saw little imaginary faces almost everywhere: in the folds of fabric, the leaves of plants and the tiles on the floor. Best of all, when I closed my eyes at night I saw lots of brightly colored faces in many moods and contexts.

This week I worked with pastels, a medium I love, because of the bright colors, but one I haven't much explored in the past. I used turpentine to melt, smear and blend the pastels. It was almost like working with paint.

Next week I will try another medium and continue to draw faces. Here are some examples from each day:

If you wish to see the complete set, you can find them here.

One of the artist's blogs I follow is Cathy Cullis. She has a very creative mind, and is always coming up with interesting ideas and projects. She's multi-talented too, so I enjoy seeing what she is working on. In early December she posted a long list of artistic projects for the new year and asked others to report on what their ideas are for the coming year. Her projects for 2012 are explained here.

As an antidote to my morning focus, in the afternoons I worked on an etching that has no faces at all:

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Since Georges is using the atelier quite a lot lately, I have set up a new work station upstairs for when I want to be alone and concentrate. It is right by my favorite sunny window, with its expansive view over the roofs to the countryside beyond.

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In more general news from the village, this week we were on the fringe of a huge storm that swept over northern Europe, with gale force winds. In Belgium and the north coast of France there were floods and winds that wreaked tremendous havoc. We got just a kiss from that system in the form of some rainy days and dramatic howling winds. My new years resolutions did not include going out in those conditions. There were several days, however, that offered beautiful moments for walks. Friday afternoon, it was so warm in the sun that it could have been April.

One thing that I always look at and notice are clouds. They are quite wonderful in this part of the world. They move so quickly across the sky. It's an endlessly changing show.

We are located on the highest point of land in our department. The name of our town in Latin means, more or less, the marvelous view. And it is lovely to gaze out over the rural landscape below the city walls.

When we take our tour around town, we try to stay in he sun. This little path, shaded by great trees on either side, is one exception we make, as the path is grassy and inviting.

New Year's Resolutions

2012-01-01T18:09:00.002+01:00

I much prefer the first day of the year to the last. There's a sense of potential to any new year...and there's always that wonderful energy for resolutions and promises to the self. So much easier, of course, to make than to keep.

I have lots of projects planned for the new year but my resolution is just to notice one new thing every day. A simple enough goal, yet it requires some conscious choices on my part. I need to stop, to really look at things, perhaps sketch them, write about them and certainly to really think about what it is I'm looking at.

We took a walk today just before night fell. The day was gusty and as we leaned into the wind it whistled around us. Mist blew into our faces. The streets of the village were quiet.

One thing I noticed today was a gargoyle on the right edge of the chateau roof, surveying the grounds below. How is it I had never noticed it before? He stares down onto the roof of our house day and night.

While we walked along we heard a cacophony of bird song coming from inside a walled garden. The sound of joy and the promise of spring. There was a flock of songbirds clustered together in an arbor, sheltering from the weather, no doubt.

In the coming year I plan for the blog to be a kind of daily journal. I will post only once a week, generally on Sundays, but the post will be divided into five sections: Monday-Friday. I will post something I've focused on for each day. Some art work, some photos, some thoughts.

I'll be back here next Sunday to show you what I mean.

Christmas Projects & Fun

2011-12-27T15:28:00.000+01:00

Days this week have dawned clear and colorful. The whole family has been in residence and activities, cooking extravaganzas and games of various sorts fill days and evenings. I do love the holiday season and this one has been an especially jolly one. Quinn is fully aware of what's going on for the first time which makes it all the more magical for the rest of us. He has been so enthusiastic and curious.

We made most of the gifts we gave this year. It has become a kind of family tradition. For each of the adults we made pendant blank notebooks. They are about 3" high and hang around the neck with a leather tie. The idea is to always have a place to jot down a phone number or other piece of information when you're on the fly. They have removable/replaceable pages. This one is covered in suede. We had a great time figuring out how to attach the loops and fastener. We were pleased to find some very small but nice pens in our local stationery store.

For James I made a satchel out of some beautiful quilting patterns I found in our local fabric store. I made a pocket inside and found an antique scout compass and whistle on ebay to put inside it. I also added a handmade book cover in which I placed a 1950's era scouting guide to camping and trail blazing.

For Emily I made a purse and book. The purse is made, on the striped side, out of a sweater I bought with her years ago in California. She has one just like it. I felted the wool earlier this year and it is now a nice soft fabric. The turquoise side is from an angora scarf I had. I stamped a couple of images on hand-dyed linen fabric and then embroidered them onto the front and back. I love applique and embroidery, although I've never really learned how to do it beyond a few basic stitches. It's one of my New Year's resolutions, to experiment with it. The big red flower stamp is one Emily bought me as a gift from the Victoria and Albert Museum Store when we were in London together last April. It's a genuine Indian fabric pattern stamp. The trim at the top of the bag is an antique one I bought with Emily at the flea market in Paris a few weeks ago. The book is covered in a paper Emily brought me from Italy some years ago. It has strips of bright paper sewn onto the base off-white sheet. The book has favorite recipes in it.

For Quinn we made a game called "A Visit to Nana and Bobo's House." We mounted a large scale photo of our house and pasted it onto foam core. It stands about 18" high. We printed out more photos of some of the family members and mounted them on foam core as well. Rick made nice wooden stands for everything. So it is stable on the floor or a table.

We also made him a finger puppet theater. I found a fantastic site where you can download a huge variety of copyright-free images. They have this wonderful old theater image there.

We love puppets in our family. I bought this old puppet theater in Prague when we visited there several years ago. Quinn is getting old enough to begin enjoying making and watching shows.

On Christmas morning we had fun watching Quinn discover his new toys. Here three boys are fascinated by a wooden robot whose limbs rotate around on elastic cord which allows the robot to contort himself in various funny positions. I can't tell here who's enjoying it the most.

Often on Christmas either James or Emily thinks up some original activity for the family. This year Jos and Emily created a magical crafts fair in the atelier. They secretly set it up on Christmas Eve and invited us down to participate in it on Christmas afternoon. Emily had purchased all kinds of luscious supplies, lots of fabrics, buttons, ribbon and notions from La Droguerie in Paris (a fabulous resource) as well as fancy papers, clay, pottery paints and various other items so we could have a family crafts party. James, Emily and I spent quite a lot of time in the studio making various items.

Quinn joined us occasionally as well. He painted a butterfly mask and a big cardboard "Q". He made some clay animals. My favorite was a Fimo leopard with orange sequin spots which he carefully arranged.

James worked on making a tie for Adric, who wasn't able to join us this holiday season.

It turned out very well. Emily made some very cute brown corduroy pants for Quinn. I made a little purse and a pencil pocket.

Our traditional Christmas meal is a plateau de mer. This year Jos and Rick also made watercress soup. It was delicious.

The day after Christmas was bright and sunny and we took a walk in the woods. Jackets began to be peeled off as we strolled through the sunnier parts.

Quinn tried out his new "early rider" bike which was waiting for him under the tree on Christmas morning. He got the hang of it very quickly.

The new year is right around the corner and I intend to have a slightly different format for the blog beginning next week. It's always good to have a few New Year's resolutions and to use the energy to start something afresh. Wishing all of you a very happy New Year.

Celebrate!

2011-12-18T11:21:00.000+01:00

Thanksgiving came and went at the Maison Conti without notice. It's not that we didn't mark the day with the usual gratitude for family, friends and our happy life, but no special meals were cooked in honor. Since moving to France we have generally celebrated Thanksgiving with a Saturday after dinner, which we share with an American friend of Emily's, Alex Tallen (Maison Conti cooking instructor) and her family. This year, however, both Jos and Alex's husband Aurelién were not available in November. The earliest time everyone could gather was the weekend before Christmas (that is to say, this last weekend).

Emily met Alex at George Washington University in 1997 when they were both freshmen in the theater program there. They discovered that they had a lot in common. They were born two days apart, they were both interested in acting, were vegetarians and loved cooking, and they both spoke French. The commonalities continued as life went forward. They both married European actors (Jos is Belgian and Aurelién is French) who are older, established in their respective careers, and both Emily and Alex moved to Paris and live just a few minutes walk from one another. Alex has a son Marlowe, who is 7 now, but Quinn and Beatrix, Alex's second child, were born just two weeks apart and are in the same class at the same bilingual school. Of course, we've adopted this family ourselves and Marlowe and Bea may as well be a couple of extra grandchildren.

As usual, the menu planned for the evening was an extravaganza of gourmet delights:

Roast pheasant
Cornbread stuffing with jalapeno and butternut squash
Cranberry pear chutney
Roasted cranberry sauce
Cranberry apricot and cardamon sauce
Autumn slaw
Brussels sprouts with shallots and mustard seeds
Kale with red onions and garlic butter
Sweet potatoes with garlic oil and fried sage leaves
Wild mushrooms with chestnuts and thyme
Mashed garden potatoes
Fresh baked dinner rolls
Apple cranberry crumble
Pumpkin ice cream

Alex is a professional chef, having earning a degree at the acclaimed Ritz-Escoffier Culinary School in Paris, and has worked in the kitchens of some acclaimed Paris restaurants.

Emily is a passionate amateur cook with a shelf full of wonderful cookbooks. We were in very good hands.

From the above photo of Emily cooking you can't see the advanced stage of her pregnancy. I love how the maternity styles these days don't shy away from letting the belly show its true shape! She'll be welcoming her little one early in the new year.

The third in the kitchen crew was James. He was able to get away from England a little early this year and has a couple of weeks to spend with us. Here he is with a basket of herbs fresh from the garden.

Aurelién works for the Comédie Française as a repertory actor. He also is a film and television actor. In fact he just began shooting a made-for-television movie in which he stars as both the president of France and an actor. He showed us photos of his make-up as the politician and he was completely unrecognizable.

We've known Marlowe since he was a baby and we've enjoyed watching him grow up. He is at a particularly charming age. Maison Conti is a place he's visited several times before, so he does not feel shy or ill at ease in any way. Children tend to love our big old rambly house. It's a little bit magic. Marlowe said to me at one point during the weekend, "You're very lucky to live in a hotel." At the end of the weekend both he and Quinn were reluctant to leave.

Marlowe was eager to help out with dinner preparations. Rick and he dug up the potatoes for the mash, which was Rick's assignment.

Marlowe, when not helping, was building boats. He became intrigued by a piece of bark he found in our wood pile and solicited Rick's help in designing a sailboat.

He was very pleased with the results and went on to make three others on his own.

They worked very well. He tested them all out in our fountain. They floated and stayed straight up, not listing from side to side as handmade boats sometimes will. I asked him if he had a place to sail them at home in Paris and he replied "my bathtub."

With Marlowe's help, Rick built a fire in our downstairs fireplace. I love it when there is a fire there. It's so cozy and warm.

Quinn and Bea are best of friends. And sometimes rivals. We had lots of running games, words of praise and love "Bea, are you wonderful?" "I love you, Quinn," and a fair number of rows as well. "Mine!" "No, mine!"

Before dinner some of the men folk reposed chimney side and talked while the rest of us served up.

The Autumn slaw was a particularly beautiful and delicious dish. It has raw beets, sliced very thin, red cabbage, apples, pomegranate seeds, hazelnuts and a dressing that is out of this world. It's from A Year in My Kitchen by Skye Gyngell, which has been mentioned before on this blog. It is a cookbook well worth having!

The spread was beautiful and copious, as always when planned by Emily and Alex. The plenitude was all from healthy foods, so one could enjoy it without guilt.

We ate in the downstairs dining room with another fire blazing and our holiday decorations here and there making for a festive event.

We were ten happy and well-satisfied people. I don't think I've ever had a better home cooked meal in my life. Call it Thanksgiving, call it pre-Christmas, whatever it was it was memorable.

A British director, who is working with Jos, sent him two huge bundles of forced narcissus as a Christmas gift all the way from London. Jos brought them along and they perfumed the whole room, promising spring to come!

Visit a Paris Market

2011-12-15T09:34:00.000+01:00

We are still in Santa's workshop mode here at the Maison Conti. The wind is howling outside the windows, but we're staying cozy and warm in the studio while we work away at projects for our holiday giving. Nothing yet to reveal!

In the meantime, I saw this wonderful video on David Lebovitz's blog and I thought you would enjoy it. He worked at Chez Panisse for many years and now lives in Paris. He's always cooking up something delicious.

Paris Market from David Lebovitz on Vimeo.

In the Seasonal Spirit

2011-12-07T17:55:00.001+01:00

'Tis the season to be jolly and also quite busy! How to share a few recollections from the past week? Briefly! We've launched Santa's workshop here at the Maison Conti, and all the elves are busy busy all the day long. Outside the sun comes and goes, the clouds open and close and yet we hardly notice, huddled, as we are, beside our roaring fire with busy hands and messy table tops.

We're making cards and gifts, projects which simply can't go public at this time.

We have the seasonal accoutrements gathered about us. I've ordered string and ribbon and wonders of every kind from the amazing suppliers on Etsy. So much is available out there!

We've barely begun to decorate the house for the season, although we did buy our charming little tree. As yet it sits in a corner rather expectantly.

I put out this wonderful merry-go-round book on the gueridon in the entry way (I love this French word for a round table. It's pronounced gary-don). It's a big book so is not often on display. Emily gives me a beautiful book like this almost every year. I love them all.

Daily there have been trips to the post office...I've had quite a few orders from my Etsy store. This is the busiest time of year there, of course.

Have a hoppy week!

Back in Paris

2011-11-29T13:34:00.001+01:00

We spent the weekend in Paris visiting Quinn and Emily. The large cherry tree which sits right in front of their door had shed most of its leaves while they were away. It is a tree that brings pleasure all throughout the year. It also supports Quinn's swing.

Before we left home, Quinn called and asked us to bring the trains. The Brio set, which used to be James' when he was little, usually lives at Nana and Bobo's house, but sometimes when we go to visit we bring it along as a treat. Quinn can spend hours driving the train around the track and telling stories about where the train is going and who is all aboard. He makes a "shooshoo" sound as he drives his cars around.

One of the only things which can distract him from this occupation is certain music. There are a few CDs that when played absolutely demand dancing. He loves to sing as well and will gladly launch into Alouette, Frere Jacque or The Wheels of the Bus without much prompting. Emily got a book that has nothing but songs and chants and their associated hand gestures such as The Itsy Bitsy Spider, Head Shoulders Knees and Toes and I'm a Little Teapot. We all enjoyed practicing old favorites and learning new ones.

Quinn also wanted to show us his drumming skills.

While in Paris we went to Chinatown in Belleville, which was an incredible treat for us as we simply can't find good Chinese food in our neck of the woods.

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While we were in Paris visiting one grandchild, another one was being born in California. Rick's son Chandra and his wife Kylie welcomed Mila into their family. She is their second child and our third grandchild. They are a very beautiful family, as this photo expresses perfectly.

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As promised I have made a print of the cabbage photo etching and am posting it here. It is printed in just one color. I think it turned out very well and I am pleased to be able to produce these photo etchings again after a two year hiatus.

I spent a certain amount of time getting my Etsy shop ready for the Christmas season, printing up some cards and adding several new things to my inventory.

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We had an adventure at one of the famous Puces (flea market) in Paris while we were there. St. Ouen is huge and rambling, taking up blocks and blocks with stands of mostly junk. You need to have a lot of time and patience to find anything too extraordinary, but it is fun to wander around. Since these places are so well known and patronized, it's fairly difficult to find a bargain.

When we arrived it was gray and cold. We cruised some of the streets and enjoyed the colorful neighborhood sights and sounds.

I don't remember the sky becoming this blue, but when I snapped the bones of this old building, the clouds must have lifted for the moment.

Emily knew of a couple of shops inside a passageway off the main flea market. We made our way there to get out of the crowds and cold. There were two shops side-by-side with some really very beautiful antique items for sale. We bought this collection of very old paper ephemera from one little shop that had huge bins of old posters, postcards, stamps and advertisements.

The shop next door is literally about the width of a small trailer but about a city block long. On one side, the whole length of the shop is antique clothing and hats and on the other are notions, buttons, ribbon, lace and mouthwatering bric a brac. I had to keep my purchases down to just a few meters of trim, because the prices were not bargain basement. Some of the items in the shop are 50-100 years old or more.

I came back home inspired to begin my holiday preparations. I have a long list of projects to begin. Emily asked if I could make an advent calendar for Quinn and I was happy to deliver my finished product to them when we visited. I was pleased with the results, especially since I'm not particularly a brilliant seamstress. I searched the internet for ideas, but in the end made up my own version. I happened to have 24 little items on hand to put in the pockets.

We're in the Studio, Quinn's in New York

2011-11-21T16:13:00.001+01:00

It's been a glorious week of blue skies, magnificent sunrises and quiet days. I never loved winter when I lived in California, but here it has become one of my favorite seasons of the year. I have so much time to dream and play in my studio, which is about all I did this whole week.

Meanwhile, Quinn the world traveler (he has visited 9 countries already in his almost 3 years) is in New York City while his father plays in an off-Broadway production of Fragments, by Samuel Beckett and directed by Peter Brook. Read a review from the New York Times here.

The theater and hotel are near Central Park, so Quinn is spending lots of time out-of-doors in the glory of a late New England autumn.

Jos has days free to explore the park with Quinn. Emily has been helping teach a workshop at the theater.

Quinn had heard about the famous dinosaur bones in the Natural History Museum and he was really anticipating this visit. He asked me before he left if he was going to be allowed to feed the dinosaurs. I told him the problem was that they have no tummies.

Emily and James have always loved their uncle Andy, who lives in Rochester. He is the youngest brother of their late father, who died when they were about Quinn's age. Andy has many of the qualities their father had, so it is no wonder that he and his wife Marsha have always been dear to them. When they came to see the show, Quinn took to Andy and Marsha right away as well.

Quinn is enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. He especially likes the taxis. He got his own miniature version. When taken to Times Square he did pronounce it as boring, however.

In the park is a children's museum where there are lots of activities. I loved this picture of Quinn making a little sculpture.

So wonderful!

Emily and Quinn fly home tomorrow and we will spend next weekend with them. Jos stays on until the end of next week.

***

I had an energetic week in the studio, beginning with reorganizing and cleaning the space itself. It took me two full days to break down the boutique (which I do every winter), rearrange my furniture, scrub everything from top to botton, shuttle books up and down stairs to make room for even more books and in general set the stage for a productive winter season next to the cozy fireplace.

I experimented with a lot more chine collé, this being only one of many we printed. It is a fun process that deserves a lot more exploration.

I have hundreds of family photos and I always enjoy making little portraits of ancestors, which I also indulged myself in this week. Not one of these folks is still alive today.

I continued on my nature journal as well, though finding nature inside rather than out.

Here is a drawing some of the shells I collected during summer outings.

Towards the end of the week we decided to drag our photo etching box out of retirement in our garden shed and try once again to make it work. Rick made this box to expose photo-sensitive plates a couple of years ago and at first it seemed to work very well. We really enjoyed the process, even having a class one summer. All of a sudden it seemed to go all wrong and we couldn't get our plates to develop correctly. We didn't change our process but the images were not turning out with any contrast. The plates are fairly expensive, about 10€ a piece, so after spending a tidy sum trying to get a good result and failing, we retired our box altogether. We assumed that we had a bad batch of plates, that they had already been exposed to light, but our provider would not confirm a problem on their side, so we just shelved the whole process. I did buy a couple more several months ago since they were on sale and I've had them in my drawer since. Georges, who uses a much more expensive and professional process than this one (you can see it here) inspired us to try again. Here's the process step-by-step:

You begin with a photo and create a black and white positive on transparent film.

This will be exposed onto a photo-sensitive plate with this box, which shines a UV light onto the plate through the transparency.

The plate is posed on a backing board, the transparency is placed on top and a piece of glass is placed over this and squeezed in place with clamps to hold the plate and transparent image together snugly.

The UV light must be turned on before the plate is placed inside and needs to sufficiently warm up.

The plate is placed in the box and left to expose for three minutes. This is more or less like exposing a solar plate, but faster.

The transparency is removed and a half tone screen is placed over the plate in its place and again exposed to the light, this time for a minute and a half. This adds the half tone dots which allows for better printing of dark areas, like in a newspaper before the digital revolution.

The plate is developed in clear warm water. This is a completely non-toxic technique. We can already see here that this is working! The plate is a good one...much to my pleasure and disbelief.

The plate is dried with a hair dryer so that water streaks from the development process can be eliminated. This is actually the trickiest part of the whole thing.

The plate is put back in the box for a few minutes further harden the emulsion for printing. The edges are then beveled to prevent cutting the paper or press blankets.

Here's the finished plate. We haven't printed it at all yet, as it has to rest for a while but we can more or less tell that it has all developed rather well. Hopefully I can show you printed results next week.

Another week come and gone. Holiday thoughts are starting to bubble up.

Enjoy your last days of November.

My Week in 32 Pictures

2011-11-14T13:19:00.001+01:00

dawn over Montmirail

we served 10 breakfasts this week

blue bike outside the church

sunny studio window

a page from my nature journal

the cathedral in La Ferté-Bernard

the passageway that leads to the boulangerie in La Ferté-Bernard

beet greens

Mr. Crapaud

window of the garden shed

abandoned cabbage

the last nasturtiums

stocking up at the farmer's market

chine collé project step 1: paint the koschi paper with permanent ink

chine collé project step 2: dampen the koschi paper carefully

chine collé project step 3: pose the inked plate and paper on the press bed

chine collé project step 4: place dampened and spray-glued koschi on plate, glue up, towards paper

chine collé project step 5: run through press

mutabilis rose in front terrace garden on a sunny morning

table set for Rick's birthday dinner

a tiny snail emerges from the flower arrangement

dogs were invited to church this week

the local priest and his assistants get ready to say a blessing over all the dogs

walking down our country road

farmer's gate

seasonal colors

a neighbor working in his garden

local farm, ancient buildings

empty nest

little red pony in his green field

Montmirail seen from across the valley

while I'm walking uphill, she's coasting down

November Blues and Grays

2011-11-07T13:15:00.000+01:00

I remember when our friend and former neighbor Anita proclaimed passionately to us "je déteste le mois de Novembre!" We were surprised by her vehemence and at the time we all broke into laughter. I had never considered any particular month to be more or less vile than any other. She went on to explain that in November there is often quite a lot of fog and many gray days. She finds that kind of weather disorienting and a bit depressing. I had reason to remember the conversation this week as most of our days were overcast, chilly and incredibly uninviting. As you can see from my opening photo, however, we had one notable exception. Friday dawned bright and cheerful. We practically leaped up from under our cozy quilt and raced out into our sunny day. One thing to be said for a spate of gray is that the contrasting day can be appreciated with almost religious fervor.

I took far too many photos and believe it or not, I have been very moderate in the ones I've actually posted. This forest walk, which I've blogged about many times never ceases to inspire me. This day was a particularly wonderful one and we found ourselves entirely uninterrupted as we traversed the ancient trail. The entrance-way is always so enchanting to me. I never get inured to its charm and magic.

Because so many leaves have fallen, the sun illuminated the pathway, making a colorful tunnel, which I call the rabbit hole.

The fallen leaves make for a pleasant surface to walk upon and add to the warm glowing atmosphere.

The colors of the leaves that remain are intensified and become incandescent in light.

Can you can notice the wooden platform, now in disrepair, at the center of this photo? There once was a treehouse in this large oak tree. The forest is a marvelous place for children to play. Safe and magical. When Rick recently had an old friend come stay with us, his two pre-adolescent boys spent hours here building forts and digging tunnels.

I found a sign along the route that expressed perfectly just how I was feeling. What a glorious day.

I collected a few leaves to take back to the studio from the leaf soup found on the pathways.

There are a few places along the way that open out to the countryside below. We sat down with our faces towards the sun and basked, enjoying the warmth, the sounds of the wind in the dry leaves, the birds singing in their hiding places and the gentle lowing of cows in the fields below. We didn't say a word. It was deeply relaxing, like a natural meditation and just those few minutes continued to nurture my soul throughout the gray days that again ensued.

I don't feel exactly like Anita, even on the grayest of days in November. I do like all the time that opens up for me, after our clients have left us. We do have one businessman who comes practically every week and stays at least three nights and sometimes as many as five. He's like our new roommate. He is very pleasant, not too chatty and appreciative of everything. He's also gone all day long to work, so he is certainly the perfect kind of roommate.

***

There do need to be strategies for eliminating the blues from wintery days and particularly nights, as days are short and evenings could seem endless. I nurtured myself in several ways these chilly evenings. Sitting next to a cozy fire, I re-watched the Marcel Pagnol trilogy: Marius, Fanny and César. These are truly classic films, created in the early thirties, just after the talkies came into being. The impact this story had on French culture and cinema can hardly be overstated. There are some lines that almost everyone here can quote by heart. If you remember, as I think I've mentioned here before, it was for these films that Alice Waters named her famous Berkeley, California restaurant Chez Panisse and even named her daughter after the main female character, Fanny. Here's just a taste from the first in the trilogy. The acting is, in my opinion, incredible.

***

Another way we nurtured our souls during evenings was to begin reading The Shadow of the Wind, by Carolos Ruiz Zafrón out loud to each other. Does reading/listening to beautifully crafted prose fill you with a sense of well-being, the way it does me? Here is the opening paragraph, a mysterious painting in words:

"A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept. My first thought on waking was to tell my best friend about the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. Tomás Aguilar was a classmate who devoted his free time and his talent to the invention of wonderfully ingenious but bizarre contraptions such as the aerostatic dart or the dynamo spinning top. I pictured us both, equipped with torches and compasses, uncovering the mysteries of those bibliographic catacombs. Who better than Tomás to share my secret? Then, remembering my promise, I decided that circumstances advised me to adopt what in detective novels is termed a different 'modus operandi'. At noon I approached my father to quiz him about the book and about Julián Carax - both of which must be famous, I assumed. My plan was to get my hands on the complete works and read them all by the end of the week. To my surprise, I discovered that my father, a natural-born librarian and a walking lexicon of publishers' catalogs and oddities, had never heard of The Shadow of the Wind or Julián Carax. Intrigued, he examined the printing history on the back of the title page for clues."

The story takes place in Barcelona and the city itself becomes a major character. One thing I respect tremendously about Carlos Zafrón is that he has steadfastly refused to sell the film rights to his story, which has a tremendous following all around the world. He said in an interview with The World Book Club that he felt it would be a betrayal to his readership and that anyway he already had enough money. He got a standing ovation.

***

Of course the daylight hours are easily spent in the atelier. I had fun working with some chine collé this week, following a technique I learned from Georges. Taking a very thin piece of Japanese rice paper, I applied some permanent ink to the sheet, which was cut to the size of an etching plate. After the ink had dried, I printed the plate, this one a slightly abstract image of the Pyrenees mountains, and glued the paper on top, which added some abstract color to the image. I have been suffering over this plate for months, liking parts of it and being very displeased with other bits. This gives me a way back in. I intend to try a few more ideas, but I'm liking the direction it's going.

Another plate, my Paris street scene, has been on my desk for even longer. I've been trying to get everything the way I like it and it hasn't been easy. Originally I created it as two plates, one for all the color (applied à la poupée) and one for the black drawing. To apply the color this way takes at least a quarter of an hour per pass. Being a bit lazy and impatient with that laborious process, I also tried the chine collé technique on this one.

The color came out much more abstractly than I had intended, but in a way I like the freedom of it too. Georges, who arrives later today on a train from Paris, has bought me some more Japanese paper and I intend to try a lot more of this gratifying process in the coming week.

***

I also made some progress on Jos' website and logo which I was charged to create for him. He is currently in New York in his off-Broadway production of Samuel Beckett's Fragments and his manager insisted that he really DOES have to get his website done and have some kind of card to give out. We struggled so hard with an image to represent him, since the work he does runs the gamut from acting to directing, from slapstick to classic serious theater. He's a teacher, consultant, actor and director. I began with an image of his face and he really didn't like that, as no one expression could really capture the whole message. He requested a paper airplane as he liked the idea of the folding and the flight as a metaphor for his work; besides which airplanes are a personal passion of his. He also wanted a kind of abstract feeling. He especially likes the work of Paul Klee. My original effort had very straight lines, but he wanted something a bit messier looking. Here's the result we were all rather pleased with. A simple plane, mapped with a Kleesque pattern with lines distressed and a cartoonish flight line. It's fun and a bit mysterious if you don't have all the background, which is just how he liked it.

***

And finally my journal. (Somehow I thought I would have nothing to say this week, now I feel I must be trying your patience!) Another thing inspired by our sunny walk in the woods was beginning a nature journal to record some thoughts and images from around the neighborhood. I like this idea so much, although I generally lose steam. We shall see. This week, so far I haven't missed a day since i began it.

***

I took down my dried hydrangeas from the cellar and arranged them for the entryway. Our garden has nothing more to offer us until next year. I like the dried flowers, they feel so seasonal and they will last at least until Christmas, I hope, before I grow tired of them.

Toussaint

2011-10-31T11:16:00.001+01:00

Call it Halloween or The Day of the Dead if you prefer. Here in France it's called Toussaint and the emphasis is less on candy and costumes but more on graves and flowers. The history of this fall celebration is ancient indeed, going at least as far back as the Middle Ages, and probably much further still. It is the time of the year to honor the departed and many French people visit the burial sites of their ancestors, cleaning the graves and decorating them with flowers. Of course All Saints Day is on the first of November, while Halloween is celebrated on the last day of October. The roots are the same but they have evolved with slightly different flavors from country to country.

In the States children don't even get one day off from school for this particular holiday, while here in France it's a two week school break! Apparently Toussaint is one of the most celebrated days of the French calendar. The trick-or-treat thing hasn't really caught on here, but there are lots of family celebrations and get-togethers to mark the occasion. We have an overflow of clients this weekend, with 11 breakfasts served this morning and Montmirail in general is hopping today. Houses that are often shuttered are flung wide open. Everyone has come to town and holiday-makers are bustling past my window as I write this.

We had our own family celebration earlier in the week. Quinn and Emily came to town and stayed with us for several days as Quinn's school is closed. On the day before his break he had his first Halloween school party and made his first pumpkin face.

Quinn likes to visit because we have the Brio trains. This is something which can occupy him for a very long time and he is becoming more and more skilled at putting the track together and building his bridges and tunnels. Under the radiator is called the garage. This time I showed him how the magnets only work in one direction when putting the cars together and he was very gratified to discover the mystery behind that. He had not yet understood why the trains sometimes attached and sometimes just wouldn't.

I've been awaiting the time when Quinn would have enough patience and dexterity to do some art projects with me. He isn't three until the end of January, and until only very recently he wasn't very interested in painting or projects that take a certain amount of concentrated focus. The influence of school was certainly clear to me this time, however, as his abilities have taken a quantum leap. I had an idea to allow him to cut out little animal shapes with some air-drying clay I have and then paint them after they had dried. I was amazed at how interested and skilled he was in this.

I loved his results and he was very pleased with them himself. We wrapped them up and put them inside a tiny gold box which he took home to his papa who had stayed behind in Paris to rehearse his up-coming show. (If any of my blog friends live in New York, you will have a great opportunity to see Jos in a marvelous Peter Brook production of Fragments by Samuel Beckett during the entire month of November.)

It is the end of the fall season here and the weather is definitely nippy, but often the sky is crystal blue anyway. The leaves have fallen from the Lime trees in front of the house and Quinn enjoyed the time honored fun of running through the pile.

We took a nice walk in the sun, saw some donkeys and played with shadows.

I also pulled out a set of books I've had since Emily and James were children. It is one of my favorites, The Nutshell Library by Maurice Sendak, four gratifyingly silly stories with charming illustrations.

It is also only recently that Quinn will actually sit and listen all the way through a story, without wanting to turn the pages. It was such a beautiful day, we sat outside for story time.

Another great discovery Quinn made was toppling a line of dominoes.He wanted to do it over and over again.

***

In the studio this week I finished one little print I'm calling Living in the Country. Currently I'm working on the companion Living in the City.

***

La Ferté-Bernard was showing its fall colors all around the lake. I did a little PhotoShop manipulation on these two and I liked the results.

Speaking of this type of photo transformation, the first time I saw the dramatic color changes that people with an iPhone app called Instagram could do with a simple point and click was on Pia Jane Bijerk's very cool blog. I was completely enchanted. Since then, however, I've seen it everywhere and of course the more it's used, the more tiresome it becomes. At least for me. The two photos above were actually created in fall 2010 when I first discovered this technique. I don't have a fancy cell phone and don't own one single phone app, but I did discover that these same tricks can be downloaded as free actions for Photoshop. If you'd like to try them, they're simple as pie to use. Just load them into your actions folder and play them. It's fully automatic. Here's where I got mine, but you can find many sources on the internet.

This photo I took this week and I like most everything about it. The clouds are just right, the texture of the old wooden gate is in crisp focus and the soft landscape spied between the slats is nicely colored.

With one of the Photoshop actions (Lomo) it becomes much more saturated. I leave you to judge which photo is more interesting.

And this one. It is a little hard to discount the richness the color saturation can give to an ordinary shot. But since it's totally automatic, I feel it's a bit like cheating. Still, it can have its uses. All things in moderation.

Here's a photo from this week that needed no manipulation whatsoever. The low winter sun, just past sunrise was bathing the castle and Mairie behind our house with a rich golden glow. The lowering stormy sky in dark blue added a bit of moodiness.

Autumn Excursion in Britain

2011-10-24T12:08:00.002+02:00

A moody castle on a moody day in Wales

My son James moved from London to Birmingham in September. He is working on his Ph.D. at Warwick University and Birmingham is not only much closer but much less expensive as well. For half the price they were paying in London, they were able to rent a beautiful new apartment right in the city center of Birmingham. It also happens to sit directly on the canal in an attractive red brick building, and they even have a little piece of garden on the bankside.

We spent several days visiting and had a wonderful time discovering the city and surrounding area. We were lucky enough to have beautiful weather almost all the time we were there.

Birmingham is the second largest city in England. I found it to be very attractive. Living by the canal is wonderfully lively, with houseboats passing and people riding bikes or walking past frequently, all on the far bank as on James' side, it's entirely private. Ducks and geese glide by.

Historically, Birmingham was a center of industrial innovation and its canal system was developed in the 19th century to aid transportation of resources and manufactured products. Nowadays commerce remains the economic driving force for the city and the banks of the canals are beautifully restored and maintained as attractive walkways and store fronts.

Birmingham, as a city, has a lot to offer by way of culture. It is ethnically very diverse and offers a wide variety of restaurant choices and cultural activities. The city itself is mostly modern, as it was heavily bombed during the war, but in the city center there are some very grand old buildings, including the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, which I was very excited to hear had the largest public collection of pre-raphaelite art in the world. It's a beautiful building and the work is wonderfully displayed. And in England, all art museums have free entry!

***

Another bonus to living in the East Midlands, rather than London, is that getting out and about is much more easily accomplished. It was just a two hour drive to Wales, and James and I had much interest in going there as we had just recently uncovered some family roots from that part of the world. I have to say that the sound Wales, has always had a slightly magical ring to my ears. It evokes some kind of wind-swept beauty and fierce independence of spirit. Perhaps I was not too far off. I would characterize it as the Maine of England. It is breathtakingly beautiful and the day we arrived was blue and crisply clear with punctuations of stormy clouds rolling in and out.

The photo below and the one which opens this post are of Harlech Castle in Gwynedd, on the northwestern coast of Wales. It was built by King Edward I of England, in the late 13th century. He used it as his base for the conquering of Wales. It was built to withstand siege from land and sea. At the time it was built, the sea came to the foot of the mountain upon which it is situated.

As you can see from this view, taken a few steps away, the Irish Sea has receded in the following centuries.

After visiting this landmark, we took a wandering drive through the Snowdonia National Park. We found ourselves stopping by the roadside every few miles to get out and enjoy the scenery. After taking a few steps into the lush forest, with the sunlight playing among the branches, we could imagine how fairies and other wee folk could have come to be in this part of the world.

If ever there was a tree that cradled nature spirits, this is surely one. Notice how small James (over 6' tall) on the right side of the photo is in comparison to this perfectly formed grand old specimen.

The park has plenty of lakes, steams and waterfalls.

The colors were muted and mellow, filling me with a kind of poignant sense of loss and longing, which fall often gives rise to within me.

We were practically the only people on the road this day.

The greenest of green grass, the rusty red of dying ferns, the craggy cliffs and the short, stout, pure white sheep with long, very unsheep-like tails, made for picturesque views.

If you click on the photo below you can see the little house in the very middle of this photo which is constructed from the flint which extrudes from the earth all about it. There is no other human habitation for miles around this rustic cot.

***

Birmingham is just 23 miles from Stratford-Upon-Avon. On another day we took a day trip closer afield and began here. Rick and I had been to Stratford before about fifteen years ago. Either it has changed or we have! We had no recollection of all the commerce and cute little shops, the crowded street traffic and the overwhelming number of tourists.

This time we decided just to stop for a quick walk along the Avon River, and to get a bite to eat.

We passed this enormous sycamore tree on our way to the village churchyard where Shakespeare is buried. I wonder if it was alive when the bard was walking through the fields here. It may well have been.

The old church had a wonderful moss-covered graveyard all around it. It was very creepy and reminded me of the theme to Mystery by Edward Gorey. If you haven't seen it, you really should click on the link to the youtube version. You will NOT be disappointed, I promise you.

Lunch was taken at the Dirty Duck Pub.

The boys all had ale, I stuck with water.

We were aimlessly driving through the scenic Cotswold countryside after lunch, when we came upon a sign pointing towards Hidcote Gardens. Zounds! We made a quick left turn. If you've never heard of Hidcote, then you won't know that this is probably one of the most glorious garden designs on the planet. It is the quintessential English garden, although, in truth, it was realized by an American.

The manor house was bought in 1907 and was simply a beautiful building surrounded by fields until Lawrence Johnson, an American horticulturalist decided to make his famous arts and crafts garden. By 1920, he had twelve full time gardeners. He developed the concept of garden rooms, thus the grounds are divided into areas, each with their own individuality.

We had imagined that by this time of the year, there would not be much in bloom, but we were wrong.

The colors were not the bright summer ones, or the pure clear spring ones, but instead those delicate fall ones which I have already revealed fill me with a sense of profundity.

I particularly like the views created between the rooms.

The light was perfect at the end of the day for some dramatic shots.

Surrounding the gardens is the unspoiled landscape which can be viewed through the open gates which dot the perimeter and seem to continue the garden into infinity.

Magnificent trees punctuate the transitions between rooms.

Some are exotic or rare varieties.

The charm and diversity of the planting makes for lovely photographs. The garden was donated to the National Trust in 1947 and they have maintained it ever since.

There is also a greenhouse where lots of lovely vines were growing. On this cold afternoon, it was a pleasant place to sit and enjoy the lush foliage and delicious smells of blooming flowers.

Thank you James and Adric, we had a really wonderful time visiting you!

Forest for the Trees & A Grey but Pleasant Day

2011-10-10T16:20:00.000+02:00

Fall sunset view out our back window

This was the week when the earth tipped definitively into fall. We started out with blue, cloudless skies and temperatures fit for a summer day and ended the week under gray and cloudy skies, huddled together in our thickest sweaters. Our television weatherman told us that "all good things must come to an end." For two full weeks we had record high temperatures and for 5000 miles there was not a cloud in the sky over Europe.

During those first bright days this week, we took a walk in the forest of Vibraye to see how fall was progressing. I worked hard to capture the beauty of the scene—sunlight illuminating leaves, dried leaves covering the pathways, color variations from tree to tree. We stopped on the path several times just to listen to the utter quiet.

There are not the dramatic color changes you can experience in other parts of the world, but our weather is mild, and so our fall is mostly sweet and subtle, but not without its charm.

The forest is mostly deciduous trees, though there are a few pines.

Ash and oak trees predominate, but we saw some birch as well.

There are sections of forest that have wide pathways, and ones where the forest closes in around you. There are very few openings among the trees.

I was really delighted with this blue tree. It seemed so unlikely and mysterious.

We walked rather endlessly through the pathways. There are miles and miles of them and in the hours we spent here, we saw only four other people.

Towards the end of our trail we came across this ancient iron street sign. Why was it here? What purpose had it ever served? I suppose these pathways must have once carried wagons and people who had real destinations, unlike us, who come just for the joy of wandering.

***

At the end of the week, we took our client, Mina, to Amboise for a visit to the famous market there and a tour through Leonardo de Vinci's house, now under gray skies.

The Sunday market here stretches on and on. It lays claim to being one of the largest markets in France. It is pleasantly arranged next to La Loire river, under great sycamore trees, with the beautiful Amboise Château as backdrop.

Vegetables fresh and in season,

Oysters, still wiggling in their green tubs,

huge pans of paella and roasting chickens,

vast flats of cool weather flowers in bloom were all on offer.

This gentleman seemed an unlikely candidate to be a professional basket weaver. But I suppose this craft has been passed down for generations in his family. His products were lovely and you could watch him make them.

***

After a very pleasant lunch at a local restaurant, we made our way up to the house where Leonardo da Vinci spent the last three years of his life, Château du Clos Lucé.

The Renaissance, of course, was born in Italy and Leonardo certainly contributed towards the flowering of art, technology and philosophy there. In Italy, however, he was not highly appreciated in his lifetime, as he was openly homosexual and people like Savonarola preached radically conservative Catholicism to the masses, which made for a atmosphere not open to difference.

François I, the king of France between 1515 and 1547, was an avid patron of the arts and a great admirer of Leonardo. He invited him to come to France and installed him in this jewel-box of a house, just down the road from his castle.

We have been here before, but have only taken the tour once. It was inspiring to see again these rooms. Here is the bed where Leonardo died at the age of 67. Apparently he was very well treated here and his last years spent in France were very happy ones.

Some of the original murals are just visible on corners.

This is the room where Leonardo would meet with the king, who visited him almost every evening for conversation. I think Mina looks like she belongs here.

Many of Leonardo's inventions have been realized as models by local engineering students, and they are on display in the basement of the house. Leonardo was particularly interested in flight, war technology and water works. He designed flying machines, tanks, bridges, locks and paddle boats.

This was, apparently, Leonardo's favorite view from his garden.

We particularly enjoyed strolling around the grounds, which we had never done before. They are vast and lovely.

There are many full-scale working models of some of his designs here.

***

I leave you with the last flowers from the garden. We will be away in England next week, visiting James and Adric and gathering more stories, visiting other castles and taking many more photos. I will meet you back here upon our return.

Autumn Bounty, in the Studio

2011-10-03T10:49:00.000+02:00

The weather is extraordinary...the warmest beginning of October here in a hundred years. We're in the eighties, the sky is crystal blue, the windows flung open and the sunny days harmonize with the golden leaves which flutter to the ground all around us as we stroll through the forest.

This is my favorite time of year. I glory in the generosity of nature. I can't walk fast as I must stop every few moments to gather up some forest gifts that lie about me on the pathway.

I particularly like large acorns, with their charming hats. When I poured them out on my table the other day I found two small worms, fat and white wiggling among them.

At David's house in Grand Champ, where we helped him for a morning clearing one of his overgrown fields, I gathered a basket of chestnuts for roasting and some pine cones for decorating.

He had numerous apple trees and in a matter of moments we had several large crates full.

I also found a hydrangea whose flowers had already begun to dry on the bush. I gathered them up and hung them in our furnace room, next to some lavenders that have been drying there for a month or so.

This time of year one could easily sustain one's self on David's land.

***

David also gave me a large branch from his kiwi tree. I found the leaves very charming and thought they would make very nice prints. My blogging friend, Mariann Ellis is printing leaves in her studio in Spain. Her system is a bit different than mine.

I roll or paint water color on the leaves and then place them on a piece of moistened and stretch watercolor paper. I splash a little extra color around and then cover them with weights, allowing them to sit for a few hours before releasing them.

I like the way the colors reveal the structure of the veins.

They make nice cards, wall hangings, decorative paper for bookmaking or whatever. Fall always includes a little leaf printing.

***

My friend Mary, who was here last month brought me a huge stack of beautiful handmade paper from another friend back home. Leroy is an art professor at San Jose State University and he has been teaching a course on paper-making for years. With the stack was a wonderful note that proclaimed: "make more art with this."

Always liking to follow directions from the people I trust and love, I began to imagine playing with some of the brighter bits. I had some little plywood squares that I painted with various colors and chose a decorative paper to mount on each one.

This seemed like a nice background from which to make some collages.

But I got sidetracked by two of the marbleized papers. I kept seeing images in them. In the orange one it was primarily little people.

For the green one it was birds, mostly ducks.

For the blue one I decided to follow the original plan, which was to cut out some leaves from air-drying clay,

paint and mount them on the board.

I haven't been able to glue anything over the pink one yet, as I like it rather a lot the way it is. I plan to glue some nice white paper on the back so that they can be used as greeting cards.

***

I have had a Martha Stewart book entitled Handmade Christmas, for so long that the pages have fallen out. In it she has a project I've always thought adorable. Making a box from an acorn. Her photo of the results is on the left. Mine, after following her very brief instructions, is on the right. I was so pleased with the results, until the next day. You notice that in both the photos the hollowed out acorn is separated from its little top, where a nice bit of cork has been securely glued. Martha neglects to mention that the shell bit shrinks a lot once it is dried and the two no longer fit one another. Martha! Really.

***

Another wonderful surprise and spur to action came in the form of a delivery from far off Virginia. My blogger friend Janet sent me a prize from her fabric give-away contest. She has a wonderful home decorating blog called The Empty Nest, which I've been following for several years. She's always cooking up something interesting over there and often has fabulous contests. Last winter I won a handmade scarf!

***

I found a sketch book this week which had some dream imagery that I recorded long ago. This is one that has always stayed with me. I intend to develop it into a hard ground etching. It's entitled At the Pool Between Worlds. This is my sketch.

I have developed an illustration website called mymusetta.

***

Nights have also been inspirational this week. Picture us at our apartment window, wide open, with our telescope aimed up at Jupiter. The night sky is incredibly these clear days. Even though we are in a village, there is so little light pollution here that we can see the planets and constellations in all their blazing glory, something impossible at our home in California. With our relatively inexpensive telescope we can see Jupiter's stripes and watch its various moons rotate around the planet. Each evening they are in a completely different position.

The sun is low enough in the sky now too to create those moments, mostly in the morning, when the sun shines through the windows and casts a golden glow on things, picking out particular objects to illuminate. It's a visual feast; I have to keep my camera near at hand.

Catching Up

2011-09-27T13:16:00.000+02:00

Looking to the Rose Room from inside the Blue Room at Maison Conti

We've been home in France for a month, but my blog posts have still been dwelling on our fabulous vacation in Slovenia and Austria. It's time to play catch up. This week I post a whole month's worth of photos so that I can get my life and blog synchronized again! I have so much to share. September has been glorious, social and adventurous. I'll try to keep the writing to a minimum since I'm posting such a profusion of images.

***

A couple we knew from California came to stay with us for two nights early in the month. Ray and Mary are quite brave and daring. They rented a camper to travel around France. They don't know the language, and this was their first visit. Rick and I were impressed! Luckily they have that "can-do" attitude and all along their route we got reports of their adventures via email.

The night after their departure we were happy to welcome Wolfgang and his family, our friends from Germany, who stop by Maison Conti on their way home from their yearly vacation in Brittany. They came loaded with the freshest fish possible (some of them were still alive when we unwrapped them) of various varieties, oysters, prawns, dorade and sole. We had a feast together on the terrace.

***

Our good friends Cass and Billy also came to stay for several days. We had a very lovely time with them. Back home we saw them socially every week. Rick worked with Billy and I worked with Cass. They are one of the reasons we miss California sometimes. The last time they visited was three years ago, so we had lots of catching up.

We took the opportunity to go on a few adventures with them. The weather was perfect. We took them to Lavardin, a beautiful little town on the Loir, south of us but north the the more popular Loire Valley. Lavardin is classified as one of the most beautiful villages of France. It's castle, now in ruins, was built in the 11th century.

The town itself is nestled at the side of a forested hill with the lazy Loir River flowing through the middle of it.

We had never before gone into the church of Saint-Genest. It is an extraordinary building! It was built in the 1000s and was on the Pilgrimage route. The paintings that decorate the walls and ceilings are from the very early part of the Middle Ages. So charming!

We went across the river to visit the troglodyte city of Trôo. This is a city built on a steep hillside. Almost all the residences and shops are built into the cliff faces or in caves.

Rick and Cass scaled to the highest point to take a panorama shot. On the way up Rick snapped this photo of Billy and me talking. I have to say, I really do enjoy a good conversation with Billy!

Atop the hill, there was a breathtaking view of the valley below, with the river running between the treelines.

We took our friends to the château of Chaumont-sur-Loire to visit the yearly garden expositions. A year ago, I reported on this interesting garden competition that invites 25 world-renowned landscape architects to respond to a theme and create a garden space. The results are open to the public between June and October. This year's theme was Garden's of the Future, Happy Biodiversity. Unfortunately the theme seemed to have been a bit too cerebral and some of the designs were heavy on concept but light on actual design or beauty.

Still, it's always a treat to spend a few hours at this site, with its expansive views over the Loire River.

***

Quinn began school this year. He is attending a wonderful bilingual private school located next to Les Buttes Chaumont, one of the most beautiful parks in Paris. It's about a half hour walk from Emily's house to the school. Quinn arrives at 8:45 in the morning and stays until 4:30. He has lunch and a nap there. The classroom is just beautiful and it is all organized wonderfully. I went to pick him up one afternoon and he was so proud to show me his place at the table and some of the things he plays with during the day.

Outside the classroom is a huge pedestrian-only terrace. Rick and I spent a few days in Paris with Quinn while his parents were both working out of town.

We enjoyed our stroll to and from school every day, walking through the park, which was built by order of Napoleon III in 1864. It was a mammoth undertaking, as it is built on the site of an old stone quarry. It took seven years and 200,000 cubic meters of earth to create this large recreational space, made for this historically working class neighborhood.

What a perfect time of the year, with the trees just beginning to turn.

Wednesday Quinn does not go to school so we had a whole day of adventures with him. We started by going to the Grand Palais to see a show of antique games and toys.

I can't resist posting several photos of this exposition. Quinn and I were both utterly enchanted by the displays.

After a nice restaurant lunch, where Quinn was a pleasure to be with, we decided to take a cruise down the canals of Paris. What a great idea!

We started out in a huge underground tunnel that was impossible to photograph. I could picture Jean Valjean here. We passed through several double locks. The boat was lifted 8 feet in a matter of minutes, as the water flowed into the lock.

All along the river are beautiful steel bridges over looking the canal. People watched as we floated under. The ride took a little more than 2 hours from central Paris to the Parc de la Villette, very close to Emily's house.

***

Our friend David, who has a home in Brittany was in residence this month. We carved out a few days to go visit with him. He took us on a tour of his part of the coast. The day was exceptional. We visited the Vannes market in the morning, with lots of people passing through the old gates of the town with their baskets and shopping bags in hand.

Our aim was more to enjoy the old city and its charming architecture. David is an architect in California. I particularly enjoy the old wooden carved and painted figures

There are plenty of half-timbered houses. This one seemed slightly inebriated. Where are those 90º angles?

It's pleasant to walk around town with David, he knows how these old houses are constructed and we always seem to see more of things when we are with him.

In the afternoon he took us to Port Blanc and we caught a ferry to Ile aux Moines, one of several charming islands in the Golfe du Morbihan.

The island is long and thin, surrounded by the bay and protected from ocean surf. This day the sky and water were pure blue.

There are several thatched roof homes on the island. David, being British, was able to explain the entire process and theory behind these structures. They are apparently very sound for at least twenty years, and then the reeds must be changed. Of course, there is a certain way to construct them which takes some technique.

We walked all around the island and enjoyed the many pretty bungalows, with their lovely gardens and views over the water.

We all agreed it was probably just about an absolutely perfect day.

Rick and David both grew up sailing boats, so we spent a certain amount of time enjoying the beautiful dinghies moored and sailed all around the island.

My personal favorite is this traditional Breton style boat with the red-orange sail.

We left the island as the sun was sinking in the west.

We made our way back home on Sunday, stopping in the beautiful Breton village of Josselin for lunch. It is, like Montmirail, a petite cité de caractère, a small, authentic and historically interesting village. It had many half-timbered houses, the style which was prevalent in this area of France in the Middle Ages.

David pointed out to us how much he appreciates the lush flower boxes in many Breton towns.

The castle of Josselin was built in the tenth century.

Now I've caught up to the present. We are expecting a week of exceptionally warm weather. The trees are turning colors and village life has quieted down considerably. Next week I'll share a few fallish stories and photos.

Somewhere in Austria

2011-09-18T12:33:00.000+02:00

Noma in the sandbox which Hannes put together just for our visit to his beautiful home

After our working vacation in Slovenia, taking care of Quinn (nice work when you can get it), we extended our time off by accepting an invitation to join Emily and family at the home of an old friend of Jos' in southern Austria. Hannes and Tamzin spend much of their time in London, where they work as actors, some of their time in Vienna, where Hannes has an apartment, and the rest in Hannes' parents' home in the Austrian Alps close to the Italian border. It is just two hour's drive from Ljubljana. His parents are now too elderly to take care of this amazing place, but lived and worked here into their nineties.

Austria is completely landlocked, bordered by eight other countries: Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Germany, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Slovenia and Italy. It isn't too far a stretch to imagine Heidi living in a chalet here with her good old grandfather, which is just how it seemed to me. (I pictured Shirley Temple as Heidi.)

Hanne's farm is located in a emerald green valley, surrounded by high peaks, with acres of land, bubbling brooks, a swimming hole and alpine trees in abundance.

The house itself is ringed by a fence to keep the horses out. Two, who belong to the family, wander freely outside.

Even though the temperatures were still quite high, the grass was lush.

We had met Hannes before but had never seen him in his native habitat. Here he starts a fire where later we will roast fish and lamb.

Tamzin is British and met Hannes in London. She was a wonderful hostess and served an entire house full of people meal after meal, dressed always in an assortment of lovely sundresses.

Hannes' 14 year old son Max was also there. We became very fond of him. When asked what he wanted to do when he grew up, he said he wanted to live here and would be studying to be a veterinarian. This did seem the perfect place to grow up.

Emily, Jos and Quinn stayed at Hannes and Tamzin's house, along with the McBurney family, Simon, Cassey, Noma and Teyo. Simon and Jos went to school together in Paris and co-founded Complicité, a theater company in London. Simon has acted in several movies you may have seen, The Last King of Scotland, Friends With Money and The Manchurian Candidate to name a few.

His wife Cassey is a gifted concert pianist. You can hear her perform here. She was in Austria to perform at the Salzberg Arts Festival. We had the happy opportunity to hear her perform at a nearby music school.

Cassey is also crazy about her own children and everyone else's, the three little ones followed her as if she were the pied pipper.

Feeding the goats in the morning was one of Quinn's favorite activities.

He also took advantage of a plastic bucket and sprinkler to cool off.

All meals were taken outdoors. It was a jolly group and a very relaxed few days.

Be sure to click on this photo taken at sunset one evening. It really is evocative of the long lazy days and evenings we spent there.

Although we spent our waking hours with the group at Hannes', we didn't sleep at the house as there were simply not enough beds for everyone, so we took a B&B room close to the lake, which is at the bottom of their mountaintop. The first morning when we awoke, I saw this beautiful mist which clung to the land.

We took several outings, as the entire countryside is extraordinarily beautiful. The view from one mountain gives a sense of the majesty of the alps, foothills and alpine villages tucked into grassy valleys.

One of our favorite adventures, was taking a boat ride from one end of the Weissensee Lake, to the other. This is a particularly unspoilt lake, with very little of its shoreline developed. Our cruise was over an hour long, providing magnificent views along the way.

Our pilot gave us a bit of a history and geology lesson along the way, which Jos translated from the German for us. Very little English is spoken in this part of the world.

The color of the water changes as one travels down the water. It is a narrow, but extremely long lake.

At the end we disembarked and had lunch at a lovely restaurant. I had good old fashioned hot dogs with mustard, a Austro/German invention. We were right on the water and Quinn could hardly wait to get on his swimming gear.

It was such a pleasant place for a dip. We all went in. Emily is beginning to show the progress being made towards growing Quinn's brother or sister, due to arrive on the scene early next year.

The lake near our B&B is less dramatic, but just as nice for swimming, and quite a bit closer to where we were staying. We went there every evening without fail.

Another day we went hiking at Die Garnitzenklamm, probably one of the most beautiful places I've ever been in my life. Miles of trails led though forested pathways, with the clearest mountain stream imaginable coursing past.

I loved the sign at the trail head:

And with good reason. The rocks in this part of the world are enormous and each winter more of them are displaced and pushed down the mountainside by ice and snow.

I have never seen water more clear and pure, nor rocks so beautifully arranged by the forces of nature.

this is another photo worth clicking on for a larger view. The various colors of the stones and the absolute transparency of the water make this a remarkable image.

I guess my idea of paradise is something like this mountain, with its bubbling river, splashing down its side. Of course in the spring this dainty brook turns into a raging force, able to toss boulders around as if they were rubber balls.

All along the trail, one saw little sculptures that a passing hiker stopped to create. The stones did invite endless play.

The beauty of the Austrian alps is supreme. As we drove back to Ljubljana to catch our flight home to Paris, we enjoyed our last glimpses of the charm of the countryside.

Next week I will bring you back with me to France.

I ♡ Slovenia

2011-09-12T15:15:00.001+02:00

A narrow alleyway in Piran where one can climb stairs from the sea to the hill.

Piran is the prettiest city on Slovenia's coast. Located just south of the northeastern border of Italy, near Trieste, where the top of the boot curves around, it retains that very Mediterranean flavor. It was once an important harbor of the Roman Empire and the Venetians influenced it's architectural development.

We didn't have time to spend more than part of a day on the coast, but I really wanted to have a view of the Adriatic, which I had never visited. From Ljubljana, nothing is more than a two hour drive, so we took Quinn and headed to the sea. We were not disappointed.

The Adriatic Sea separates the Italian peninsula from the Balkan peninsula, it runs up the back of the boot. The color of the water is clear blue. All the roofs of Piran are red tile and the buildings are white stucco, making the views over the town spectacular.

We parked at the top of the hill behind old town Piran and had our picnic lunch. We then discovered a labyrinth of small alleyways, schoolyards, backyards and restaurants that led steeply downwards toward the harbor. Stone steps were often cracked and broken away, no doubt having been laid hundreds of years before. All along the descent, we caught glimpses of this idyllic city nestled in its little half moon of land.

The harbor itself was filled with beautiful sailing vessels. The sea was calm and inviting.
Rick and Quinn stuck a toe in the water before we ascended our secret stairway and headed out for our next adventure.

***

When I was young, I had a horse and belonged to the Pony Club, where I learned to ride in the English style, jump steeples and the whole nine yards. I wore the jodhpurs, boots, coat and velvet hard hat. I carried a little leather crop. Every one of my riding buddies wanted nothing more than to visit Vienna and see a show of the Lipizzaner horses. These incredible animals are able to perform choreographed movements which seem beyond the physical capability of the animal.

I had no idea, however, that these lovely horses, which almost always turn pure white, no matter what their birth color, were originally from Slovenia. When I learned that the Lipizzaner came from the village of Lipica, and that they gave demonstrations there on a few days a week during the summer, I made sure we could arrive at the appointed hour and in so doing, fulfill a very long-held dream.

Nowadays, there are many places in the world that raise the Lippizzaner, but Lipica is reputed to be their birthplace. The purpose of the stables is to breed and train the horses for the Spanish and Viennese exhibition centers, where they do their performances. In Lipica, the performances are only occasional and the horses are not yet graduates of the program. Still they were very skilled.

There are various shows all performed to classical music. It's entirely enchanting to watch them go through their paces.

After the show we were able to tour the stables, meet some of the beasts and hear a lively story about their history. For all of us, including Quinn, who is already a horse lover, it was a wonderful afternoon. If you want to see them in action, you can view some of their amazing and distinctive movements here and here:

***

By the end of our week in Slovenia, we had experienced some of its many charms. We fully intend to make it a habit to go there. It is less than a two hour plane ride from Paris to Ljubljana. It seems such a relaxed, beautiful and undiscovered playground.

Emily and Jos were happy with the results of their week with Lois, putting wooden objects together in interesting ways. They had a paper river, instruments which were played in mechanical ways, a set of closet doors, suspended from the ceiling which could be made to flap like a butterfly, by means of turning a wooden sifter which animated a row of wooden spoons which somehow got the doors to flying. It was wonderfully clever as an installation, lit to form intriguing shadows. But they also had a musical and theatrical component which brought their theme Holz, alive: wooden objects, all longing to reunite with the forest.

It has now been several weeks since coming back to France and normal daily life continues to provide lots of interesting tales, but I'm not quite finished recounting our vacation. Next week I'll share some photos and stories of Austria. After that, I'll bring it all back home.

Quinn discovered a bunny suit at the house we were staying in.

Slovenia Blue

2011-09-03T15:28:00.000+02:00

After Finland and Sweden, Slovenia is the most forested country in Europe. About half of its territory is covered in trees. It has the happy distinction of being a small country nestled between the Adriatic Sea and Alps, creating a huge diversity of habitats, including stunning lakes and rivers. We spent some of almost every day in the water.

The most famous lake is Bled, a spectacular turquoise blue, warm lake, perfect for swimming and boating. At one end, on a forested little island is a beautiful church, and towering above, on an impossibly steep and narrow cliff is the Bled castle.

Almost every shot I took could have been a picture postcard. Bled is also a resort town, attracting many visitors, especially on a hot day in mid-August. There are numerous activities, splendid walking paths next to the lake, and hiking trails in the mountains above. One can swim, rent various types of boats, eat in a variety of restaurants from the humble to the exalted, gamble in the casino or picnic and sun bathe on the shore. It didn't feel crowded at all.

Swans and ducks posed for photos and eagerly accepted handouts. Quinn found this quite enthralling as the swans were almost as big as he.

We had wanted to rent a sailboat, but changed our minds as the sun was fierce and we were a bit concerned for our lily-white charge. Besides, we had heard that there was another even more beautiful lake further down the road, so after a couple of hours we decided to push on.

We ditched the crowds and headed for Bohinj, another lake at a slightly higher elevation which was reputed to be colder, but more secluded. We went eastwards up the mountainous road.

When we got to the lake, Quinn had fallen asleep, so we continued on up the mountain. We went as far as it would take us before the road ended in a large parking area. This was a trail head which led up the mountain next to a crystal clear stream. We managed to transfer Quinn into his backpack and headed up the trail.

Anyone who knows me is aware of how much mountain rivers and streams thrill me to the very core. I can almost see the sprites and fairies dancing along the surface and singing along with the rushing water. This one, with its incredibly huge boulders, looking for all the world as if a couple of giants had been tossing them carelessly around, was particularly charming. The air was hot and the water cold, a perfect combination.

When Quinn woke up, he was anxious to get down to the water's edge. He scrambled around the boulders like a little mountain goat and we followed behind as fast as we could. He isn't old enough to be afraid yet.

On our way back down the mountainside we stopped at Bohinj lake for a swim. I'm not sure if it is prettier than Bled, but it was quite pleasant to spend a few hours on its banks and dip ourselves into the water. After the icy cold river, it seemed quite warm to us.

Quinn had his water wings and floating alligator. He positively adores the water, just like his mother before him. Once, when Emily was about ten, a friend of mine dared her to stay in a very cold California lake by telling her he would pay her one dollar for every minute she remained in the water. I knew he was making a huge error in judgement. After twenty minutes I told her she really had to come out, my poor friend would likely have gone broke. She could have stayed in forever.

After Quinn's dip, while we were sitting on a blanket in the shade watching him, he performed a kind of conducting ritual towards the water, as if to cast a spell.

Any trip through the Slovenian countryside is bound to take one past numerous enchanting little churches. There is one on every hillside and in every village. Their steeples look rather Russian in influence to me, you see nothing like them in France.

On another hot day, we went to the Iska river for a splash. This little area is only a twenty minute drive from Ljubljana. It was positively crammed with cars and people, but again, no one got in our way and no one made the crowd seem too crowdy. There was no loud music, no screaming children, no annoying behavior of any kind. We all just found our corner of the riverbank, and staked out our section of water and got on perfectly well together.

The water was so low that everyone used it like a road, just walking down the center. I love the rocky river bottom, it encourages the making of bridges and dams.

We all had our water shoes on, as without them the stones are a bit hard on the feet. Quinn floated and cavorted and in general had another wonderful watery day.

Discovering Ljubljana

2011-08-28T14:41:00.000+02:00

Emily enjoys the Baroque facades in old town

After almost two weeks of vacation in places we'd never been, with weather worthy of California, we are feeling massively restored. What wonderful adventures we had, meeting fabulous people, staying in incredible places and viewing extraordinary landscapes. I took almost 600 photographs, as everywhere I looked there was something to seduce the eye. I will have several weeks worth of post material from on our short escape into southeastern Europe.

We begin in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. Emily and Jos have a residency at the summer festival organized and run for twenty years by an old friend, Nevinka. This summer they began a first exploration of a project which will continue to develop as the months and years go on. It's called Holz, the German word for wood. They are working with an Austrian friend Lois (pronounced not in the American way but more like Loyce.) He is a master carpenter and set designer. He has worked with some very well known artists and theater companies. The three of them spent all day for a week in a room together creating an installation. It was something completely new for all of them. I will post photos and details later. In the meantime, they required some assistance in entertaining Quinn, and this was the job that fell to us. It's nice work if you can get it. And it provided a very good excuse to join them on vacation even if it is high season in our business! We rarely get away in the balmy months of the year.

Slovenia has many charms, and its capital city is one of them. Ljubljana is among the smallest European capitals, with about 280,000 residents. It is attractive and walkable, with a beautiful river running right through the middle. On the street English is not the language one hears. We always feel like we're on a real vacation when we don't often hear our own language or meet our fellow countryman around every corner. Tourists in this city are more often Italian, Austrian or German, Yet, in general, most Slovenians speak some English. At least the young, and since Ljubljana is a city of young, dynamic individuals, we had quite an easy time of it, despite not having a word of Slovenian to offer up. One would have to describe the average Slovenian you meet on the street as friendly. It's such a warm and happy place.

And it was warm, literally between 35-39ª C (95-102ª F) every day we were there.

The city is surrounded by forested mountains, the historic buildings are from the Baroque period and everywhere the roofs are red tile. A thousand year old castle looks down upon the old town. All this makes Ljubljana an extremely attractive city.

Saint Nicolas Cathedral is at the center of the old town. The first church to be built in this spot was in the 13th century. The current structure was built in the 17th.

The bronze door is impressive. The handle is kept polished by the many hands which touch it every day.

The interior is sumptuous with paintings by Italian masters depicting miracles of Nicolas, the patron saint of fishermen.

It's pleasant to walk around the city, as the center is a pedestrian-only zone. There are expansive squares,

and everywhere you are close to the river.

The architecture is glorious and the colors bright.

The streets tend to be wide and so even if there are other people, one never feels crowded. Unlike Prague, Ljubljana has not yet been overrun by tourists.

There are lots of bikes, bikers. They have a rental system like Paris.

Some of the buildings are kept in pristine condition while some others have been allowed to fade a bit. These were among the most charming.

The palette used on the buildings is unexpected.

A network of bridges crosses the river from one bank to the other, and the quays are verdant.

The water changed colors through out the day.

The most famous of the bridges is the Dragon Bridge, which was two blocks from the gallery where Jos, Emily and Lois made their installation. Quinn became excited each time we crossed it, which was always at least twice in a day. He called it the "Dragonah-bridge" pronouncing the words with something of an Italian accent. The dragon is the symbol of Ljubljana. There were four such bronze dragon statues, one at each corner.

The Tromostovje (Three Bridges) is at the heart of the city. It seems quite Venetian to me.

All along the river you find cafes and restaurants. Eating and drinking are favorite pastimes. The restaurants are inspired. We had some remarkable meals here.

There is also a lot of commerce throughout the city, with open air crafts markets everywhere. The produce market is open most mornings and has stands of the freshest and best produce available anywhere, as every single stand offers only small local farmers produce. This is not always the case in the markets we have here in France, where many vendors are resellers and not necessarily producers.

Here is the only place where we found that no one spoke English at all. These are the traditional Slovenians who spend their time in the garden, not on the internet. We particularly liked this woman who specialized in beans. She had several varieties, but nothing else.

Once a week there is an antique/flea market where Jos, Emily and Lois found many of the things they used for their project. We really enjoyed browsing this seemingly endless row of stands. There were some unique pieces with reasonable prices.

One evening we came into town just as the sun was setting. All the buildings were bathed in pink light. As we were in the car, it was only my eyes, and not my camera, that could take in the sight. This was the best I could do after we had parked. It was a memorable vision.

Night life in Ljubljana is swinging, though not loud or obnoxious. Lots of restaurants on the streets were open to welcome people for a leisurely meal after a long hot day.

En vacances

2011-08-13T16:28:00.001+02:00

This week we took a walk through the forest of Vibraye. I've often talked in this blog about the forest of Montmirail, which has trails that begin just a few steps from our front door, but until this week, we'd never actually visited the much larger Vibraye forest, down the hill from our house a few kilometers.

France has a wonderful system of public trails. One could easily walk from the top of the country to the bottom following them. In fact people do, as they follow the route to Santiago de Compostela, they follow more than a 1000 miles of well-maintained trails. When I worked in Berkeley, I found Fodor's Short Escapes in France at a local bookstore. It was filled with wonderful walks, many of which we've enjoyed following. Practically every tourist office and bookstore sells directions for local trails. The French love to walk and they have a very well organized system of trails. It's easy to follow them, as you are given distinctive blazes on trees or posts to mark the route.

It was a wonderful sunny day and the light filtered through the trees casting lacy patterns on the wide pathways. We were by no means alone. The trail attracts hikers, bikers, joggers and strollers. The forest itself is logged responsibly, trees replanted and all kept neat and tidy. Along the way we saw large stacks of logs.

It was an incredibly green space, filled with deciduous hardwood trees, possibly beeches, supporting an understory of luscious ferns. I vowed to return for an autumn walk without fail.

***

I got quite a few things almost done in the atelier, although I'm not ready to share them quite yet. I also did a little more decorating in the boutique, to attract window shoppers. I made several garlands of cut up prints and paintings, strung them on embroidery thread and hung them in the window. I then added a few transparent polka dots of rice paper to the windows themselves.

view of our boutique window from the outside looking in and the inside looking out

Rick framed most of my prints and we have a display wall for them. He did a very nice job.

***

We are leaving on vacation tomorrow, staying in Ljubljana, Slovenia for one week, providing childcare for Quinn while Emily and Jos put together a theater festival there. A second week will be spent with the three of them in the Austrian Alps.

I expect to come back with lots of stories to tell and photos to share, but until the end of August, this blog will be silent.

Happy end of summer!

Swan Lake

2011-08-08T13:51:00.003+02:00

It has been a rather quiet week. One might suppose that this would be a busy month in our business, but just the opposite is true. Most of the country is at the coast right now and we've had a week of calm, with only the occasional visitor.

We used the opportunity to get a few other things accomplished around the house, such as refinishing our computer desk. Unfortunately I have no before photo to share with you, but imagine this pretty table lacquered in thick mat black. It looked rather like a table for a Chinese restaurant. The top was covered with felt. Green felt when we first purchased it, green like a billiard table and with large holes here and there. There is a rather embarrassing story to tell of trying to purchase a new piece of felt to recover it.

French is all about the vowels and how you pronounce them is really critical in making yourself understood. Although the difference in the sound of eu as opposed to ou is subtle to the American ear, it makes a world of difference to a French one. When I asked a nice man at the fabric store for some felt, I meant to say feutre, but instead asked for foutre, which is an entirely different request. Put delicately, as it is in my dictionary, I was asking to be "possessed sexually." Hmm. Luckily Jos was with me and stepped between me and the salesman to take over the transaction for me.

In the end I did get the felt, without the other and we recovered the table in a maroon felt. This was four years ago. Suffice it to say that my mouse did not like the fuzzy felt and the fuzzy felt didn't much care for the mouse either. Another large hole developed just where the mouse rests. When we went to the Marché Saint Pierre in Paris a few weeks back, I found a nice piece of white naugahyde for just a few euros. It seemed the right thing. Leather would be really wonderful, but dreadfully expensive, even if such a big piece could be located. My idea, while we were at recovering the table top, was also to strip off the black paint, down to the bare wood and then whitewash the thing.

After two days and every stripping technique known to man, two caustic chemicals, sand paper, steel wool, wire brushes, electric sanding machines and even a blow torch, we had to admit that removing all the black was going to mean removing the very nice carved flowers as well. So I settled instead for the blackwash look. I like it. It's a great improvement.

I am in the middle of various studio projects, working slowly along. The only recent finished products are these collages which I had quite a lot of fun creating on top of old paintings.

I have spent the week writing about rivers for my family website. It created an urge to get out the kayaks and hit the water. We invited our ever-enjoyable neighbors, Anne and Christine to join us.

We drove just a few kilometers down the road to a very nice lake in Le Plessis-Dorin. It's a fisherman's paradise. Anne and Christine helped unpack the kayaks, which rest so nicely on the top of the car on a rack we've had for that purpose for years. It luckily fits our little French Renault as well as it did our Saab in the U.S.

A family of swans greeted us as we approached the lake, probably hoping for a few crusts of bread, but when they saw our boats, daddy swan hissed and squawked, shooing his group away. The fisherman did much the same, not liking to share their lake with boating people. A representative was sent over to demand our authorization papers. We had received permission from the mayor, but they insisted we call him to verify for their benefit. The mayor gave us the go-ahead and we promised the fisherman to stay far away from the left bank, where they were set up with their lawn chairs, coolers filled with beer and bait, and their handmade fishing poles.

Anne was enthusiastic to get going. She looked chic in her safety vest. Unfortunately only one person can fit in a boat, so we had to take turns.

Off she and Rick went towards the calm end of the lake.

Christine and I were next. I love the quiet that one experiences on the water. It was utterly still on the far reaches of the right bank except for the sound of the wind in the reeds, the call of the herons and ducks and the slapping of the paddles as they scooped up the water to propel us forward. We didn't talk at all.

Anne and Christine were enthusiastic about the adventure and we all decided to do more of this, but next time in four kayaks.

Of course this sky photo (crows above a field), is just for you, Janet.

Celebrating Summer

2011-08-01T17:01:00.002+02:00

Fireworks over the castle of Montmirail

This week brought many happy meetings and celebrations. Our old neighbors the Tireaus from Les Alpes Mancelles invited us to lunch.

La Moulin de la Ribotière, our first house in France

We had been very close to this wonderful family when we first moved to France and lived in a little moulin, but we'd let far too much time flow past without being in touch. It had been well over a year since seeing them. They are among the sweetest most generous people we know. They made our transition to this country a real pleasure. Their youngest daughter Phillippine was just eight when we first met. She is now fifteen. Aurore, who I always felt very close to was a young teenager.

She is now a grown woman, working as a professional pâtissière. She lives in Caen and works at a chic pastry shop. Happily for us, she was home visiting and for lunch made us a special chocolate raspberry tart.

It was not only exceptionally pretty, but absolutely delicious as well.

After lunch we walked with them down our old driveway and visited our first French home in the middle of the forest. It really is like Hansel and Gretel's place.

***

Later in the week Leyla came by for a day of etching. She was keen to develop and reprint her dragon image, which she made here last year. It was George's, (her father's) birthday and she wanted to surprise him with the image.

Leyla and her mother Sophie

***

At the weekend Montmirail had its annual fête médiévale. In anticipation, I got our shop cleaned up and presentable, adding a bit of decoration.

The village becomes very lively for two days with dozens of activities, demonstrations and vendors selling everything from medieval costumes to bubble gum... not a product I associate with that moment in history. But there's no doubt that the village itself is the real McCoy. Many thousands of people pour into town to enjoy it all.

Within an hour of its closing, all the stands had been taken down. This morning the flags and signs were removed, all the stray garbage collected, and every trace that it ever happened completely erased. It's as if everyone else in town were just as anxious as we to have life back to its quiet simplicity. Still, the festival really supports the community finacially.

Our guests this weekend were vendors and all entertaining characters. Here in France on summer days and nights in small villages there are events of every kind put on by local communities to entertain the vacationing public.

***

Summer has appeared again, with pretty blue skies, warm temperatures and twittering birds.

Noon in Paris, Midnight in Paris

2011-07-25T09:20:00.000+02:00

Montmirail is getting decked out for the Medieval Festival, happening next weekend

Having a few days free, we took the opportunity to roll to Paris to help Emily with some projects, do some errands and, of course, see Quinn. Most day-to-day purchases can be made locally, but when I need specialty art supplies, health food items or fabric, I either go to Le Mans or Paris. This week I needed all these.

I love shopping for sewing supplies in Paris, where dozens of shops selling every kind of fabric or notion you could ever imagine, are all clustered around the base of Montmartre. In the U.S. vendors seem to have the idea that you don't want to have a shop too close to the competition. Another mindset prevails here. I can only imagine that the shop owners understand the advantage to the customer of having so many similar stores huddled together in one place and that the success of the competitor can be your success as well. Their clients are bound to pop into your shop.

The Marché Saint Pierre is the most venerable and largest fabric emporium in Paris. I don't think it has changed much since this photo was taken. It has 5 floors of fabric with worn wooden stairways leading up and down and a small ancient elevator with a small ancient operator who calls out the floors as you ascend and descend. Tickets are hand written and rung up in the old fashioned way. The sales people are generally cranky and difficult to flag down, which only adds to the charm and quirkiness of the place. When we were there this week, we saw a tour group with a guide pontificating in English. Her band of American travelers were clustered around, hanging on her every word. It seemed amusing to me that a fabric store has become a tourist destination.

On another day we went to my favorite art store in all the world, Sennelier. which I've written about several times in this blog. The shop has been in business since the later part of the 1800s, and provided supplies to Cezanne and Picasso among others. They sell their own brand of paint and pastels, some of the best available. I went to purchase a certain kind of ink which is entirely permanent and waterproof. I know of no other place to find it.

We took the metro from Emily's to Place Saint Michel and walked down the rue Saint Andre des Arts, stopping at Paul for Lunch. The last time we were there, it was with our friends Richard and Marta, who we think about very often indeed and miss profoundly, so we paid homage to them by having the same menu item and sitting in the same dining room, looking out on the same scene. That original lunch has been the subject of excellent daydreams ever since. They have an item which begins with a nice big potato pancake, smeared with tapenade, piled high with green salad, with prosciutto ham at the top and a dollop of creme fraîche for good measure. I don't know if it was because we weren't with our friends, or if the real cook is on vacation, but the lunch we were served did not match the memory. The pancake was floppy instead of crispy, the lettuce was tired instead of happy, and the waiter was rude rather than friendly. All around us the conversations were in English. We couldn't help but feel all day that Paris is just not itself during July and August.

We strolled down the rue Jacob towards the Quai Voltaire and Sennelier, only to find that it would be closed for lunch for another half hour. No problem. The store is located right on the river across from the Louvre and the Tuileries.

The moment was particularly fine, with the sun playing hide and seek, the weather neither hot nor cold and the water an attractive gray green. The views as you cross over to the right bank are exceptionally pretty, the old bridges beautiful.

In the distance you see the Grand and Petit Palaces. You are just a few steps from the Musee d'Orsay.

The traffic was relatively light as most locals are out of town this time of year.

We found a quiet corner in the garden. I call this picture where to be in Paris in July.

I call this one where not to be in Paris in July. This view of the Louvre was taken from the bench we were sitting upon to await the 2PM opening of Sennelier. If you have any choice in the matter, you should not come to Paris in August, but if you must, it's better to avoid all the usual tourist spots, unless waiting in long lines and meeting many other English-speakers is your idea of fun.

I was amazed by the friendly (aggressive?) crows in the garden, which really are the size of a cat.

After the art store we raced back to the Odeon neighborhood to catch a movie in VO (original version). It's one we'd been wanting to see ever since it's big debut in May at the Cannes Film Festival... and that would be Midnight in Paris. It's called Woody's love letter to Paris and since we're every bit as smitten by this grand old city, we enjoyed every single moment. We were particularly excited when we noticed on the credits that Stéphane Foenkinos, a good friend of our neighbors Anne and Christine, was the French casting director for the film. We had no idea that he had done that work. By amazing coincidence, we had invited him over to our house on Saturday evening, as we had heard he would be visiting Montmirail for the weekend. He is a guy I immediately fell in love with the moment I met him. He is not only utterly charming and warm, but he speaks perfect English too... which in my case is a very big advantage for developing a happy relationship.

We also enjoyed watching the ultra brief scene where Owen Wilson exits the bookshop Shakespeare and Company across from Notre Dame. In November, when Rick's sister was visiting, we watched them setting up that shot. We had intended to go inside, but it was blocked off by the crew.

It was rather wonderful to exit the movie theater and actually be in Paris. In fact, having seen the film at UGC Odeon, our first sight directly across the street upon walking out was their twin cinema, UGC Danton, which also appears briefly in the movie.

***

Quinn was in fine form as usual. His language acquisition skills carry on apace. He is now beginning to translate between his three languages, so obviously he seems to have the concept.

Jos did a wonderful routine for Quinn, wearing a clown nose and doing some funny business with a hat. He then gave Quinn a nose and hat too and Quinn had a crack at the gags. He is a adept pupil of performance. He probably won't grow up to be a scientist. But then, who ever knows?

It was hard to get him to sit still for a shot. He doesn't care for being photographed.

***

Once back home we had the great pleasure of seeing the neighbors and Stéphane. We enjoyed the stories he regaled us with about working with Woody and Carla Bruni. He also brought us a catalog of a project he had created at a Paris gallery with a couple of his friends, and which we had unhappily missed, called 55 Ecrivaines. The show received rave reviews.

It really was an extraordinary idea, which began simply enough. Apparently he was at a friend's one day when he pulled up his turtle neck sweater and slouched down in an easy chair. His friend was struck by how much he resembled the French writer, Marguerite Duras. She photographed him and they both laughed about it. After showing it to several people, who all remarked on the resemblance, and encouraging the two of them to make more, they began to photograph Stéphane in the guise of many different feminine writers. The photos are amazing, as he seems to capture an essence of each writer. His face seems to be easily altered to fit his subjects. Here's just a sample of four from the book:

***

After weeks of rain, the hills are green again. Just like velvet. The weather is still mild, but sunny, warm days are predicted for the coming week. Our bird population has gone quiet. Do they think it's time to migrate already?

One of the things I miss about California are hummingbirds. We don't have them here. However, during summer months we do have this enchanting creature, a hummingbird hawkmoth. I had never seen one before moving here. He's about the size of a big moth, but for all the world looks and acts just like a miniature hummingbird.

Summer Diversions

2011-07-18T16:26:00.000+02:00

They're calling it "autumn in July." It's true that our weather this year has not followed normal, expected patterns. We've broken a few records at both ends of the thermometer's scale. Last November we had full on winter, with a massive snow storm and the mercury plummeting, fully six weeks earlier than normal and quite a bit colder than usual. In April, when one would imagine mild spring weather, we had scorching summery temperatures that went on for weeks. This is virtually unheard of. Our hills turned brown, reminding me of California, such an unusual sight over here. Now we're in the middle of a low pressure system, bringing driving rain with chilly days and nights. The Virginia Creeper on the house is already turning red. The natural world around us is very confused indeed! Apparently the earth's axis shifted slightly with the huge earthquake in Chile last year and of course our protective atmospheric cover is being eroded at a tremendous clip, leaving us much more vulnerable to the vagaries and intensity of weather systems. I don't think there is yet a new normal, but old forms have been flung out the window, that is fairly clear.

***

We met one of our local aristocrats lately. Last weekend we hosted a couple who were attending a nearby wedding. They announced to us that the wife's sister, who is a widow living not far from us, would like to meet us and show us her manoir. Sure enough, she arrived at the door a few days later to extend her personal invitation for tea. What an adventure! Firstly, discovering her house was a revelation. From the public road you see only this:

The hills around are farm land and there is no reason to think that this inconspicuous grassy pathway would lead anywhere other than to a humble farm house. Far from it. I couldn't take photos of the house without being incredibly obnoxious and gauche, although I longed to do so. I snapped a portion of the front of the house quickly as we were driving away. You can perhaps get a small concept of how pretty and grand it is. What you don't have is a sense of the complex of buildings or the gorgeous parkland surrounding the house.

In back is a breathtaking view over rolling hills, a forest and a large lake with a resident pair of herons. Quite extraordinary! The amazing part of Madame's story is that a part of her family immigrated to the United States in the nineteenth century and made a big name for themselves over there. Her great-great grandfather opened Sloanes Department Store in New York, another relative had one of the largest gold mines in California. One of her cousins, William Sloane Coffin, was a famous peace activist during the Vietnam War and still another is the current prosecutor for New York City (the one heading up the Strauss-Kahn case).

***

Big things went on in town this weekend. First there was an exposition of antique cars. All built before 1915. They still function, as later in the day their drivers got into them and motored off.

One of our favorites was the Ford, with all those beautiful brass fittings, leather upholstery and simplicity of design.

Take a look at those incredible wooden spokes:

***

In the afternoon we had a horse race at the local track. This is its third year of operation.

***

We have farmers markets nearby three times a week. Frankly, we don't always go, as it is a drive and it must be planned for. Besides, the supermarket has very high quality, locally grown produce. When we do go, however, it is always a sensuous treat. There are certain specialty items not available at the big store.

You can't get fresh butter or some of those handmade cheeses at the supermarket. The fresh butter is one of those things that is beyond description. What a treat.

***

Making Some Jelly, Feeding the Babies

2011-07-14T13:04:00.000+02:00

Our garden is encircled by currant bushes (groseilles), which every year at this time ripen to a bright red. Each year I wish to myself that the bushes were blueberries or blackberries. Currants have seemed to me to be a ridiculous fruit. They have very little flesh and a huge pit, making them not at all delectable to eat. You see them as a garnish in some restaurants, and that can be pretty, but its the only practical use I could imagine putting them to. Locals had mentioned that they make a nice jelly, but I was skeptical, since not only are the fruit mostly pit, but the flesh itself is far from tasty and sweet.

Then I happened upon a recipe by David Lebovitz, author of my favorite food blog. He used to work at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, but now lives in Paris and always has great ideas for places to go and things to cook. When I saw how easy it was to make currant jelly, I decided it was worth the trouble. Besides, Emily was on hand and she chided me for letting them all go to waste. I gathered up a basket full of the very last of the harvest and decided to give it a try. The recipe is called "Currant Jam", but in fact it is a jelly.

The first step is easy enough. Just clean the berries, add a small amount of water to cover the bottom of a pot, add fruit and boil until the berries are wilted, stirring frequently. David doesn't even recommend taking off the stems, but I did. It doesn't take any time to do it.

Once soft, the berries are crushed and put through a fine sieve to make a bright red liquid. It's at this point you add the sugar. The recipe calls for weighing the berry mixture and adding the same weight in very fine sugar. I didn't have that much on hand so I put less than half that amount. I was sure it would make it so the jelly wouldn't jell.

Emily suggested cooking up some peaches to combine with the tart currants in some of the jars. She added sugar and apples (for pectin), which were removed after cooking. The sugar was stirred into the berries just until it melted, then the mixture was left undisturbed on the stove at a rolling boil for 5 minutes. Voila. That's all there is to it.

We put the plain currants and the currant with peaches in combination in sterilized jars. Turning them upside down seals them. You leave them until they cool. Storing them in a refrigerator is not a bad idea either, according to David.

I was very pleased with the results, which did jell, quite beautifully and the jelly itself is delicious. Not tart but not at all too sweet. Of course we'll be serving this to our guests.

***

This is the moment in the season where the baby birds are learning to fly. Apparently, however, they're still too young and inexperienced to catch their own food. The last few evenings, right outside our top story window, some swallow babies (hirondelles) sit and wait as their parents swoop past, giving them a morsel to eat and flying off for more. This goes on for several hours between 5 and 8 in the evening.

The babies are as big or even bigger than the slender mother who never stops to rest from her task.

The babies themselves fly from one end of the roof to the other, but don't leave their perch for long for fear of missing their meal.

It's hard to capture the beauty of these little creatures, as their coloring is very subtle and translates as black and white in the photos. In truth their faces are a deep red and the top of their heads and backs are midnight blue.

Adult swallow rarely land, as their legs and feet are not made for perching. They swoop through our courtyard with grace and ease. Summer begins when the swallows come to town. The season will end when they leave again. In the meantime, I am really getting to enjoy them.

If you want to see a larger version of the photos, be sure to click on them.

***

Happy July 14th from France! It's not called Bastille Day over here, even though it does mark the day that prison was stormed. More often it's know as la Fête Nationale or just le 14 julliet.

Here We Go Again

2011-07-11T14:19:00.000+02:00

They say that everything changes but change itself. I like to keep that concept alive! If you're viewing my blog from a feed or reader, then you won't be able to notice that I've changed my banner once again. As I mentioned when I introduced you to Musetta a few weeks ago, she is a very demanding character. I've grown fond of her, but the time she requires renders the posting schedule of my blog much slower than I'd like. I have made a new website for her and I'll be working on that throughout the coming year, without any time pressure, I can give her the kind of attention she deserves. In the meantime, I am reverting to my former format. I have had several friends write to say they miss the local news. And frankly there's quite a lot of it these days. We're rolling along in high season and have some interesting events and travels on the horizon. So we're here and there in France again, my friends.

***

This past weekend brought a visit from Quinn and Emily. Jos was in Munich performing his one man show so the family came to stay, since we were not fully booked.

There is always so much to do when Quinn is at home. Certainly there are the trains, which he can hardly get enough of. He has lately discovered my collection of tin soldiers, so they are a new interest as well. There is also always some kind of art project. This time we made an owl mask and Quinn enjoyed whoo-hooing, flapping his wings and showing it off to our clients. In the opening photo, he is helping me in the press room. He likes to turn the big wheel, although he's still a little bit short!

Emily begins each morning with the yoga stretches and poses Salutation to the Sun. Quinn and Rick followed along.

Certainly we also took several walks. On our first one through the woods, we stopped by the park for a slide and teeter.

We also picked some small yellow and red plums that litter the ground on the entrance to the forest this time of year. Quinn ate his fill and then some.

On Sunday we had a picnic and a boating adventure in La Ferté-Bernard, the biggest city in our area. The town is criss-crossed by fingers of the Huisne River and one can rent little electric boats to putter along a rather long stretch of the river. It was a wonderful way to spend a warm afternoon, so relaxing and cool. We floated past the ancient gates to the city and under low bridges that cross the waterways.

***

Earlier in the week, the Tour de France passed not too far from us so we drove out to watch the riders pass by. It's such a strange spectator sport, as it takes time to drive to your spot, park, walk out to the route, wait for quite awhile for the race to arrive. Zip zip, they pass you by in a matter of seconds, followed then by an endless procession of support cars and media. Frankly, I prefer tennis.

Garden Visit

2011-07-04T10:40:00.000+02:00

One of my favorite views of our village. So little has changed in 300 years.

Hello friends. Musetta is planning something new and fun for you...a puzzle, an enigma. Look for it in a few days, but in the meantime I thought I'd post some photos of a garden visit we took last weekend with some neighbors. Monique, Monique and Marie Claude are all English language pupils of our pal Jonathan. They are also garden enthusiasts and when we voiced some interest in their occasional local tours, we were invited to join them on last week's foray. We were thinking we could practice our French conversational skills at the same time that they tried out some of their English on us... but we never got a single English word out of them!

It is always wonderful to find a new corner of your world. There are so many places we have yet to discover. On this day, a very hot one, we went to the village of Mazangé not far from the river Loir. (Don't forget that north of the more famous La Loire River, you have Le Loir, pronounced just the same!)

I loved this old building from the last century in the little town, with it's labels painted right on the front. An epicerie is a little grocery store.

The garden we visited was named Le Jardin du Moulin d'Echoiseau. An old mill house, on a fast moving stream, with a little water fall is surrounded by this rather simple garden. We entered through a charming rose arbor.

Many mature trees provided welcome shade as we strolled around this pretty place. The woman who owns the house does most of the gardening herself. Quite impressive as she was une vieille dame, I would guess to be in her 70s.

The babbling brook made a cheerful gurgling and splashing.

There was also a tranquil pond in the middle of the property, full of large koi and encircled by trees of many colors and shapes. I became a little mesmerized by the reflections in the water. A little shady island was available by a wooden bridge. One could sit under the weeping willows and watch the birds playing in the undergrowth.

The color of the water was an exceptionally deep turquoise.

The garden itself was park-like, with large areas of perfectly manicured lawn, surrounded by flowering borders.

I am not really much of a gardener. It is one of those skills that I wish I had the talent and time for but really don't. I have no idea, frankly, how these beautiful lush borders could be so lovingly and patiently constructed, with all the right plants, in varying sizes, shapes and colors. I really admire gardeners who can put a proper border together with style. Is this an English innovation? The owner, who we met upon our entry called this an English garden, although I think it has a very French twist.

In any case, it was an extremely pleasant outing.

A Day at the Fair

2011-06-26T10:45:00.000+02:00

La Perrière is one of the prettiest hilltop villages in our area. When friends come to visit we generally take them for tea at the charming Maison d'Horbé, an extravagant antique shop/tea room. Once a year there is a marché d'art in La Perrière where artists display their wares and thousands of people stop by to see what's available. For a quiet countryside like ours, it is a très big deal.

This year I submitted my work for consideration. Since moving to the area, I have wanted to participate. I was pleased to be selected, as there are a limited number of spaces and many more interested artists than booths available.

When we arrived, I was happy to find that the booth assigned to me was in the private garden of the priory, just next to the church. It was a picturesque location.

I brought my entire team with me: Emily and Quinn, James and Adric and Rick. We set ourselves up and waited for the crowds.

The unfortunate thing about the weekend was that rain was predicted, and instead of being warm and inviting, it was gray and threatening. Although it was pleasant enough to sit outdoors with the family, chat with people as they came by and take tours of the village ourselves by turns, the weather was a deterrent to the usual large crowds.

La Perrière is a lovely place to spend a day. The views out over the countryside are magnificent.

The main roads, filled with artists booths are intersected by little pathways. It is enjoyable to take walks and peek into the cottage gardens that dot the village byways.

We had some very nice customers and made several sales, but just as the crowds were beginning to arrive, after the lunch hour, the sky opened up and rain poured down. Our nicely framed prints, hung on a stone wall, were in the path of a flood and several of them had water leak in under their cardboard backing. We were forced to take everything down, pack up and go home hours early.

It was a bit disappointing, but a good experience anyway. I'll probably try again next year, as it's one of the nicest art fairs I've ever seen. I'll request an indoor space the next time.

Once we arrived home a beautiful rainbow appeared out the window. Promise of happy times to come. Indeed the weather has turned summery again. In the storm a branch of our wisteria, which happened to hold a morning dove's nest, slipped down in front of one of the windows. We now have a ringside seat to watch the baby grow up. One of the eggs had tumbled out of the nest and onto our terrace, so this bird is an only-child. He's already about half the size of his mother.

Collecting Butterflies

2011-06-20T10:55:00.000+02:00

During summers when I was young, my brother and I would spend hours sitting next to our mother's lantana bushes watching and catching skippers who fluttered around by the score. We would take them in our cupped palms very loosely and allow them to tickle the insides of our hands, then we would let them go to drift away. We had been told that their wings were very fragile, so we were extremely careful. Do you remember how it is to see the world through the eyes of a child? When I think of those bright red and yellow lantana plants, I can smell their sticky scent and feel those charming skippers on my palms, wonderful and magical, and I am as a child again.

My life now does not include nearly enough butterflies and no lantana whatsoever.

My love of butterflies led me to investigate the idea of collecting. In those days you could see beautiful butterfly collections hanging on people's walls. You were led to believe that these gorgeous creatures lived for only a day (not true!) and that the collecting part was not a cruelty, but a way of preserving the expired bodies of the butterflies. When I got my first butterfly mounting kit I was simply horrified to discover that it was necessary to spread their wings by using some foul smelling chemical. I half-heatedly tried to relax the wings of one specimen I had found, but frankly I soon lost all interest in this hobby. It began to seem somewhat barbaric, especially since the kit came with something called a "killing jar." I never did have a butterfly collection; instead I enjoyed them alive. I stopped trying to catch them and simply observed them. Certainly there are plants which are absolutely foolproof in attracting them to the garden. I'm most familiar with buddlea, which until recently, I've planted in almost every garden I've ever created.

I made this book with young children several years ago:

Here are the directions for making the pop-up butterfly (click on the image for a larger view). Cut on the solid black lines, fold on the dotted line and draw/paint on the gray lines. Paste a piece of bright colored paper behind the cut out butterfly. Voila! A butterfly you can collect without shame.

Another way to collect butterflies is to patronize one of these craftswomen on Etsy:

Clockwise from top left:

Butterfly Palooza
Wall Butterflies
Tea Party Butterflies
Edible Butterflies

Zounds! It's 4 O'Clock, have you never heard of tea?

2011-06-16T12:46:00.000+02:00

Do days pass by without that quiet moment which includes a steaming cup of tea? I hope not. Did you know that tea is an antioxidant and has many healthful properties? A cup of tea a day is a stroke preventative, for instance. Of course most of the world does understand the value of tea. After water, it is the most consumed beverage on the planet.

Although the British have turned tea time into an art form, they didn't discover this Asian native product until 1669 when the first imports were received in the British Isles. At that time only the extremely wealthy could afford a cup of tea. An average wage earner would have to pay 9 months of his salary for one pound of tea.

Strictly speaking, herbal blends are not tea. Tea refers to a specific plant which provides black, green and white tea leaves. There are about 1500 varieties of tea available today.

Brewing your tea correctly is a science unto itself. As the British say, take the cup to the tea kettle, and not the kettle to the cup. Water must be boiling. Asian tea brewing is the most refined. Different size of boiling water bubbles have specific names and are used to brew different teas. Shrimp eyes, the first tiny bubbles about the size of a pin head which appear when the water begins to boil, indicate that the water temperature is between 155ª-174ª F. This is an ideal temperature for brewing delicate green teas. Crab eyes are a little bigger and begin to form at about 175ªF, the ideal temperature for brewing white teas. Fish eyes are formed between 176ª-180ªF. This is the correct temperature for brewing hearty green teas. Rope of Pearls, so named because the bubbles have now formed a steady stream, indicates 195ª-205ªF, just right for black teas. Raging Torrent or Old Man Water (212ª) is considered ruined water, too hot for most teas but acceptable for herbal blends. If your tea is bitter, the water with which you brewed it was too hot.

Serving your tea is a proper tea cup increases your pleasure. Tea cups, by the way, used to be given to girls when they became engaged, and women would have large collections of beautiful, unmatched tea cups.

Tea bags are so very convenient, but loose tea makes a much better brew.

In Britain, a cup of tea can be part of a mini meal. Low tea is served in the afternoon with scones, cakes, clotted cream and biscuits. High tea is an evening meal, served with meats and other savories.

Gathering with friends around a beautifully laid table to enjoy a cup of tea in the afternoon is one of the most pleasant activities imaginable. How civilized!

The Language of Flowers

2011-06-07T09:02:00.000+02:00

So delicate, so exquisitely temporary, flowers fill spring and summer days with joy. Who can resist their charming faces, their extravagant personalities, their who cares what tomorrow may bring attitude? They are made to attract and seduce.

How lovely to watch a bee madly romancing a flower, drunk with desire, he hums his satisfaction

He may fly away for now, but he will return soon enough and start all over with his kisses.

Did you know that before there were flowering plants on this earth there could be no warm bloodied animals either? We depend on them, in fact, for our very existence.

How incredible their variation in form and color.

They work upon all our senses.

A bouquet of flowers given to a friend or lover will never disappoint.

And if you wish to send a secret message along with your gift, you can speak the language of flowers

Here's a short list of some common favorites and their meaning:

Agapanthus - a love letter

Azalea - take care of yourself for me
Baby's Breath - pure in heart
Bluebell - constancy
Borage - courage
Calendula - joy
Calla - magnificent beauty
Camellia (Pink) - longing for you
Carnation (pink) - I'll never forget you
Chysanthemum - you're a wonderful friend
Daffodil - respect
Dahlia - good taste
Daisy -loyal love;
Gardenia - secret love
Geranium - friendship
Honeysuckle - sweetness of disposition
Iris - wisdom and valor
Jasmine - grace and elegance
Lavender - devotion
Lilac - first love
Lily - purity
Magnolia - nobility
Marigold - sacred affection
Morning Glory - affectation
Nasturtium - maternal love
Orchid - refinement
Pansy - message of love
Pink - hope
Primrose - I can't live without you
Queen Anne's Lace - fantasy
Rose (red) - I love you
Rose (white) - eternal love
Rose (pink) - please believe me
Rose (yellow) - friendship
Roses (bouquet in full bloom) - gratitude
Snapdragon - gracious lady
Sunflower - you are splendid
Sweet pea - thank you for a lovely time
Sweet William - grant me one smile
Tulip - declaration of love;
Violet - faithfulness
Wisteria - I cling to you
Zinnia - thoughts of friends

And the winner is....

2011-06-06T09:47:00.000+02:00

This morning Quinn

has randomly drawn the following winner from a hat:

MUSE

Thank you so much to everyone who participated
in our giveaway contest!