A few things that I saw in a brocante in my neighborhood (the 12th arrondissement) in Paris.

I have no need for something like these lovely cups and saucers but I sure do like them.

A view of the brocante.

I’m not sure where I could put this screen but I wouldn’t mind having one.

I think this is a little container to hold salt. I thought it was really cute.

Sort of a strange plate. What would you use it for? Maybe put some real eggs on it?

I was tempted to buy this little vase with Napoleon and Josephine painted on it but decided I didn’t need something else to dust.

I really liked this chair. When you sat on it, it sank a little making it very comfortable. I just love the way it looks. I would love it in my yard in Provence. Two problems, though-how would I get them from Paris to Provence and I would have had to buy four of them at the cost of 1800 Euros. Oh well.

Sideroads of Europe

A few ramdom shots of Provence.

Hearts for sale.

I thought this was a very creative way to display berries. Not just straight rows but a little patchwork quilting going on.

A close-up.

Lavender from my yard. I’ve never been bitten by a bee which are heavily at work around the lavender. They just sort of move away to another plant.

Provence is known for its light in the summer and I got to enjoy both the light and the color at yet another market, again in Lourmarin. It’s my favorite place to take guests.

A girl can never have too many bangles.

The season of lavender is here.

Local products for sale.

Maurice usually walks right by this place but our guest saw it and we went in for drinks. It has a lovely ambience.

I liked the reflections we saw up there on the rooftop.

She was mainly the cook that week although she was many other things: the wife of a Frenchman, maybe a stepmother, although she didn’t think of herself that way as her husband’s children were grown and on their own by the time she came on the scene. She was a grandmother but not really to T and L, her husband’s twin grandchildren. She sort of came with the territory, like an added accessory in her husband’s life that was always with him. The Cook didn’t know if they loved her but she thought they liked her. She did know that they all liked her American brownies and chocolate chip cookies so she spent most of her time in the kitchen when they visited. Of course, since they were all French and she the lone American, there were moments of stress and indecision. She was always afraid that they, with thousands of years of world renowned cuisine in their backgrounds, would be dismayed at what they found on their plates. She had learned that the son hated cinnamon and couldn’t eat her apple pie if she added it and, once, when she offered to make him cinnamon toast he made a little gagging noise. Still, she didn’t always have confidence in her cooking, even though she had French women ask her for her recipes and no one can beat an American when it comes to barbeque. The Cook’s husband said she was the Queen of barbeque.
During the week the family of the Cook’s husband visited she cooked what she felt were successful meals. They were leavinging at the end of the week and the birthday of T and L, twins, was approaching. The Cook thought of buying a ready made cake since it is so easy to find fabulous cakes and desserts anywhere in France, but decided to make one instead. Cakes were not her best thing, but she asked T and L what kind of cake they wanted. They mentioned vanilla cake, marzapan and strawberries. She had never made a cake like that. Her husband brought home the ingredients from the store. What he brought home wasn’t the cake mix of dry ingredients, but one already mixed up that you just put into a pan and baked. (She wasn’t going to make the cake itself from scratch having often ended up with a too dry cake). She noticed that it was for a loaf pan, not a cake pan, and that there wasn’t enough to make two pans. Being a resourceful American, the Cook put the contents of the package into one cake pan, baked it and then cut it in half. She rolled out the marzapan and put it in the middle, cut up the strawberries and added a little sugar to them and left them in a bowl to top on the cake later but she wasn’t happy with what she had. The mother of T and L said she thought it would be a little dry and that maybe the Cook could whip up some merengue or whipped cream which would make it more moist. She was right. The cook thought about it all afternoon and finally got down her oldest cookbook, one from the 60’s, and found a recipe for a cooked frosting using egg whites and sugar. The Cook had to beat it in a bowl over boiling water until it was thick and it came out sweet, fluffy and rich. She put some between the layers and then over the whole cake. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with the strawberries and thought maybe she could spoon some over each piece. The Cook had a ballistic moment when her husband came in and asked why she hadn’t added the strawberries to the middle of the cake. Where was he when she was putting it all together? Well, it was too late. The mother of T and L, hearing the explosion downstairs came and decorated the cake with the strawberries.
So, it was finally time to serve it. T and L, now age 11, were running around, singing Happy Birthday to themselves and each other, wildly excited to light the candles twice and each blow them out. They dug into the cake and made happy mmmm sounds. Later their mother told the Cook that she, the Cook, didn’t understand how special it was for them-that no one had ever made a birthday cake for them before. No one has to when it is so easy to buy a fantatic one at the nearest patisserie. So, in the end, the Cook wasn’t sure if she was loved-and really why should she be?- but it did feel good to be appreciated.

This is the third year in a row that I have made it to the Lavender Festival in Valensole, a village on a high plane known for its lavender.

It was packed with people as you can see. They have booths selling lavender products going up a narrow street which made it hard going sometimes. I usually try to get there early to beat the crowds and the heat but made it at one in the afternoon this time.

As you can see, they were giving away free bunches of lavender.

Can you ever have enough lavender scented, lavender colored teddie bears?

A lovely display in the village.

A view of the lavender fields near Valensole. The row of green on the left are plants that have already had their flowers cut off.

Sideroads of Europe

The next morning we left Piana, which I kept calling Piano, and headed south to Cargese. It turned out to be an interesting little village although with a strange layout. I couldn’t really find something that I would call the village center but it was a series of roads running horizontal to each other down a steep hill until it reached the small harbor at the bottom. Maurice’s son was with us and he had a friend who ran a scuba diving shop there called Explorasub. I haven’t been scuba diving in many years. The last time I went my exhusband ended up with an air embolism resulting in the stay at the compression chamber at the San Juan Naval base. Needless to say, I sort of lost my enthusiasm for the sport. Anyway, I gave it a try again. The guys running the diving were really nice but for some reason I kept turning over-I couldn’t seem to stay upright. Then I would head down to the bottom and had to push myself up off the bottom. I guess I wasn’t balanced correctly. Unfortunately, there was very little to see on the dive. It was windy that day and the good place was too murky for diving but I can say I did it and maybe will again someday.
Walking around the village early the next morning I entered both of the two cathedrals there, both facing each other across a small valley. Apparantly, they take turns having Sunday services. One was a Greek Orthodox church and was especially beautiful.

This was in the back of the church above the organ. It was beautifully lit up.

I thought this painting looked almost like a photograph.

So we headed back north to take the ferry from Ile Rousse. We really loved Corsica. I’ve heard since of people who are afraid to go there due to a bad reputation that I think is now passed. At least we saw no evidence of it. We always felt safe. I think it is a good sign when someone says they are returning, and we are. We have already decided to go next June and see the parts of the island we missed this time.