Week 52: Comings and Goings

Looking up towards the village of Montmirail

My blog has been entitled 52 Weeks in a French Village. I began this series of posts exactly a year ago. This is my 52nd week, and time for a change of direction.

As I was considering what my blog might become, a little voice started whispering in my ear. It accompanied me on walks, was there at meal times and often bothered me when I was trying to sleep. The voice became louder as days went past. It turned out to be the whispers of a lovely young woman with red hair and green eyes named Musetta. She was introducing herself to me and asking me to turn over my blog to her.

She seems out of another time, as her wardrobe appears vaguely eighteenth or nineteenth century. When I asked her about this she rolled her eyes and explained that she is not bound to any particular time. She wanders freely from past to present and even into the future. What, I asked, did she intend to publish on my blog? She patiently explained to me that she has a broad range of interests which she intends to share with my readership. "As long," she hastened to add "as the topics covered have something to do with improving the quality and beauty of daily life." She seems to believe that fun, beauty,  harmony and craft are of utmost importance. Her favorite expression, she told me is "Don't worry, be happy." From all this, I gather, she intends to offer light-hearted posts on any number of subjects. "And, don't forget to tell them I like giving things away." Starting next week there will be a giveaway as a way of introducing herself. "Of course the entire design of the blog must change." she told me. I knew this. When you come back next week, which I surely hope you will, you will not recognize the blog at all.

Musetta intends to post every week, and sometimes she will require my narration help. She may not adhere to a strict schedule the way I have. I think she's a little more spontaneous than I. We'll see what she has in mind.

Here's her portrait. She's not entirely pleased with it, but she recognizes she has to be patient with me. As time goes by and I get to know her, hopefully I can represent her better. So far I've found her to be very interesting company. She's very cheerful, energetic and just a little bit bossy.

***

Before I leave the village of Montmirail, I want to remind you about the wonderful course that my very talented friend Gail Rieke will be giving at the Maison Conti in October called Art Mapping, Invisible to Visible.

Gail is not only an incredible artist, but also one of the best and most patient teachers I've ever had the privilege to work with. So few teachers can really see beyond their own techniques and view of the world to be of real help to others.  Gail is one of those rare individuals who is able to understand each student as an individual and knows how to guide them in a direction just right for their own personal needs. The work created in her workshops is highly personal and individual.


Rieke Studios is famous as an inspiring and beautiful artistic space. Her suitcase wall was recently featured on the cover of Where Woman Create. Each suitcase contains a travel adventure/installation.

She creates a working environment full of magic and delight.

Her work sets the heart to dreaming of far off places, time travel and mysterious unseen worlds.

Gail is an expert book maker, creating journals of great beauty as well as practical utility.

She has invented new ways to put bits and pieces together in surprising ways to tell stories and reveal histories.

Form and function work together in her creations to enable expression.

She makes cases, enclosures, wrappers, boxes that are inventive and rich to hold the content of travel experiences.

Her goal in her own work is to capture an event or experience in a luscious object which can hold the original moment. In the process the journal and wrapping, as one explores them, become a new and sensual journey in and of themselves.

It has always been difficult for me to pin down in words the magic that Gail is able to weave in her own work. She is very generous in sharing her techniques and creative processes with her students.

A course with Gail is one of those warm occasions that wakes up the best of one's self.

If you're free in October, I can hardly recommend this course more highly! There are a limited number of spaces available.

Week 41: Here Comes the Sun

On bright days a shaft of pure golden sun lights the entry and never fails to enchant me

We had glorious sunny days all week long, even if the temperature wasn't exactly balmy (high 40ºs). In the afternoon the sun goes around to the back of the house and I find myself following it. Sitting in a little patch of light is one way to rejuvenate the spirits.

The sun at mid afternoon lights the stairwell making the colors glow

 

The foyer of the Rose Room is like a solarium in the early afternoon.

Rick caught me sunbathing in the Green Room window late in the afternoon

Another sign of the changing season is strawberries available at the grocery store. These are from Spain and are almost the size of a tangerine. They remind me of the ones we get in California. Frankly, even if they are quite red and attractive, they are rather tasteless. The best strawberries are small, misshapen and less colored. Natural is always best and someone has definitely been messing around with this variety. Don't the producers know, you don't taste with your eyes?

 

strawberries and tangerines from Spain and Morocco.

Farid left for Barcelona mid-week and doesn't arrive back until tomorrow. He reports that it was raining there. How strange. We were in Barcelona a year ago to the day. I'm glad Farid could have the opportunity to see this beautiful city. He even attended a basketball game. Certainly the night life there is bound to be a bit more stimulating than in Montmirail.

I worked like a mad woman all week in the studio. At least eight hours a day with only a short lunch break. I am trying to finish some work to submit to several shows coming up in the spring. I am not quite ready to share them yet.

On Saturday I came down with a strong case of cabin fever and simply had to get out into the sunshine. We decided to take a walk in the woods since the paths had had all week to dry. It's been a few months since I ventured down there and I wanted to see what signs of spring were showing themselves. I know I've taken you on this walk before, but never when the trees are still bare. It's a totally different experience this time of year.

On the way we passed by the presbytery, where the village priest used to live before he got too old to be left on his own. The garden is looking neglected. The house is at the corner by the bar and used to be the community salt storehouse in the middle ages. In those days salt was a real luxury item and the main means of preserving foods.

The village presbytery

The forest is below the lowest level of the town. One descends a path I call the rabbit hole, because the branches of the trees bend down on the one side while the hedges on the other reach up, creating a tunnel of foliage. It feels like entering into a fairy tale,

Entering the forest

Leaves litter the ground and the sun gains entry to the path through the tree branches. Rick wasn't sure he wanted to walk in the woods because he likes to keep to the sunny side this time of year. But we found the sun was not hidden at all.

The path we follow was constructed at least 600 years ago.

the path down to the forest floor

I love how the banks curve up on both sides. The forest is almost womb-like.

along the path

There are very few evergreens in the forest, so this time of year everything is so much more open.

one of our few pine trees

One can see the farm houses below the pathway.

looking toward Melleray, the town at the foot of the hill

We found a place on the path where we could look back up at the village and castle. In summer this view is completely obscured.

The castle of Montmirail

A  couple of wild flower varieties have begun to appear on the forest floor. My favorites are the little violets. We found them in small clumps all along the path.

 violets

These yellow ones are quite common in our part of France. I haven't been able to identify them.

perky and hardy yellow flowers which bloom into fall

Along the way we saw some happy cows. They had just been fed their hay by Farmer John.

contented cows

We have many beautiful horses in our area as well. It almost looks like Virginia to me.

happy horse

While walking I experienced one of those perfect moments. The kind of moment where everything make sense and all life seems good. All my senses contributed to that feeling, so I can't entirely share it with you, I can only try to describe it, however inadequately. There was the sun on my cheeks, the wind ruffling my hair, the smell of a wood fire, as one of the farmers was burning his slash, four different bird songs ringing through the trees making a kind of symphony as we gazed out upon the peaceful landscape. I melted into the moment, the place, and forgot myself entirely. Always a blessed relief!

The trees cast golden shadows on the pathway. Does it make you want to paint a picture?

shadows along the way

 

here comes the sun

Week 27: A Week of Extremes

 

the studio window

The week began with sun and bright skies. It was a welcome change after days of gray. The angle of light accentuated colors and cast intense, interesting shadows. It was a great pleasure to work in the studio in the morning, and an even greater pleasure to walk around the village. We rested for several minutes with our backs against the toasty castle wall and let the sun bathe our faces in delicious warmth.

The church had its doors painted last summer, so they are fresh and vivid, especially against the crystal blue of the sky. The little stooped woman who arranges flowers each morning drives her Deux Chevaux from the bottom of the village. It looks good parked in front.

 

The church of Montmirail, just outside our gates

In our terrace the sun played upon the walls, and the last valiant rose opened in the light.

The Virginia creeper has lost all its bright red leaves by now

 

A white tree rose in the terrace garden doesn't seem to know it's winter

The bones of the lime trees show up starkly against the winter sky.  Gilles will arrive in January and prune them back to their knobby stubs, but first he will festoon them with Christmas lights.

One of the four lime trees on the Place de l'Eglise

After a very pleasant reminder of September and October days, the sky clouded over, hinting that the weather was about to change.

 

Clouds roll in

And change it has! We woke up mid-week to find our view obscured and to discover that the first snow had fallen overnight. The castle grounds out the back window look magical.

The castle grounds

Our morning view

In watching the evening news, I see the long S curve that represents the jet stream, so I'm aware that most of Europe and even corners of North American are experiencing this dramatic plunge in temperatures. In Scotland it is minus 14° and one of the coldest Novembers on record. Apparently we can expect the cold to continue for a few weeks. It's a bit early to be this chilly! In our big house, especially when we have so few clients, we can't keep everything warm and toasty, so we have our comfortable zones, (the studio, the bedroom, the office) which we hustle between. In some parts of England people are receiving an emergency subsidy to cover extra fuel costs. Alas, that is not the case over here, so we keep the fires burning and the furnace low.

We always have a book we are reading aloud to each other, and currently it is The Eternal Frontier, by Tim Flannery, subtitled An Ecological History of North America and its Peoples. It starts out with a fascinating and graphic description of the meteorite that plowed into the earth 65 million years ago, creating the Gulf of Mexico and causing the extinction of not only the dinosaurs but of many other life forms, especially in the Northern Hemisphere, in the protracted winter that ensued. Since then, the continents have floated here and there and the temperatures have varied crazily. Did you know that once upon a time, just a few million years ago, North America was a lot like the Serengeti of Africa, with elephants, rhinos, hippos and other such creatures roaming the savannah? The point is, of course, that the climate does change on earth and natural events do occur which can have profound effects on life. Man, however, never before had the power to influence these events. Thomas Friedman likes to call it "Global Weirding," rather than "Global Warming," since the climate change we're causing does more than just warm up the planet, it sends unexpected storms and extremes of every kind. Each year I feel I note the effects more and more profoundly.

Next week we travel to London to visit James and celebrate a belated Thanksgiving. I will have  photos to share and adventures to relate if the Eurostar doesn't break down in the cold, as it did last year. However, I won't be back before the beginning of next week, so my post will be a day or two late. See you then!

Beautiful but frigid

Week 17: In and Around a French Country Village

Days have been clear and bright inviting lazy walks about town. One day recently I began to notice beautiful textures created from old doors, rusty gates, stone walls. Once I focused on them, I saw them everywhere. I spent an afternoon snapping photos of some interesting patterns our little village offers to the observant eye. Time has had its way with paint, brick and metal; vigorous plant roots are not confounded by stone structures. Between the works of men and the effects of nature, lovely images are created.

We noticed this curiosity on the road towards our garden. If it is a make-shift scarecrow, the question would arise, what is being protected from the birds? This is no fruit-bearing tree. If the clothing is just getting an airing, someone had to climb rather high to hang it there. Is there some magic in it?

Historically there were a double set of walls encircling our village, one around the castle, another protecting the entire village, now, mostly removed to allow for roadways. One large piece of this ancient structure still exists. The original town ramparts stand behind the castle and enclose the village garden plots. The back of our garden is bordered by this wall. I rarely go on the other side, even though there is a very nice little trail next to it.

The pathway there affords very lovely views over the valley beyond, which this time of year are particularly sweet.

Below the path is the Ramparts garden which is maintained by the community. It is a medieval herb garden, growing medicinal plants.

Of course this time of year also offers an abundance of fruits and pods. I don't know what kind of tree grows these wonderful bean shaped seed pods, but they look so nice hanging from the branches.

Monique's fence is festooned in grapes, sweetening in the fall sunshine. We got a jar of her homemade
grape jelly.

And apple orchards everywhere encircle the village, ready to give of their effulgence. Northern France is a natural home to apples of every description, used primarily in the making of cider and calvados.

We are full each weekend this month, but week days are much quieter now. I've had many enjoyable hours in the studio or sitting in our sunny apartment window, sketching my favorite view.

I haven't seen my son James since last Christmas, but he arrives this afternoon! And not just for a visit, but to stay for at least the next three years. He will be living in London and working towards his Ph.D. in play writing. I expect to have many opportunities to visit Britain in the months and years ahead. More on his visit to France when we meet again next week.