The road I take in my neighborhood to check out what is new in Spring.

I love this little house. I seldom see anyone there. Note that there is only one cyprus. This is standard in Provence. The lady who helped with our yard told us that it means you are welcome. Two means keep away, or something like that.

In Spring the vegetation/weeds between the vines either gets mown or…

the weeds are totally dug up with a tractor.

The first brave poppy. Soon there will be fields of them.

A little ruin left near the small house pictured above. I always wonder what happened to the owners. I know that in Ohio-the States-that old barns are never torn down as it is considered bad luck. Maybe that is the case here but I suspect that their were either no relatives left to take over or a dispute amongst survivors so it was just left to go to ruin.

Lilacs grow wild around here so I help myself to those fabulous fragant flowers.

I think that Aix is one of my favorite cities in France-at least of the cities I have seen so far. It is about a thirty minute drive from our house and I always love walking around the old section. Aix has three markets a week and they are fabulous. The photo above is in the square, or place, where the Hotel de Ville is located. The tower holds a wonderful ancient clock that gives a little show on the hour.

This is the other side of the tower. I love the little passage cut through it so you can walk right into the square.

This wonderful sculpture is right above the post office. I’m sure the building housed something else before. Isn’t it great how the leg of the woman hangs off into space?

Look at the cheerful color of this shop. Many of the buildings in Aix are painted a lovely golden color.

I saw this painting in a window in Aix. I love the colors. I didn’t have time to price it but I’m guessing I can’t afford it.

Tartines

Recently, on a food board, I was reading about someone discovering tartines on one of the shows about cooking in the States. The lady, the Barefoot Countess, visited Paris and showed them Poiline bread and then how to make a tartine, a type of open-faced sandwich. I wasn’t very familiar with them, except for an occasional one on top of a salad in a cafe, but once a friend showed me how to make them, I’ve made them quite often as they are simple, delicious, good for starting a meal, or as the main course.

Tartine

Four slices of a large loaf of bread. Flavored ones are fine, such as loaves with olives.
Garlic clove
tomato
dried tomato
ham-I like the Italian ham
round goat cheese
olive oil
basil leaves

Toast the bread, rub with garlic clove. You can then halve a tomato and rub it into the bread-they do this in Spain. Drizzle with a little olive oil. Some people, at this point, spread some sort of tasty spread on the bread, a tampenade, for instance. Top with the ham, which you can dice for easier eating, then several slices of dried tomato, basil leaves, cheese and sprinkle with the herbs de Provence. Put under a broiler until the cheese is brown and soft. Serve with a simple salad.

Just some photos having to do with food as I don’t have a photo of tartines.

This is a Croque Monsieur. A very good sandwich served in France-a sort of grilled cheese sandwich with a bechamel sauce on top so it must be eaten with a fork and knife.

Last week we went to a tennis master’s tournament for men in Monaco. We went last year as well and it was right after Prince Ranier had died and black draping was every where. This year Prince Albert was there in the royal seats as one of the players was from Monaco. He was beaten but the crowd was excited to see him play. It is a fantastic tennis venue, very upper class and fun to visit. I saw one man there in the crowd that I’m sure was a millionaire. He had a tan to rival that of George Hamiliton, designer sunglasses and watch and, of course, a blond, young thing on his arm. We aren’t sure if we will go the same way if we go next year. It turns out to be a six hour bus ride to watch about six hours of tennis. We were thinking that we should stay in Nice next year over night and save ourselves such a long day. The winner of the tournament this year was Nadal. He beat number one, Federer.

Here is the view from the stadium. Isn’t it great? Maurice and I stayed here once on a special deal with Air France in the off season. It was fabulous. Our room was on the bottom level with a balcony over-looking the bay that can be seen in this photo. So cool to live like the rich occasionally.

Last week we went to a tennis master’s tournament for men in Monaco. We went last year as well and it was right after Prince Ranier had died and black draping was every where. This year Prince Phillip-is that right?-was there in the royal seats as one of the players was from Monaco. He was beaten but the crowd was excited to see him play. It is a fantastic tennis venue, very upper class and fun to visit. I saw one man there in the crowd that I’m sure was a millionaire. He had a tan to rival that of George Hamiliton, designer sunglasses and watch and, of course, a blond, young thing on his arm. We aren’t sure if we will go the same way if we go next year. It turns out to be a six hour bus ride to watch about six hours of tennis. We were thinking that we should stay in Nice next year over night and save ourselves such a long day. The winner of the tournament this year was Nadal. He beat number one, Federer.

Here is the view from the stadium. Isn’t it great? Maurice and I stayed here once on a special deal with Air France in the off season. It was fabulous. Our room was on the bottom level with a balcony over-looking the bay that can be seen in this photo. So cool to live like the rich occasionally.

This is a very common sight in Provence, rows of plane trees lining the roads. It is one of the pleasures of driving around Provence.

I always keep my eyes open for signs posted around the area for brochantes and Vide Greniers. These are flea market type happenings and I always love to look-but seldom buy. I went to one today at a village called St Paul de Durance, a place we often pass when on the road. That’s one thing I like about local brochantes-they take you into villages you normally wouldn’t stop for. This one was very small but had alot of charm.

I like this little lavender wagon filled with flowers. An unexpected jolt of color as I came around a corner.

I love wysteria-both the color and the fragrance.

Another view. I wish the wysteria I planted would do something like this instead of putting out a few puny leaves.

This is just a guess but I bet the person who lives in this house is a hunter.

Miraculous Lavender

Isn’t lavender fabulous? From its distinct fragrance to the delightful color, it is world known. It is wonderful to be driving down a road in lavender country in Provence and have the car fill with that clean scent. They have lavender festivals in Provence and I went last year and plan to go again this year. There are an incredible number of products made from the herb. Here are two items I saw for sale at the festival-so cute.

Since we have a house in Provence we , of course, have to have lavender. Our first year here about fifty of the plants, along with santolina and rosemary, were planted on a hill to not only prevent erosion but just for the great look. Last year when we arrived the santolina was blooming like crazy with bright yellow flowers that the bees were enamoured of. This Spring when we arrived the rosemary was covered in purple flowers and not one yellow flower was to be seen. The lavender bloomed really well last year and I’m hoping it does so again a little later in the summer. I love the butterflies it attracts.
We have a few bare places in our yard so we decided to plant more lavender. We found it for sale at a nursery for 2.50 Euros a piece. We needed alot, like maybe 50 plants, so went instead to another place where they pulled each plant up out of soft soil and send it home with you bare roots and all. They were only .80 Euros each-quite a savings. You have to plant it immediately after cutting off all of the roots and trimming the plant. I couldn’t believe that the lavender would survive and even bloom eventually. I’m out there every day watering our 60 plants and looking for new growth. The guy at the nursery said that once they starting growing I should stop watering. Apparantly they do better without alot of watering. Our other plants were watered the first summer they were planted and once they were established we stopped watering. Quiet a hardy plant, along with the rosemary and santolina.
Last summer I tried to root some lavender, cutting off small stalks, dipping each into some plant hormone and planting. I think I may have watered too much and only ended up with one pitiful little plant but I did plant it last fall and it is still alive.
Lavender has medicinal uses besides just smelling and looking so great. It is used in baths to help with depression and well-being. I cut the flowers and put them in containers in the house. I don’t know if the frangrance keeps me from depression-not one of my problems, anyway-but that fragrance sure makes me happy and puts a smile on my face.

This is something I wrote a few years ago about Spring in Paris.

Spring in Paris

Ah, spring in Paris, and soon, Easter. There are no blue skies as I write this, the first day of spring, but gray skies threatening rain and a rather brisk wind. I’m starting to see little stuffed Easter bunnies in the shop windows which brings a smile to my lips and then I remember how, although the French may have a cute bunny in a window, they will also go home and have rabbit with mustard sauce, and, perhaps, a little thyme for their dinner along with a great Bordeaux.
But, still, they really “do up” spring in a great way in Paris. Along with frolicking bunnies I am seeing amazing chocolate in candy stores and patisseries. They are in every imaginable shape: from giant egg shapes and rabbits, to little circus animals and even some crocodile shapes. After egg shapes the most popular shape seems to be fish, often with a ribbon wrapped around the middle. They all look too pretty to eat but my husband’s grandchildren each received a huge chocolate egg that they immediately broke open to find a variety of candy inside — each tasting better than the next. I, of course, helped them sample the treats inside. Easter has become rather like Halloween here, as in the States, where children run around after getting their holiday candy in an ecstasy of a sugar high.
The herald of spring here is the daffodil. Several weeks ago I noticed men on street corners selling beautiful bouquets of yellow daffodils. I wanted to buy one, as they look so cheerful after a long winter, but my husband said, “You know, you can go into a forest near Paris and pick those. Why don’t we go get our own?” It sounded like a fun idea to me and that afternoon we headed outside Paris and in thirty minutes we were there. As we pulled into the little parking lot I saw a lot of people each holding huge bouquets and I thought there was no way there could be any left for us. We headed into the forest still dripping water from a recent rain and our shoes were soon caked with mud as we jumped over streams and made our way around natural ponds. In about ten minutes I saw our first daffodil looking very small and delicate. There were no King Alfred’s growing here. Before long I could see huge groups of little yellow heads sticking up everywhere looking like yellow stars against the dark trees. I am such a city mouse that I am always delighted, and a little surprised, to see something I usually buy in a store growing in the wild. They were very easy to pick, breaking off easily at the base of the stem and we soon had a large bouquet. They were many, many flowers left and I could see groups of them everywhere. When we got home I put them in a vase of water and it gave me such a cheerful feeling every time I saw them sitting on my table. After this excursion I got to thinking of Wordsworth’s poem about daffodils and had to go look it up. His words describe many of the feelings I felt when I saw my own crowd of daffodils in the forest.

“Daffodils” (1804)

I wander’d lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

Hmm, for some reason I have no photos of daffodils. I’ll have to keep a lookout.

Nothing to do with what I am writing about, but isn’t this a great sign?

A Tale of Two Suitcases
It’s a sad tale. It started in December when we decided we needed new suitcases for our trip around the world. I had noticed people easily pushing suitcases with four wheels around airports and I wanted one. Putting wheels on suitcases must be the best invention ever since, well, the wheel itself. I had found that even with two wheels, the suitcase can be really hard to pull behind you if it is heavy, hurting the old shoulders, so I had to have one with four wheels.
We headed to our friendly neighborhood Printemps and entered the luggage department. I tried out many suitcases but liked one by Samsonite the best mainly because it was so easy to lift. It was made of some new miracle substance that made it extremely light. I just hate it when your suitcase is heavy before you even put anything in it. This model was wonderful and, because it was by Samsonite, I thought it would last me forever. I bought one in black, shiny like leather, and Maurice bought a duller gray model.
Well, it was nice to push them effortlessly through airports and hotel lobbies. I was very happy with my suitcase everywhere across the world until we reached the States. In Texas, Maurice’s suitcase arrived on the luggage turnstile with a huge hole popped into the side and worrying lines radiating out from it. When we reach NYC, my suitcase arrived with one of the wheels still barely attached. I guess the new miracle exterior wasn’t up to whatever happens to luggage in that mysterious area where luggage is taken. To get it taken to AA repair shop and see if it was possible to repair both suitcases would take a month so we took our chances that everything could be taken care of in France. That made me nervous. Often getting anything done in France isn’t possible and you are told, “Non”, or you have to fill out many forms and wait months. I wasn’t optimistic.
It turned out that the place AA sent us in Paris was a piece of cake. The man there took one look at our suitcases and said they couldn’t be fixed and that they would, right there in the shop, give us new suitcases. I was tempted to get the same model because the other suitcase there must have weighed ten pounds empty. Sigh. In fact, we even got an extra smaller suitcase to equal the value of our two damaged suitcases. I had to drag my new suitcase, by Delphy this time, up and down metro steps and then up the stairs, four flights, to our apartment. My new suitcase is new but I am so disappointed.

Nothing to do with suitcases, again, but I like the bright colors in the sun.

I love this table and wish I had one like it in my yard. Maybe someday I will. I saw it in a yard that I passed on our walk the other day and thought how nice it would be to have a meal there under the trees.
Today is Good Friday and we have Maurice’s grandchildren here. They leave tomorrow to return home for Easter with their parents so I made a traditional French Easter meal today. It was really great to smell the lamb cooking in the oven, studded with garlic and covered with oil and rosemary. It tasted as good as it smelled. The French serve it with white beans. I seldom have lamb but think I will now after this meal.

Roast Leg of Lamb with Beans (Gigot d’Agneau)

6-7 pound leg of lamb
3 or 4 garlic cloves
olive oil
fresh or dried resmary leaves
1 pound dried navy or fava beans, soaked overnight in cold water
1 bay leaf
2 Tbsp red wine
2/3 beef broth
2 Tbsp butter
salt and black pepper

Preheat the oven to 425. Wipe the leg of lamb with damp paper towels. Cut 2 or 3 of the garlic cloves into 10-12 slivers, then with the tip of a knife, cut 10-12 slits into the lamb and insert the garlic into the slits. Rub with oil, season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with rosemary.
Set the lamb on a rack in a shallow roasting pan and put in oven. After 15 minutes, reduce the heat to 350 and roast for 1 1/2 hourrs to 1 3/4 hours-about 18 minutes per pound.
Meanwhile, rinse the beans and put in a saucepan with enough fresh water to cover generously. Add the remaining garlic clove-I diced mine-and the bay leaf, then bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 45 minutes-1 hour or until tender.
Transfer the roast to a board and stand, loosely covered, for 10 minutes. Skim off the fat from the cooking juices, then add the wine and broth to the roasting pan. Boil over medium heat, stirring and scraping the base of the pan, until slightly reduced. Strain into a warmed gravy boat.
Drain the beans, discard the bay leaf, then toss the beans with the butter and season with salt and pepper.

Over on the other side of the mountains from where we live is a little village called Cereste. In this area are many traces left by the Romans who once occupied many parts of France. It is also known for its fossils and, in fact, a dinosaur was found nearby. I love stuff like this. It was a lovely walk, although really, really windy-damn mistral-and I enjoyed it but was so disappointed not to find even one fossil. I know they are there somewhere but just don’t know where to look. I saw a man selling fossils at a flea market last summer and he told me he found them near Cereste and even told me it was near the cemetary there. I went, walked around the whole area and, again, not one fossil. Here is what we did see:

Notice that all of the lambs are brown. I assume they will become like their mothers with brown faces.

A really old deserted little church. Look at the cyprus blowing in the infernal wind.

We walked to this old priory, long deserted. Next to it was an area carved out of the solid rock cliff used mainly for burial and probably some very basic rooms.

I love photos of old stone steps, worn with time, with plants growing in the crevices.

I spot the first Iris.

We are now in Provence after having been gone all winter. I’ve been told by those who live here that it was a particularly cold winter with some days having temperatures -15 degrees-and that’s centigrade! We’ve had many days of sunshine and temperatures in the 70’s but haven’t seen many signs of Spring until about two weeks ago. The bushes and fruit trees always blossom first and the iris are now following suit. I had meant to plant some iris this autumn so I would have some in my yard when Spring arrived but never got around to it.

The view from our house on the first morning we arrived. I’m still intrigued with fog, having seen very little of it growing up.

A plane tree still holding on to autumn’s pods next to the ruined castle in la Tour d’Aigues. Love the blue sky.

I’ve seen prints of the castle in la Tour d’Aigues from a couple of hundred years ago and it was fantastic-very Italian looking. A small sign of what it was like then can be seen in the stars pressed into the corner in a section of the chateau.

My favorite section of the chateau. For some reason the curved walls appeal to me.

A fruit tree is bloom in our neighborhood.

February 11th
A breath-taking drive this morning through more tropical forests in more mountains. Part of the drive was through a gorge with water falls and rushing streams. There are many one way bridges. Yesterday there were two that were even shared with a train track which was very narrow and rough. All of the highways here are mostly two lane, even the main ones. We passed many herds of sheep, cattle and even herds of deer surrounded by very high fences. It was a long drive and we finally reached Lake Tekapo. I remember now, when seeing the spectacular light powdery blue color of the lake with the little church over looking it thatI had seen it on a trip over ten years ago never dreaming I would one day return with my French husband.
February 12-14th
I have to say that Lake Tekapo is not a place to spend the night. Our hotel was over-priced and the TV only got one, sometimes, two, channels. It was very windy outside and after seeing the lake and chapel, there was nothing else to do. We had a good view of the lake but once the sun set, not much to see or do. The next morning we made it to Timaru, a very nice, clean city on the coast. There is a huge industrial harbor here, not a cute picutresque one. Maurice went into the water as usual for a short time at the small beach. the whole area behind the beach has things for children to play on. We went to a movie, then to another beach and watched some surfers, had a sandwich in the room and then to bed.
Next was Christchurch which we loved and our B&B is especially nice with huge rooms very well decorated. The bathroom is across the hall and-once again-we find ourselves with a bathroom for those in a wheelchair with no shower stall and, in this case, no shower curtain. That and the crummy TV are the only downsides to this place. The ambience of Christchurch is wonderful, very English with nice archetecture and not too many tall business buildings. We took the tourist tram around the city, walked in the Botanic garden and just enjoyed the area.
Finally, the flight back to Sydney, then on to Hawaii. We left on February 14th and by crossing the international date line, after an over-night flight, arrived on February 14th. There was a mix up in our hotel so we spent the night at another and came back again the next morning. I love Honolulu and seeing the fabulous hotel, the Hawaiin Princess. The water is smooth, almost without waves. There are many more shops here than the twenty or so years ago that I was here but I still love being here, tourists and all. There is a wonderful ambience and the weather is always so great. They did have major rain this year on the islands and we did get caught in a couple of rain storms but, still, I always love it here.

The little chapel by Lake Tekapo

Here is the chapel from a distance. That is the actual color of the water caused by rocks being ground down to powder by glaciers.

An interesting little Spanish style street in Christchurch. I don’t know who thought of painting the buildings that color, but I sure did like them.

It is hard to find anything more special than tall palm trees along the ocean.

Looks like Big Sur in California, but it’s New Zealand.
February 8th
Did the long drive to Wellington. It started raining on the way, sometimes very hard. We stayed at the Novotel on the Terrace, a built-up area over the harbor. It’s in a great location. We returned our rental car (it can’t be taken to the South Island, we have to get another one at the Ferry when we land) then walked around the city a little and took the cable car up to the top of a mountain overlooking the city where there was a botanical garden. We couldn’t see much in the rain but it looked very nice, very hilly and rather like San Francisco. After a drink at a bar on the harbor, we had dinner at our hotel as we couldn’t find any other place to eat. The whole area seems strangely without life. I have no idea where people go for night life.
February 9th
We left on a ferry today for Picton on the South Island of NZ. We arrived early but found the ferry would be an hour late. It turned out to be two hours late. It was a very pleasant journey when we finally got going passing some fabulous scenery. Arriving at the ferrry station, we picked up our rental car and drove through a beautiful valley into some hills and finally into Westport, and stayed at the River View Lodge with a great view of a wide river. We went into the very boring town of Westport for a good dinner where our waitress happened to be from New Jersey. One of those outdoor, athletic types of which NZ seems to be full. She fell in love with the area and stayed.
February 10th
It was a long drive to Franz Joseph, a village at the base of a glacier, but a beautiful one. On the way we passed some Big Sur-like ocean views and an interesting area called Pancake Rocks where the sedement had layered into, well, rocks looking like piles of pancakes. There was also a strange little stop with live animals, such as a stag with huge antlers, which also sold a variety of things containing possum meat including possum pie. They possums aresn’t the same type that I’ve seen in Texas but a brush tail variety. There were cranky signs everywhere saying such things as: “Of course it rains alot here-were in a rain forest. We don’t know when it will stop. You’re on vacation-we are working-read the paper for the weather, don’t ask us.” It was a very western, funky place.
When we arrived at Franz Joseph, we made arrangements for a helicopter ride up to the glacier which turned out to be great. We landed on top on a sunny day and the views of the glacier stretched out down an enormous mountain with the river from its melting running into the nearby sea. The surrounding forest is tropical which seems strange but there is a similar one in Chili.
Some wine and a pizza while we watched a rugby match between two NZ teams then to bed early as we are getting up early-again-for another very long drive to the other side of the mountains. We have to circle them as there isn’t a way over. It turns out, as is often the case, that we underestimated the time it would take for all of the driving and we feel like we have spent alot of time in the car. We have been seeing fantastic scenery but won’t have time to see the famous Milford Sound. We needed a few more days.

The Pancake Rocks area.

The glacier metling and running down to the ocean taken from the helicopter.

On top of the glacier. We didn’t even need our coats.

Franz Joseph Glacier seen on the ground from below.

A view of the ocean along the highway 1 in New Zealand

February 5th
Early flight from Australia to New Zealand with a three hour time change. We were lucky enough to get a rental car although we had been told by phone earlier that one wasn’t available. We left Australia a day early since we decided to leave from Brisbane istead of Sydney. It is a good thing we did leave from Brisbaneas there is no way we could have seen as much as we did had we had to make the drive back to Sydney. Our hotel, near the airport, wasn’t anything special but easy to find. We drove into central Auckland which is situated on a bay but it is not nearly as spectacular as Sydney. It is also very hilly with many of those hills called volcano cones. There are still active volcanoes around New Zealand.
February 6th
We left Auckland fairly late and entered Highway 3, then 26 which skirted some spectacular scenery on a pennisula. I love it when a road follows the ocean and we were very close to it on a two land highway. The vegetation is tropical looking with unusual looking palm trees but few ecualyptus. Lots of green and gold rolling hills with many denuded of trees and the ocean was a beautiful color-turquoise/blue with a smoky look to it from glacial work I am sure. There was quite a bit of traffic as it turns out that this is the celebration of the day a treaty was signed with the Maoris, which some say now was not fair. The Maories were fairly war-like with infighting between tribes and the killing and eating of ten of Captain Cook’s men at one point. They seemed to have held their own when the English arrived. We saw the small town of Thames and several other old mining towns and ended at Waili Beach. We had trouble finding a place without a reservation but finally got a B&B from a really nice man right on the beach. The weather is much cooler here which is such a delight after the heat of Australia. There is always a breeze blowing here as well.
February 7th
After a nice breakfast on the terrace of the B&B over-looking the ocean and a friendly talk with the owners, we set off for Rotorua. On the way we stoppped at a dormant volcano and climbed to the top-a very hot climb-and Maurice swam in the ocean, something he did anytime we were on a beach. It’s a great beach and off the beaten path. When we arrived at Rotorua there was a slight odor of sulpher in the air. Our hotel, a Quality Inn Geyserland, is looking a little worn but our room looked right out on a great area with geysers, steam and bubbling mud. About 5:30 PM we drove to nearby Waiki Pool and sat in a hot pool, which was naturally warmed by a boiling hot water source. We could see the steam rising above the trees before we arrived. The water felt great with the air being in the 70’s.

What we saw from the terrace of the B&B. Maurice swam in this water as well.

The geyser and bubbling mud that we could see from our hotel in Rotorua.

The steam rising from a hot spring near the pool where we swam.