If you like walks and bird-watching...

On the first of December K.J. wanted to go on a morning walk.  I wanted to go with him but wasn't quite ready so he said, "I'll go now and walk clock-wise around the park; you come when you're ready and walk counter-clock-wise, and we'll be sure to meet."  And so that is what we did.

It worked out well for us because it gave us each some moments walking alone and also some time to spend talking.  In these pandemic days, these are our dates.

Since I was meeting K.J., I didn't bring my earbuds along to listen to music or a podcast, and my walk through the town and the misty morning park was quiet.  The silence is good for my soul.  I've been reading The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis with E for school, and you can see how much emphasis monks in that time period put on quiet and withdrawal.  I can't help but think we need times of silence in this world of constant access to information even more than in those 15th century days  

My quiet mind gives space for me to notice the gold-domed tops of the trees hanging on to their leaves amidst all the bare branches of the crowd.

I spent some time watching this black bird fly low over the water the week before, and a quick Google this morning told me it was a cormorant.  I asked K.J. to walk toward him so I could take a picture of him in flight.  Ever the good photography assistant, he obliged, and it was satisfying to watch him spread his wings and dive into the water for a morning swim.  

There's a gaggle of geese (how fun is that to say?) that live in our park, and we got a big kick out of watching them wander to the pool in a line, jumping in one after another in an orderly manner.

Here's our cormorant friend back for his swim.

And the award for farthest traveled goes to this seagull who flew in on some salty breeze.  

I was happy I brought my big camera with me because there were some spots I'd been wanting to take pictures of that my phone can't quite capture, like the steeple of the church framed between these two trees and the rooftops of our little town.  We've had a string of cold days since just before Thanksgiving, and you can often see smoke billowing up out of a chimney or two.  This was a perfect walk to welcome December.

Three Stories from La Place de la Concorde

The first story takes place at a time when the traffic driving around this square is much more plentiful, before télétravail--working from home--becomes the new normal.  My family and I wait for the little green man to light up, signaling it's probably safe to cross.  You have to keep your eyes and ears open in Paris, no matter what the crossing light says.  While we wait, our attention is caught by a white van stopped in the middle of the road.  A workman gets out in distress because his van has hit a besuited man on a bike.  The man in the suit stands up on the cobbled street, presumably angry at the offender who even at a distance we can tell is making profuse apologies.  The suited man will have none of it.  The owner of the white van holds out a conciliatory bottle of water, perhaps the only thing he has to offer as amends.   The man in the suit refuses, straddles his now slightly wobbly bicycle and pedals off.  Maybe this is the wrong reaction, but I find myself feeling really sorry for the man in the white van.  But also, be careful riding your bike in Paris!

The year is 1940.  The French government has abandoned Paris, and the Nazis are coming.  The United States is not yet involved in this latest European storm, and Paris is full of at least 30,000 Americans.  Many of them flee, too.  But the American ambassador remains.  William Bullitt is made provisional mayor of Paris by France's Prime Minister and Interior Minister, entrusted with the safety of Paris as she awaits the arrival of the German army.  When the Nazis arrive to claim and occupy the French capital, it is an American who meets them and oversees the transfer of power.  Many Nazi officials take up residence in the Hôtel de Crillon pictured above.   Just across a small street, peeking out behind the hotel sits the American Embassy, and when the German occupiers attempted to run a telephone cable across the street to be hooked up to the embassy's line, the Americans said a bold, "No."   

Two days after I snapped my latest picture of the Luxor Obelisk (I can't help but take a picture of this shiny-topped beauty every time I pass.) it marked its 137th anniversary of presiding with pride of place over the Place de la Concorde.  Someone once told me Napoléon brought this massive stone back from Egypt, but this turns out to be misinformation.  This obelisk, erected by Rameses II in front of the temple in Luxor, was in fact, a gift to Louis-Philippe, the last French king, from the viceroy of Egypt in 1833.  I'm happy to know it wasn't stolen, because covered in hieroglyphics, it's a treasure indeed.

Confinement 2.0, Day 12

During the last confinement I kept a short list of things I did each day that I shared in my Instagram stories.  It was a manageable way to record snippets of life during what will surely be a historical time, something my grandchildren will interview me about for school the way we had to interview people who lived through WWII or the Great Depression.  

I picked up this daily habit again when the second French national confinement was reinstated at the end of October, but while out for my allotted hour of fresh air this afternoon I thought I might try moving my lists to my blog where I could still keep a simple list, but I could elaborate when I wanted.  So, here we go.  For my posterity, who won't have any trouble finding out about this time in history unless the internet goes bust.  Some days that doesn't seem like it would be a bad thing, right?  Moving on...

• Read The Fabulous Showman - I serendipitously found this 1950s biography of P.T. Barnum at the Tuscaloosa Friends of the Library store while having a quick browse with K.J. after a date night where we'd just come from seeing The Greatest Showman at the theater...or cinema as it's called here.  (My brain often thinks about what things are called now in Alabama, North Yorkshire, and France, and it's fun to see which word surfaces first.)  The movie is obviously a very glossy and shiny version of events, though I'm sure it accurately captures Barnum's joie de vivre. 
• checked on the delivery time for a package - We have to be on high alert when packages are coming because we live behind a stone wall, and sometimes people can't find us, and sometimes we don't hear the bell.  Today's delivery was from an American online shop with a few items for the holidays including canned cranberry sauce (because I really like those lines in my cranberry sauce), pumpkin puree, and graham cracker crusts.  

Our cottage behind the wall is on the left, and Noreen's house is on the right.  It's amazing how quickly October's glory is replaced by November's slow decay.

• read about the Apostle Peter with J
• tried to remember which was the divisor and which was the dividend - My children's math books always insist on learning these terms, and I can never remember.  Maybe this time...
• read The Bronze Bow aloud to J
• read about Caesar Augustus in E's history textbook - E mostly reads things to herself now (unless she's tired or finding the language difficult, at which point I eagerly read aloud to her), so my role is merging into that of guide instead of teacher.  I try to stay up to date on her reading so I can start riveting dinnertime conversations.  😀
• did some lessons on Duolingo
• did a Pimsleur French lesson - I doubled down on the French today, which rarely happens.  Just when I think I've learned some things I go into the world and draw a blank when someone rattles something off at me.  My standard reply used to be:  Je suis desole.  Je suis americaine.  (I'm sorry.  I'm an American.)  This is easy to say and is pretty self-explanatory:  I don't speak French.  I'm a little more advanced now and will either say:  Je ne comprends pas tres bien le francais. or Je ne parle pas tres bien le francais.  I don't understand French very well.  I don't speak French very well.  People have always been kind to me, except for that security guard at the grocery store once...
• graded math
• Marco-Polo-ed a lot
• read about how amazing our bodies are with J
• went for a late afternoon walk

I take a picture of this cottage every autumn.

• tried a new recipe for Chicken Korma
• read a little Julius Caesar - E is reading her first Shakespeare play this week, and reading the opening pages was so thrilling.  I can't say enough how much I loved our trip to Rome last October.  It was so exciting to be in that place where so much human drama was played out, and reading Julius Caesar brought it all back.  I also read I, Claudius while we were on that trip, and it made me feel very familiar with all those Romans.

Standing at the spot in the Roman Forum where

Julius Caesar was cremated.

That's an average day in lockdown for us:  work, read, walk, repeat.  What did you do today?

Five Quotes, vol. xxiii (and a France update)

 

It's been quite the week in France with terrorism and rising coronavirus cases causing the filling up of ICU beds.  And this Friday finds us once more under the second nation-wide lockdown of the year until at least December 1, but many expect it to be extended.  President Macron wants to get the number of new daily cases down to 5,000.  This past week they've hovered between 40,000-50,000, so the December 1 date seems unlikely; however, the government also really wants to keep the economy moving, so we shall see.

Lockdown in France means not leaving your house except for doctor visits, essential groceries, and an hour of daily exercise within one kilometer of your house, and when you do leave you have to have a form filled out with one of those stated reasons selected or risk a 135 euro fine.  People will be working from home if at all possible, with the main difference from the spring being that children will still be going to school.  Houses of worship will be open for people stopping by to pray or sit quietly, but no services will be allowed.

It all feels very sudden.  President Macron addressed the nation Wednesday night.  I don't think my mind has quite had time to wrap around it all yet and what it means for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Of course we already knew these holidays would look different, but now we have the official verification that for the first time in many years we won't be hosting a crowd for Thanksgiving.  We do still have Noreen, though, so that is good.

But on to this week's reading!  They are overwhelmingly about walking in Paris, which feels appropriate as I did a lot of that yesterday during the last day of freedom, taking pictures of the sites I never get tired of seeing, watching people crowd into cafes for one last meeting with friends.

"You feel at home in Paris because the things that you care about--strolling, thinking, loving, creating--are built into the fabric of the city."

- A Writer's Paris, Eric Maisel

"The flâneur is an observer who wanders the streets of a great city on a mission to notice with childlike enjoyment the smallest events and the obscurest sights he encounters."

- A Writer's Paris, Eric Maisel

"You can stroll in New York but the Tao of New York demands double time.  You can stroll in Los Angeles but the Zen of Los Angeles requires four wheels.  You can stroll in your small town, but you will run out of sights and strolling room in three minutes flat.  Most places are not designed or equipped to support two or three hours of ambling.  It is in Paris that the delicious dreamy strolling of the flâneur can be perfected."

- A Writer's Paris, Eric Maisel

"...a chilly Octoberish smell of cured leaves rose from the ground, the indescribable smell of fall and football weather and the new term that is the same almost everywhere in America."

- Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner

"There is nothing like a doorbell to precipitate the potential into the kinetic.  When you stand outside a door and push the button, something has to happen.  Someone must respond; whatever is inside must be revealed.  Questions will be answered, uncertainties or mysteries dispelled.  A situation will be started on its way through unknown complications to an unpredictable conclusion.  The answer to your summons may be a rush of tearful welcome, a suspicious eye at the crack of the door, a shot through the hardwood, anything."

- Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner

September Days (and Sunsets)

What was September?  September was full of busy days, so it feels fitting that this post is a couple of days late.  That sounds about right.  

It began with E's birthday in the middle of full-on homeschooling with crisp days that felt just like what early September should be.  These days bled into a September heatwave and us following K.J. on a 250-mile bike ride through the middle of France to raise money for a special cause, followed by a few days of rest free-of-charge on a small island.  It was as lovely as it sounds.  It ended with a week of rain showers and preparation for J's birthday, and here we are, on another rainy day eating leftover birthday cake. 

There were many good gifts to enjoy in September, as well as a continued need for wisdom and endurance in a world complicated by a pandemic.  This combination of the delightful and the concerning brings to mind the faith-strengthening words of the hymn Day by Day by Swedish writer, Lina Sandell.

Day by day, and with each passing moment,

Strength I find to meet my trials here;

Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,

I've no cause for worry or for fear.

He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,

Gives unto each day what He deems best,

Lovingly it's part of pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with peace and rest. 

Let us walk into October with the expectation of pain and pleasure, toil and rest, and a good Father who dispenses them both in just the right amount for our good.

September 1 - Tea in the Garden

September 2 - Birthday Burgers in Paris!

September 4 - J starting a watercolor class

September 5 - Perfect Fall Scent

September 6 - True Love taking something off my plate

September 7 - Sunset over the Tracks

September 8 - Last Flowers of the Summer

September 9 - I saw more sunsets this month than I have all year in taking some after-dinner walks.

September 10 - Local Allotment Garden

September 11 - Another Sunset

September 12 - E found this letter from the 1950s in the attic.

September 13 - Church in the Park

September 14 -  Château de Chambord

September 15 -  Château de Chenonceau

September 16 - He's a warrior.

September 17 - 250-Mile Victory Cookie

September 18 - This pink sunset over the water thrilled my soul.

September 19 - A Sunset with my Man

September 20 - Sunday Afternoon Walk

September 21 - Trying to Fly a Kite

September 22 - Hobbit Day Celebration

September 23 - A Rainy-Day Leave-Taking

September 24 - Home Again

September 25 - It's been constant alternating rain and sun.

September 26 - A Walk in the Park when the Sun Returned

September 27 - Two Little Boys in Rain Jackets with Umbrellas (having the time of their lives throwing umbrellas in the air to catch the wind)

September 29 - Family Walk in Between Rain Showers