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When you think of France, what do you think of?

May 17, 2013 By 43 Comments

Paris? Provence? Bordeaux?

Today, the lovely Anita from Castles, Crowns and Cottages invited me to share what my France is.

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My France almost always is the High Savoy.

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One of my ancient family seats is the village and the Castle Allaman in Switzerland, on the north side of Lake Geneva, (Lac Leman).

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As a matter of fact, my maiden name is Von Alemann, a gentle spelling deviation thru the centuries since my family began with a strong Saxon tribe in 1218, but the same name none the less.

I’m drawn back to Geneva, where I’ve lived for great lengths of time in the past and each time I do, I spend every second day in France. France is just a short drive across a simple open border and then suddenly you are in the glorious Haute-Savoie.

I’ve been dragging my children around from village to Alps and back to village since they were very little. Hiking, swimming, eating… living.
I think Chloe’s fondest memories might be of a great big St Bernard named Lou-Lou and raclette, (it’s a long story).

The French side of Lake Geneva has two special villages so close to my heart. Yvoire and Thonon-les-Bains.

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Yvoire, the magical, medieval village with the spectacular le Labyrinthe Jardin des Cinq Sens, and Thonon, in which there is a pool right beside Lake Geneva, is where I can be, normal to me, and suntan topless with the other moms while our children play in the crystal waters. Chloe still has a friend she made at that pool when she was nine who she corresponds with today.

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But then it’s always into the mountains we go. La Clusaz, Chamonix, Mt Blanc. Where the most delicious mountain air makes for the most delicious hikes and small chalet lunches.

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My most favorite has always been the complex salads of that region and a baked potato, lardons, reblochon dish called Tartiflette. I make it where ever I am and instantly bring my France back to me. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll make it tomorrow and post the recipe.

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So please go dig up your treasured memories of France and tell me about them. :)

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Some days are like that.

February 9, 2013 By 10 Comments

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Ever have one of those days when you feel like you have to look at your cutest potential?

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Isn’t it also great to have those times when you just don’t care?

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Yeah, we hear you! :)

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Fog

February 3, 2013 By 19 Comments

It’s been one of those lovely Vancouver winter days where the whole morning harbour is shrouded in fog.

I know it’s advection fog (a left-over term from a geography course) and I love to watch it move in and settle on the water. There’s very little to be seen so I close my eyes and listen. Fog horns are sounding, the gulls are shrieking, metal rigs are clanking against boat masts. Somewhere in the harbour a sea plane’s engine starts to rumble and my breath swirls the white haze around me.

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Then, as the sun begins to rise and warm I can see the shore birds backlit by the weak sun.

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A few more minutes and more of the harbour comes into view.

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But the sun is determined and soon the magic begins to evaporate.

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Mornings like today I think on my favorite little poem, a Carl Sandburg poem; the first one my children learned to recite.

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbour and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

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A little sad but a lot of happy in one morning

January 17, 2013 By 18 Comments

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Last night, as I was walking across the back garden, I heard a small rustling noise at the foot of the basement stairs. There was a weak little finch in the leaves. I thought it was a good thing I found him because just then there was an orange streak behind me; the neighbour’s aggressive cat.

I cradled the finch in my hands and, remembering what the vet advised about the last bird we rescued, I put him into a cage in the garage to recover with a bit of soft blanket and a small dish of water.

I’m so sad to say that sometime during the night his little body stopped. I think he probably flew into the loft window and fell the three floors to the basement stair well. That’s a hard fall for such a little creature. This morning I wrapped him up in the bit of blanket and buried him under my favorite yellow rose.

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This is how it goes sometimes.

Inside I poured myself another cup of tea, pulled back the curtains to let the sun in and watched Morgan and Milo play. C joined me and soon we were smiling again.

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Here we come a-wassailing

December 22, 2012 By 15 Comments

Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green;
Here we come a-wand’ring
So fair to be seen.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

Off we marched Gill, Billy, Becky, Luke, Jamie, Steph and me down the road to the heart of the village and we gathered at Hankey’s snug little cottage by their open coal fire in the kitchen. Julie had spicy mulled wine and mincemeat tarts just out of the oven. Perfect to warm us up for the night’s adventure. We sang a rousing version of Deck the Halls and we were ready.

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Our wassail cup is made
Of the rosemary tree,
And so is your beer
Of the best barley.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

We were about twenty of us, our merry band of carolers, and off we went from door to door spreading cheer.
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We are not daily beggars
That beg from door to door;
But we are neighbours’ children,
Whom you have seen before.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

Carrying lanterns, torches and song sheets, we trudged thru the lanes and puddles, opened gates and marched down driveways making our way around the village.
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Call up the butler of this house,
Put on his golden ring.
Let him bring us up a glass of beer,
And better we shall sing.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

Everyone welcomed us and some sang along. A little tart here, a chocolate there, we were well set. Little Steph presented our charity pot to each homeowner and the change started to clink and jingle.
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We have got a little purse
Of stretching leather skin;
We want a little of your money
To line it well within.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

We sang requests, we sang what we wanted, and we left each home singing We Wish You a Merry Christmas.
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Bring us out a table
And spread it with a cloth;
Bring us out a mouldy cheese,
And some of your Christmas loaf.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

We ended up at Elizabeth and Michael’s Ferryman’s Farm for a rest and more yummies.

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God bless the master of this house
Likewise the mistress too,
And all the little children
That round the table go.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too;
And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year
And God send you a Happy New Year.

And much figgy pudding and good cheer. :) Thought about, written and photographed for Northmoor but also for the WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge, Surprise

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Everyday life…What? Fit into a form? Me? Tough, tough WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge

September 15, 2012 By 10 Comments

I’ve fought and fought with this challenge. What I wanted to do is express my everyday life with images and then I realised that, being a true Bohemian, well everyday life just has to fall into place as it can.

So here is a small idea of my everyday:

My everyday is exotic. Yes…terrifically exotic. Unusual, extraordinary, one of a kind exotic.

It’s beautiful and fragile. Very fragile. Cut down with the tiniest cold draft fragile. Handle with extreme care, be careful what you say fragile.

(Just ask R, he’ll tell you)

It’s strong and resilient. Weather any storm, stay in the flow, circulatory system, Dunkirk spirit strong.

There’s art. There’s always art. There’s a sliding scale of traditional to way out there art. It’s ever changing, ever evolving, ever opportunistic will-make-art-of-anything art.

And there’s magic and whimsy…there’s always and most importantly magic and whimsy.

There.
That’s everyday life round me.

Not easy being around me…or being me for that matter. Just hang on for the ride. :)

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WordPress photo challenge…fleeting moment…and the London Balloon

June 29, 2012 By 20 Comments

So many fleeting moments…so little camera-at-the-ready moments! Searching thru my files for this week’s WordPress photo challenge I found this pic.

I remember standing in London, somewhere around Queen’s Gate, looking at this pink balloon. It must have been swept from a child’s hands and pushed by the wind along the road. I remember first catching a glimpse of it between the moving cars. I was fascinated that the balloon bounced out from between the cars and rolled/flew along the rough pavement.

It’s amazing how a little pink balloon can capture the imagination and give hope to spirit in a moment. For me, I suppose, the feeling is grounded in my meditation. One of the first meditations I’ve taught my children is to wrap all their problems with a pink balloon and release it to the universe while silently asking the universe to help.

I stood there staring at it for three more car passes, and then…it did what most balloons caught in traffic do.

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If it’s late June, it must be Jazz Fest.

June 24, 2012 By Leave a Comment

The last few days of June mean Jazz Fest in Vancouver. Caught Daniel Hersog, (Vancouver trumpeter/composer) Trio, with Winston Minkler bass and Andrew Rasmussen keyboards, for a lovely lunch hour concert at Grandville Island.
Took a lot of photos but the 1000 word one is this one! Makeshift stage?…It must be Jazz Fest. Coffee at the ready?…It must be Vancouver…shoes off while playing bass?…Absolutely!

“The contrabass moves the air in the room. You feel it! If you take your shoes off playing the bass, man, you feel it in the floor. That vibration! So the sound of the contrabass is very important. That’s why electric bass doesn’t sound good in a swing group.”
– Percy Heath

Yeah, I get that!

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Understanding spring

April 21, 2012 By 4 Comments

It’s amazing how in this world, the sun sets and rises, the moon is in and out of phases, ink spreads slowly across the face of a blank page.


Then one morning I wake up and spring is here.


A flick of the switch and the world is made of the fragrance of pink camellias on a warmer breeze.


And the other things…the other things just happen as they always have, and probably will for a long time.


How sudden


How smart


How simple

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How to study

April 11, 2012 By 2 Comments

Here’s C in full writing term papers mode.

Papers due Wed and Thurs.

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