Day 52 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Checklists

Salut, les amis! (Hi Friends!)  Remember all those plans we made for doing projects when this all began? The windows are all wide open and so are the doors. Is it really that hot? Nope. I need the air! It's time to check one of my projects off of the checklist. It's a short meditation today  - bet that makes you smile!

View of Canigou from the Vineyard above the village

The first post I saw on FB this morning read, "Bienvenue a été!" (Welcome to summer!) While there is still a month to go until summer is officially here, I knew what our friend meant. I can

This is how close we all are!
A photo taken from my roof. 

smell the warm tarmac out in the street as I sit at the laptop in the kitchen and write to you. It is a welcome feeling after the weeks of grey or wet weather. I'm especially happy about the lack of rain at the moment as I have a few DIY tasks to do that need dry air and an open house. I just hope it will last for a few more days. Fingers crossed! As I type this, I can hear three children making a lot of racket with a couple of old bicycles and a skateboard. I don't mind. It's another sign that life goes on even under quarantine. Our across the street neighbor is telling her husband something in a rather high and loud voice. She's a bit deaf and so speaks louder than he needs her to, but he's good-humored about it. I can't tell what it is as I think it's in Catalan. I've only managed to learn to say "Bon dia!" (Hello) and Adéu (Goodbye) which sounds like Ah-day-oh to me.  It's enough to make them both smile when I try to use the words. From that moment on, though, I am lost. It never seems to bother anyone as long as we all smile.

If you cannot bear to have a part of other people's lives enter your life from day to day, and to share your own with them, then French village life is not for you. In my own village the road is about three yards wide. When I open my shutters I often end up saying "Bonjour," to Marlene across the street as she stands on her balcony in the mornings to have her first cigarette. Thankfully the breeze blows down from the church that is behind my house and sweeps the smoke away from my side of the street. 

When I lunch on my terrace,
I have privacy and a view.

The family on the corner are usually getting into the car to hurry off to work but they look up and wave then call out, "Ca va?" (How's it going?) I nod vigorously and yell back, "Ca va!" (It's going {well}). These are the little things I love about my village. There is an intimacy we share after all these years of windows and doors that face one another. It's just like that. I am content with the rituals. Sometimes Dani is in front of her house sweeping the gutter and often has already done mine as well! When I say I will do it, she protests that it is her geraniums that filled both of our gutters with flowers. That's true. But you can bet there are summer mornings when I get up earlier so I could be the one to sweep it!  The children next door on the other side are sweet. Don't tell the older boy I said that - he's thirteen this year. I have a feeling it would be un-cool to be called sweet by "la dame americaine!" His little sister is precious and the last time I saw her, she ran up to hug me. I reflect on the fact that the next time I see her, we will have to keep our distance. I hope to goodness that one day life can be like that again, but I do have doubts. Here in the village where we are spending the lock-down, everyone we know is being extremely conscientious about following good social distancing.

And speaking of life in this village. We got up extra early because we have arranged a morning appointment. When breakfast was finished I said I'd do the dishes since I was staying at home. Y, my French partner, loaded the attestation app in his phone, took his id, the papers for the car

Haven't lifted the protective tape yet,
but it already feels better!

and went off to find his vehicle. For the first time in weeks it was going somewhere! The Service Station that does his "renovation" opened a few days ago. Since it was time for his car to have it's annual service over a month ago, he took the first appointment that was offered. I think he had a happy swagger to his step at this opportunity to go out on a sunny day and not be restricted to only an hour, because the work would take longer than that. 

I got my painting clothes on and set out all the gear. It was time to paint that hand railing in the art-Deco curved stairwell. I know I sorta gave the impression that I'd do it eventually. But those who know me are well aware that once I've decided to tackle a project, I can't really let it rest until its done. The new pot of paint was calling my name. Besides, painting to decorate the house is my super-power.

The cat came over, took one look, yawned as if to say, "Not again!" then went back to bed. This was fine by me. I didn't need any distractions while I concentrated on not overloading the brush, keeping an eye on what I was painting, and not tumbling down the stairs as I worked. Of course, as anyone who has done decorating knows, the most important part of painting is preparation. I have an idea that probably applies to almost

Spring inspires us to do more.

anything we do in life! 

Yesterday, Y sanded down the old paint that was chipped and torn all over the place. Even more importantly, he removed the buildup of time that makes the surface become permanently grimy no matter how much cleaning one does. The taping of the bars where they enter the plaster took a lot of time, but two hours later, I was very happy with the results of the first coat. Tomorrow I can give it another coat and see what we think.  There is a second staircase to deal with in the next few days, but the straight bar should make that an easier job. It still needs sanding, so for the day, I was finished with my tasks.

I was about to text my partner with a photo and say that it was safe for him to come home again, when I heard him call out, 'allo! from out in the street. Yeah, it's a village house, I could hear him, no problem. He admired the new paint and I really felt great. I was as happy as he was that his car is now up-to-date and at a cost that was less than he'd budgeted. So we prepared our lunch, ate and talked about how good it was to have checked a few things off the "to-do" list. We wondered if the energy we felt was the effect of approaching freedom from quarantine or the lovely spring weather. Perhaps, we decided, is was a bit of both. We did the dishes and had our coffee.  I told him that I wanted to sit down to my blog and he said he had some reading he wanted to do. It's still early in the afternoon. Later, we will hear the news about what will happen on Monday when we are released from this confinement. But for now, the sunshine is calling me. I've had my chance to share with you and that is always lovely.  Now I'm going out to sit on the terrace and read with my guy. 

So, if you have a list, and I expect you do, I wish you the energy and possibility to check one or more

The house next door is well maintained, the one beyond that might need a bit of DIY!!

of those "to-do" tasks off before the end of the confinement. If you are already free, then perhaps you can check off a few before the end of the month. However, it's not compulsory! Don't let it get you down. It's easy to make the lists but checking things off can be a pain. Sometimes, if I start to get depressed by how many things are on the list, I take the list and throw it out.  It's allowed. 
A demain, mes amis! (Until tomorrow, my friends!). Link to day 53

Day 51 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Cherry Festival Time

Salut à tous! (Hi all!) The weather is warm as I sit down to write. Y is working on some DIY. That means I have plenty of time to share a happy day memory with you that takes place in a beautiful little town that is known as the "Cherry Capital of France!"

The cherry market at Ceret - last year. This year is has been cancelled.

Day 51 -We ate breakfast and it's now just after lunch. My French partner, Y, has gone to sand the railings of the art-déco staircase. Later on - like tomorrow or the day after - I will paint them with a gleaming black finish. I remember buying the paint at the start of this lock-down. I told him it would give us

The French Gate

something to do while we were confined. It's nice that we never really ran out of day-to-day things to do that made us happy. He's not really keen on the idea of painting as it turns out (which is why he is going to do the prep and I will do the painting) but suddenly we both realized that if we didn't do it now, we'd probably never do it. Or at least not anytime soon - it will get too hot in the months to come. I had suggested I'd help him do this last year when we first met. The house was empty except for the renovation work that was going on. It would have been easy. "Ne t’inquiètes pas avec ça!" He said, telling me not to worry myself about that. He would do it before he moved in. Yeah. Well, anyway. He did find something much nicer for us to do in May last year. A visit to Céret for the annual Cherry festival!

Céret is a town that demands to be immortalized in paintings and photographs - and has been by famous artists as well as countless fans. Picasso is probably the most famous of those who did - and so you will find a cafe named Le Pablo and admire an impressive fountain in his honor. If you have time you can see some of his ceramics that celebrate the bullfighting of times past in the Museum of Modern Art.

The wide boulevards and many shops are made grand by the variety of beautiful buildings and tall plane trees that flank the streets.  History and architecture combine in the nicest ways here.  Every Saturday, the street market in Céret bustles with 

Leafy Boulevard

commerce come rain or shine. This is no flea market, it's all about everyday shopping.  Most of the stalls are selling food and others have kitchen utensils, rolls of colorful fabric, or everyday clothing. However, since the South of France is a magnet for tourists you will also find arts and crafts between the stalls of useful or edible items.

The Cherry market is an exceptional two-day market in May. Then, the stalls hold every variety of cherry and cherry-related goods for sale. As the Cherry Capital of France. Céret sends the first box to the French President every year. You can buy cherries fresh or baked in dozens of desserts being sold from stalls in the streets. I love the cherry beer that is made for the celebration. There is music, folk dancing, and all kinds of entertainment. I have been to the festival at least five times and have yet to see the contest that gives prizes to the one who can spit cherry pits the farthest. But, I still hope!

Last year, Y suggested that we go and take one of my closest friends, who was visiting from England at the time. We got up a bit early and drove inland along the Albères mountains with Canigou ahead of us.On either side of the road, stood bright green vineyards and leafy orchards.  The trees were dotted with tiny nectarines, apricots and peaches; a bright promise of next month’s bounty.  But in May, the cherry trees have already bloomed and given us the first fruits of spring.

Even before we had entered the village of Céret, we saw two fruit stands, one on either side of

Picasso inspired fountain

the road. They were loaded with baskets and lugs of bright red cherries. But we were going for the spectacle of the market and didn't stop. We did have to park quite a ways from the center, I can tell you! One of the prettiest entries to the town is through the parking lot. As you arrive, there is a bit of the old wall and an arch with two towers that look like a castle gate. Actually, that's because it is what is left of the medieval gate! This is the north gate, also called the French Gate.  There is one on the south side of town called The Spanish Gate. I'll leave it to you to guess why. Yeah, pretty easy, I know!

 Céret once had a town wall all the way around it since it was besieged many times when this area was part of the Kingdom of Majorca.  The lively red and yellow banners adorning the

So many parades - here
go the Castellers.

streets and stalls are the colors of ancient Roussillon as well as the modern Catalan flag. Once inside the city walls, we wandered along the stalls, had coffees beneath leafy Plane trees and watched the Catalan "Castellers" parade through the streets, stopping now and then to show off how high they could make human towers. It was a lot of fun. I don't know how long it will be before there are festivals in France once more. There won't be any before September, that we do know.

Some of you have sent me notes and asked me, how do I feel about all of this? I am sad beyond belief. How could I not be? I expect we will be grieving about this tragedy for years and decades to come. It isn't the lost time we will mourn. That is not the worst part of this, though I know that for the seniors in high school, colleges, universities and graduates of all kinds, it must feel like a hole in their psyche. The festivals are nothing in the big scheme of things.  The very real possibility of economic hardship

colorful stalls

that will last for a decade is far more serious. But the real fear I have is that it is the end of the warm closeness we all share when we attend gatherings of all kinds. And all I can hope is that in time - a year or two from now, we have found a way that we can be close once again. And I won't give in to the fear. I hold on to my belief that we will overcome this. I am trying to be patient.

I can hear Y vacuuming up the dust he has made while sanding the railings. I am going to stop now and go wash them down. Who knows? I may even get around to painting them before the end of the week. 

My favorite shot of the day - the lady who sells
"Cherries from Here" is having a cherry snack.

It was sure nice to have a chance to share good memories with you. It also helps to know that no matter what comes, we are all still connected by our thoughts and hopes. I know that makes us all stronger. And we will see this through - together!

A demain, les amis! (Until tomorrow, friends!)

Link to Day 52

Day 50 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: The New Normal

Bonjour a tous! (Hello Everyone!) It's late as I write this because we have been out and about today. It's still a few days until the end of lock-down but we'd completely used up our stocks that can't be bought in the nearby store. It was time to go to the big Supermarket. I wore my new mask. We washed our hands when we got there and wiped down the cart handles with sanitizer dispensed at the entry.  We were careful to keep at a safe distance from others, but at least it is now accepted that couples and families can be together. It was a practice run for the "new normal." 

Our agricultural villages need workers in the orchards and fields.

Day 50 - We woke with the sun and it was warm - a  perfectly normal morning in May. At breakfast we looked over the list of food and supplies we planned to pick up at the giant supermarket. Y, my French partner, said, "Et nous pouvons même prendre nos vélos." (And we

A popular art form here that
looks really pretty in the sun.

can even take our bikes!) My obvious lack of unbridled enthusiasm went unnoticed as he continued to read the news on his phone. "Pas aussi bon qu' hier," (Not as good as yesterday), he remarked and handed me his phone with the lists of covid-19 statistics. I looked over the deaths and new cases from the day before. Rats. Although not high, there were a lot more than yesterday. It gives me a chill, I can tell you. Macron has told us that we won't really know until May 7 how the de-confinement will roll out. There will be numbers that are acceptable and those that aren't. Like you, we are praying to never do this again!

The morning was beautiful, so I sat on the terrace and played guitar for a while. I thought we would shop before lunch but I was wrong. This I discovered when Y objected to my proposal that we leave soon. "Oh non, je préfère de manger avant." (You guessed it  - eat before...) I said okay but we must not be late getting back. For just a moment I thought about saying I would take my car.

Macron warns us it will be done in little steps

But then I reflected on the fact that not only was it good for our budget, it was good for my health. And it's only a mile to the store. Don't tell me I should walk! How would I get the groceries home? Okay, Y could bring them home, but really, the bike is less bad than walking. And besides it would take me the whole day to get there and back. I'm not much of a walking person. My feet would hurt for days. So, we fixed lunch, watched the news, ate, had the after meal coffee and then prepared the bikes.  Somehow it was already after four in the afternoon before we were ready to go! I will admit that lunch wasn't ready until after one o'clock. But it was yummy.

Y has a little wagon he pulls behind his bike. Last year it took our

The wagon is ready to go!

surfing gear to the beach and back. This year, it is likely that won't be happening. During the winter, he has used it for the groceries. No, I'm still not walking to the big supermarket! I'd never get around to writing this to you if I did that. I will admit that it was lovely to cycle to the store. There were flowers blooming along side of the bike path but the mask I wore meant I couldn't smell them. That's okay. I decided that even though it was not obligatory, I would try out the mask now, before Monday gets here. You know what? It wasn't bad. 

We shopped. Lots of folks were wearing masks and there were many more plastic barriers along the edge of the cashier's area to keep people in the different checkout lanes from breathing on each other. Seems like a good idea to me. This is the face of life and will be the new normal way of shopping. Y payed by card so there would be no contact then we took our groceries to the little wagon parked out front. While Y packed everything neatly, I watched two lizards hunting in the rocks by the parking lot. One watched a small fly zipping around above the rocks and then, ZAP! I blinked at the speed with which its tongue had shot out and caught the prey. Wow. I'd never seen it happen. The second lizard watched and probably wished it was his supper. The play of life and death goes on even as we are trying to do our best to slow down the numbers of humans who fall ill. 

My new normal fashion accessory!

Most of the time, like the fly, we don't see the danger coming for us. This epidemic has made us aware of an invisible enemy that hangs in the air now. I wore my mask home. If it will help others, that's good. And hopefully by setting the example for others, they will help keep me safe too. I'm still working on getting Y to wear his mask. He says he will when it is the rule. And that is partly why we have to have rules. I know he believes he's invincible. How I wish that was true. I wish we all were.

And so now we must stop and eat dinner. While I've been writing, he has prepared the soup and our Mediterranean veggies to serve on rice. It's been another beautiful day. I hope you've had a good day too. And if it's been hard, hang in there. It's going to be a long time before life becomes anything like

The fly never even sees the lizards waiting for it.

normal. For the moment, be brave. I'm feeling just the same as we try to adjust to the "new normal." If we can all keep ourselves and others safe, one day we'll look back and know why we had to do this. 
A demain mes amis! (Until tomorrow, my friends!)

Link to Day 51

Day 49 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Dreams and Memories

Salut les amis! (Hi friends!) The approaching end of our confinement is now just a week away. The village is so excited and fearful at the same time. If only life could return to normal! But we know that's not how it's going to be. The anticipation is tinged with an underline of worry... It's time to hold on to your happiest dreams and memories. They have the ability to heal us when we are afraid. And courage - there will be new days and the chance to find good times again. 

The Cathedral bells in Perpignan

Day 49 - The sound of birds and the bright sunlight filtered in through the partly open shutters. We slept better for having fresh, cool night air. It was early and I turned to see that Y, my French partner, was awake. He grinned and said, "J'ai rêvé que j'ai gainé une fortune!" (I

Place Hyacinthe Riguard in Perpignan

dreamed I won a fortune!) I said, "What a great dream. I was dreaming we were at the beach.  How did you win a fortune?" "At the Casino with my brother," he said. "Cool," I said and smiled because we never go to casinos. Dreams are nice. 

We ate and took an early walk in town. A few neighbors talked about the fear that when things open up on Monday, the deaths will mount again. It's a probability. But we can't do anything else. People need to earn money to pay their bills. I hope that this time we have stayed at home has given the health care sector time to prepare. It's all scary.  But there is also an anticipation about how good it will be to leave the time and distance restrictions behind. Right now we are limited to a kilometer around the house. Next week it will be a hundred kilometers! I can feel it coming - Road Trip! Well, maybe. We'll see.

After lunch, I noticed in my photo timeline a memory from last May. I showed Y the photos and he said, "I remember that day. The weather in May was not like today last year!" It's been beautiful and really warm all day today -

Timbered building in Perpignan

in the sunshine anyway. Last year it could have been bucketing down spiders and snakes and I'd have just smiled out from under my umbrella. Y and I had begun dating two months earlier and it was the dawn of new love. I felt seventeen every time we saw each other or sent texts on the days we were working apart. Thinking about it made me fillet through my photo file and I came across a day to share. A day  in Perpignan "From the times before the Virus."

It was a sunny day early in May. My new boyfriend - oh my gosh wow - I have a new boyfriend and I'm 58 - wow! Okay. Let's finish the sentence. My new boyfriend texted "Good morning," in English because he was working on learning more words in my language. The rest was in French. He asked would I like to have coffee in Perpignan? He was living there and it was going to be a beautiful day. I said I could be there in twenty minutes. As I drove toward the city, the blue sky was as pretty as the brightest azure crayon in the box.

We met at his apartment and walked into town center. I thought it was funny that he carried an umbrella but Y said, "Le mois de mai c'est imprévisible." (May is unpredictable.) I looked at

Le Quai du Vauban

that gorgeous sky without a cloud in sight and figured it was just a habit he retained from the years of living and working in Paris. I was taking photos all the way, as usual. It was nice to see that it did not seem to bother my new friend at all. That was good - photography being one of my passions, as all my friends could attest! I never get tired of trying to capture the colors of Perpignan. It is a tiny city with Catalan charm and sometimes a bit of chaos too. It's no way perfect but I like it a lot.

The cafes along the Quai du Vauban were busy and we walked from one end to the other before deciding we would try to find a place for coffee in the Place de la République. I noticed a

La Place de la République

few clouds floating across the sky. It was still a warm and sunny day when we found a seat and ordered our coffees. I took photos and listened to my new guy telling me about his life as a gendarme in Paris. I told him about my childhood and how I went to a French maternal school as a youngster in Maison Lafitte. Thanks to my military family, we spent 3 years in the suburbs of Paris and my mom sent me to French school.  I'm sure that's why French culture is so comfortable for me. We both agreed that it was this early exposure to the language which makes it possible for us to communicate. I doubt that if I'd started later, I would be as fluent as I am. (Of course, that doesn't mean I have it down, folks! I make Y

Nice view of the plaza!

laugh often by mis-pronouncing words to the point of saying something completely different from what I mean...)

I said yes to a second espresso and soon needed to find the "facilities."  The waiter indicated that they were upstairs. I found the toilets easily enough and afterwards was drawn into an empty room by the view I could see just beyond the windows. I took a photo of the plaza and noticed that the sky was now extremely cloudy.  I returned and told Y that I thought he had done right to bring along an umbrella. We decided to take another walk and once the tab was paid, we headed across the city to wander through the shops along the canal.  The weather held and we ended up having lunch in the Halles Vauban. We joked and took photos of one another. I think he carries that photo in his phone. I know I do.

Eventually we were in Place Catalogne.  There is a store there that specializes in science and nature that we both enjoyed visiting. When we stepped back outside, a cool breeze surprised me. All at once, the heavens opened and it was raining. Thank goodness for that umbrella! It made a lovely excuse

And then it RAINED!

to take Y's arm and snuggle close as we walked back to his apartment. I drove home and on the way the clouds began to clear. The sun heading toward the horizon was a true sky-painting. I stopped on the way and took a photo. (You knew I would!) When I texted my new boyfriend that I had arrived safely, I sent it to him. I heated up my frozen vegetarian dinner for one. He wrote how much he had enjoyed our time. He sent me a photo of spaghetti and ham that he was eating in his apartment while I enjoyed my Amy's mac n cheese at my village house. Later, we texted goodnight to one another and he added, "Merci pour une autre belle journée." (Thank you for another beautiful day.) I asked, "Even thought it rained?" and he replied, "Especially because it rained!"

Somehow, even with a plague devastating the world, it continues to be a place worth being in because I share it with him. We have been tested by these 49 days of confinement, but the result has been a bond that is strong. You know what?  A year later, we still finish the day by saying, "It's been another beautiful day." These days we often add, "Even under quarantine!" 

So. dear friends, there it is a little "before the virus" story. In a way, we are all sheltering under an umbrella of sorts. Let's stay close and that way we may not get wet. Next week, France will step

The clouds will clear - real clouds and fear clouds too.

outside and instead of a parapluie (an umbrella) we will wear masks. Be brave, wherever you are. Fear must not win. You are special to us and so, we stand as one - have courage! Together, you and we will do our best to stay safe and stay connected. 
A demain, les amis! (Until tomorrow, friends!)

Link to Day 50

Day 48 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Signs of Life

Bonjour a tous! (Hello everyone!)  The light at the end of our lock-down tunnel is getting brighter by the day. If you are still in the dark part of the tunnel, I hope our story goes well, so that you can also anticipate an end to the isolation. Being alone for too long is hard on morale. We are with you in thought and are sending you wishes for a return to a slightly more normal life. We all know it's not going to be like it was before but maybe we can see our friends again - standing apart at a safe distance, bien sur!

The View from Céret toward Spain.
This is part of why our department
 is less stricken, we have less density of
 population in most areas than the north.

Day 48 - It's practically hot today as I write this from the protective shade of the kitchen! Today the winter clothes were packed away with my ski gear. I'm just hoping it doesn't get too hot during the next 8 days because I only have jeans, long sleeved shirts, and two t-shirts here. My summer clothes are at my house. I'm sure it will be okay - after all - there are just 8 days left of our confinement!

Y - my charming French partner, and I went out early to hunt, er, I mean shop for carrots so I

Carrot, Cumin, and Raisin salad

could prepare "La Salade aux Carottes Râpées aux cumin." It's one of our favorites during the warm months. It's a grated carrot salad with cumin. All it takes is two carrots, a handful of raisins (any kind, but I do love the golden variety), a teaspoon of cumin seeds and a few pinches of cumin powder, 1 teaspoon of lemon juice, 2 teaspoons of olive oil, a bit of ground pepper and a pinch of salt. If it sits for an hour before you serve it, it's even nicer but we often don't wait. It's light, has a lemony sweet feel with a bit of spicy warmth from the cumin. If I leave the making of the salad to Y, I know there will be a liberal sprinkling of curry powder as well.

We filled in our attestation papers and walked to the store to find carrots. There were a lot of people in the street today and it was a bit difficult to keep the two meter distance from everyone. I ended up climbing the church steps to avoid a particularly large group. They made me a little bit worried. Nobody was wearing a mask. I hope it was a family because they were walking very close together. We saw no gendarmes or police anywhere but then again, it was nearly noon. My parents lived in Paris and loved France as much as I do. When I was young, my dad often remarked that, "If you are

Just like every Sunday morning

a criminal in France, the best time to go to work would be at noon on a Sunday." I've lived here now for over 16 years and I know he's right. Sunday is the day when not much happens and most people take a break. When I first arrived, the only thing open besides the church doors was the newsagent who sold bread as well because the bakery was closed. Times have changed but not much. Normally most stores are closed because the fines they would have to pay for working on a Sunday outweigh the profits. 

But with the confinement still in force, we knew the grocery store and the bakeries would be open even on a Sunday and so it was. We bought our carrots and some canned goods as well just so we wouldn't have to rush out again tomorrow. In the store, everyone was doing the best they could to keep a social distance. At least that was a good sign.

Then we took a walk around the village. The feeling that the end of this horrid experience was everywhere. People were sitting on front steps, or leaning against walls and enjoying the sunshine. I walked in the shade as it was too hot. This feels more like May in the south of France.  smiled and called hello. Those we are friends with said, "Just eight days to go!" Some asked if we thought that wind-surfing would be allowed as it was a solitary sport and technically one would be on the water and not the beach. That, we couldn't answer. Who

The flower baskets are blooming again

knows? I do know it will be tough to do without having a camp on the sand for all our gear. I'm a beginner. I can't last long on the water and need frequent rests. I think we'll just have to wait and see what happens with the numbers. At the moment - it's good. Yesterday the news that the deaths were 166 continues to put us on track for the end of the lock-down. It seems ironic to hear about death and think, "Oh, that's good news." But then I remember the days when we would read that over a thousand had died. It's terrible to think that there is any number that is acceptable, isn't it?

We walked home and suddenly the streets were all empty once more and we were alone. It was the lunch hour. I noticed that the flowering baskets that haven't been tended since the winter have begun to bloom again. So that's another good thing about all that rain we had in April. It looks quite cheerful. After scrubbing our hands with vigor, we set to work on making the salad.  The quiche went into the oven to reheat and we set the table. The street was quiet. A typical Sunday.

The postman no longer rings twice -
he calls to say he's delivered the package

It's deceptive. There is little that feels typical about the way life is unfolding. The new normal is subdued and sad. I remember yesterday when I looked out and saw the postman on his motorbike. He used to whistle and toot the horn when there was a package. Yesterday he was wrapped in protective clothing with a clear visor to complete the image. I know it's to protect us more than him. And that is the mantra of our new normal. Instead of ringing the bell to alert our neighbors that they had a package, he lifted his visor and called them on the phone to say it was by the door. Y and I talked about the fact that we were going to need masks in public for a long time. We lamented the reason the beaches would not be opening while we ate lunch. We discussed the rumors that the time at our beach was going to have schedules with set rendezvous so people would not over-pack the shore. We'd all seen the photos of Florida and Southern California. People aren't always good at doing what is necessary, sadly. 

Finally, I sat down here while Y does the dishes so I can write to you and share the news of the day. It's not stunning but there are no tragedies to report, happily. And we see signs all around us that the de-confinement has already begun in little ways.

Last night after dinner, Y and I walked down to the river to drop our recycles in the bid. On the way back he took my hand. I looked at him severely and protested, "Mon amour, nous sommes trop proches!" (My love, we are too close.) He pulled me closer and said, "Roh-been, nous sommes dans nos droits! Et regarde!" (We are within our rights, and look!) The idea of families being

The reason for our 100 km travel limit...
Is it really because the Prime Minister's
mother-in-law lives 103 km away from him?

allowed to be close has been hotly debated. It only makes sense that if we live together we can walk together, but I have been trying to show respect for the rules. Y pointed to a group ahead of us composed of four gendarmes and a family. A child and a dog were playing at the edge of the water. The adults were talking and it was clearly a pleasant discussion. Y waved to them and they waved back. The gendarmes smiled. 

Y was right. They knew he and I are a family and that we were within our rights to hold hands. It felt like life had returned. We walked on by and on up the rue de la république. I thought about how lucky we are to live in an area that has been touched so lightly in the face of this terror. We're not in the clear yet. The second wave may undo all that's been done. But, we have hope and a date with destiny that is fast approaching. It will be a day to celebrate when we can leave the attestations at home.

So, we will all hold our breath a little bit during the next week and keep our eyes on the numbers. Our hope is that you are safe and things will get better in time. There is an end in sight - and if all

We're still staying home for the moment
or carrying the famous attestation
whenever we go for a walk or to shop.
But thankfully, it's a temporary situation.

goes well, then we will emerge from this confinement and self-isolation TOGETHER!
A demain, nos amis!

Link to Day 49

Day 47 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Homestretch

Salut les amis! (Hi Friends!) We're all in a funny place about now. It's been such a long time since the middle of March when the world suddenly flipped on its head. Stir-crazy hardly describes it anymore, does it? However, things will soon change. At least, this is what we believe. This may be the homestretch...

Sunrise over my village - and a symbol of France

Day 47 - My partner wakes first and rolls up the shutters. The morning sun pours into the room and it feels good against my face. I doubt that the sunshine will last but then the thought goes through my mind that it won't be cold again until November. I quickly amend that by adding a mental note - "if the seasons are normal." Aye, there's the rub. There is no normal anymore. And that includes more than the weather. Our habits,

The sun rises over the Alberes

food supplies, and social rules have all been upended. The weather has been hotting up in summer and freezing in winter like never in my memory. It really doesn't matter if it's a natural phenomenon or not. It is causing catastrophes. Then this virus hits the world like a ton of bricks and we're all reeling. I close my eyes again and let the sun warm my soul the way that a hot cup of coffee cheers cold hands. For just a moment I can feel that life is just good and beautiful. I've found a man I hope to spend the rest of my life with and he tells me he feels the same way. We have a lot in common: a love of travel, history, socializing, literature, and outdoor sports. Granted there are cultural and language differences but they are small amusements in our shared happiness. I soak in the sunshine and imagine the world in which we met last year.  We go anywhere we want. We have lists of places we want to see and plans to make our dreams come true. I daydream of a world where nothing has changed.

But it has changed and so I get up and have breakfast. The news is better. France had only 218 deaths yesterday and fewer new cases have been added to the stark statistics. That is the best it has been since I began to keep track at the end of March. It bodes well. We eat

A single Pinon tree on the hilltop
by the vineyards of my village.

breakfast and afterwards, we exchange silly comments with each other on Facebook. Y posts that it's World Naked Gardening Day, with appropriately not-dressed people doing yard work. I comment, "Et toi, mon amour, tu fais le jardinage sur la terrasse comme ça?" (And you, my love, are you going to the gardening on the terrace like that?) and he comments back "Si ça peut faire plaisir a quelqu'un, pas de problème." (If that gives pleasure to someone, no problem.) We smile over our phones at each other. Our friends online add their comments and tell Y to get to work on trimming "la pelouse!" (the lawn) Very funny. The terrace is our only outdoor space for now and if I hadn't brought five of my houseplants over the day before quarantine began, we'd have nothing to care for. We have spent half a year making the house a home and left the terrace on our 'to-do' list for next year. 

The sun hid behind a light veil of clouds but we went and sat out on the terrace anyway. Instead of preparing to shop in the open-air market and meet friends in a cafe as we would have done just two months ago, Y and I have a homemade espresso and make a shopping list. However - this time there is hope as we talk about it. Yes,we can only shop in a small circumference of the house. But there are only nine days left on which we must carry a note stating what time we left the house and return within an hour. Nine days sounds reasonable after forty-seven days!

We clear the table and each do our accounts. The fact that we have not bought

The Chateau in my village

gasoline since March is astonishing! For the month of April, we spent no money in the cafes and that totals a bit more than a hundred Euros. Well, I'm sure we'll find a way to spend it soon but it won't be in the cafes. We know they won't open in May, perhaps not even in June. I tell Y that I'm looking forward to going to my village to work on my house. Back at the end of February, he and I began to redecorate my home. It has five rooms. We had finished one. The decorating (or "re-looking" as Y calls it) is something I had longed to do for a year but it is very hard to do alone. For example, I'm useless at building shelves and couldn't move my heavy furniture to rearrange it. But most of what I need to do is remove things that no longer give joy or have purpose. And with his help, it was happening until the lock-down made us decide which house would be better for a long-time stay. No contest and we've been very happy here. But the more I think about my village, the more I long to go home and take care of my place.

Then, as if my thoughts have winged across the vineyards, river, and small lanes sending a call to those I am thinking about, the phone rings. And it is Danielle, my next-door neighbor in my village. "Ma Puce!" she exclaims when I say "'Allo?" Ma puce actually means 'my flea' in

A barn conversion in my village

literal words, but when used like this it means I am dear to her. Oh, what a wonderful coincidence! We chat for an hour. I'm so happy to hear that the Mairie (the mayor) is providing a delivery service for the seniors (among whom, she and her husband are counted.) She only has to call and they add what she needs to a shopping list then deliver the goods the next day. No wonder I love my village and the people in it. I tell her we will be there soon, when the quarantine ends and send our love to her and her husband. I ask about the across the street neighbor and Dani goes to the window and calls out, "Marelene! C'est Robin! Elle te donne le bonjour!" I can just about hear what she's saying and

The tower is a residence!

Dani repeats it to me. How wonderful to know that they can see the flowers blooming on my terrace with only care from the frequent rain we have suffered last month. There, I tell myself, that makes it worth it.  We chat for an hour and finally ring off with a lot of "Bisous!" those air-kisses we all exchange. I expect that for a very long time to come, these bisous are going to be spoken or mimed. But never mind, the main thing is there have been no deaths in my village and that those closest to me are sending their love.

With that happiness in my heart, I sit down at the computer to write.  But first, because of that unexpected call, I take a look at my photos of my village. I will share a few with you. In the months to come, perhaps I'll have a chance to share new ones. Shelves will go up in my library room and car-loads of un-needed items can be donated to the charity outlet. May has arrived, warm and filled with promise. In just over a week, we will be able to go see the flowers on my terrace for ourselves. I can hardly wait! We’re in the homestretch...

I will finish on a serious note. The president promised that we would do this "ensemble" (together), but there will be some areas where day care centers, middle schools, parks, and small museums will remain closed. The number of infected people is too great in 

My terrace in June last year. Soon, I hope to see it again.

some départements. Those areas are "red" while the less affected are labeled “green.” But the shops will open for all and people can go outdoors without the restrictions we have now. The day of liberation is near. The greatest fear is that the numbers will rise. Y and I will do our best to help keep people safe around us. Our masks have arrived and we will wear them.  It's the very least that any of us can do. 

A demain, les amis! (Until tomorrow, friends!)  Link to Day 48

Day 46 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: May Day - Time for Good Luck

 Bonjour nos amis! (Hello, our friends!)

It’s May!  Hooray! But while we are still in confinement, this year we will celebrate the approach of summer quietly. No dancing around a bonfire this year. But we are going to follow one French fashion and usher in May with flowers and sunshine. Best of all, you are here to join us, in a virtual way. 

We choose to celebrate May with flowers

Day 46 - May Day. We slept with the window open and woke up early. Maybe because the sunshine arrived early and lit the hallway with daylight earlier than it has for a long time.

A May tradition

Maybe it was the birds. I got up at six and shut the window. It wasn't cold, it was the blasted, er ahem, I mean sweet and blessed birds. Love 'em to pieces and really like them even better if they let me sleep. I know, it's a quandary. I'm not an easy woman to please...

The breakfast table holds more than our typical cereal, yogurt, juice, and coffee today. There is a vase of flowers. This year they came from a supermarket instead of the traditional curbside vendors. The rose and ferns are optional. The sprigs of Muguet (Lily of the Valley) are compulsory! They are absolutely necessary to ensure good luck for the coming year.  But I digress. Let's talk about May Day in France.

There are three ways to celebrate - or even four, if you count not celebrating it. The first is the pagan celebration of Beltane, (Beltaine in French) the celebration of the day we move closer to summer than we are from spring. It is a time to plant and care for the crops that will feed us. It is on the opposite side of the pagan circle of the year from the Autumnal festival of Samhain (Halloween) the end of the harvest season. The traditional Maypole (mât du mai)  is the symbol of this festival as are the bonfire dances on April 30th. This is not widely celebrated by the French. Just as they do not make a big deal of the modern religious celebrations, they tend to be quiet about the ancient celebrations.

May Day is marked on the calendars as the "Fete du travail" (Labor day) and is the way to celebrate this day that most French people would cite. It makes sense because it is a

Chestnut Tree in bloom

paid holiday from work. It is held to celebrate the rights of workers. Marching ranks of workers parade throughout the country and usually there are protests (as with almost all gatherings of French people, as far as I can tell.) I expect if I mention this to Y, my French partner, he would say it is "obligatoire!" (required). 

Yeah, this year it's not really happening. Those who are at home aren't working and those who are considered essential workers have to work. I told Y we needed bread and he told me that no one would be open today. But he went out anyway and came back later totally shocked by the discovery that not only was the bakery open but so were the grocery, pharmacy, and butcher's shop. He gave me the baguette and exclaimed, "C'est incroyable!" (It's incredible.) I didn't tell him that in America, we would think it was incredible that everyone had the paid day off. As a

Wildflowers bloom because
trimming the grass
is considered unessential!

side note - the celebration of the laborers in France was modeled on a Chicago trade union that protested for an 8 hour workday on the 1st of May in 1886. The red flag they carried eventually was changed to the symbol of a red rose then later became a lily of the valley. Which brings us neatly to the third way the French celebrate the day. It's my favorite!

It is the third way of celebrating this day that touches my heart. It  is the selling and exchanging of “Muguets des Bois” (Lily of the Valley). They are also called "porte-bonheur" literally, "bringer of happiness." These fragrant, petit flowers are exchanged on the first of May as a token of friendship. In the lead up to May, every shop sells bouquets or pots of these lovely flowers. Knowing that this year, there would not be individuals selling them on the street corners, we picked up ours at the supermarket. The house is perfumed with the scent - and it gives me such a lift. 

I’ve read it is from the musk they produce, and this almost explains their French name, Muguet.  Can you believe that in medieval times, it was considered a man’s fragrance?  I’ve read that right up until the 19th century, the word “Muguet” was synonymous with ‘elegant young man.'  Actually, I wonder if that tradition might explain the heavy perfumes many men

Muguet des Bois

here wear today? Y worries that I am talking about  him. Just a moment.  "Non, mon amour - J'adore ton parfum. Ne t’inquiète pas!" I tell him, meaning I love his Christian Dior scent.He does not need to worry. Back to our discussion on this May custom.

Just why did the French choose May first to exchange these flowers?  Well, the blooms appear from the end of April and throughout the month of May, so it is the flower of the moment.  There is also a lovely story that says the French king, Charles IX, started this tradition in 1561, when he gave sprigs of Muguet des Bois to his courtiers for good luck. There is a dispensation that allows anyone to sell Muguet on this day. Normally only florists may sell flowers. I love seeing the stalls along the roadsides and the gardeners in front of their houses with little tables selling bunches of good luck. I'm missing that tradition this year but if this lucky charm works, our luck will be good, and we will buy them on the streets next year.

After breakfast, we took our flowers with us out on the terrace and read in the sunshine. I sipped coffee and take this time to write to you. It is a beautiful day to contemplate the end of the cold days. When I finish this blog, we  plan to take a long walk. I'm fairly sure we won’t see any lily of

Flowers tumble over a wall

the valleys along the river or in the flower beds. There are no woods nearby. But in my heart, I offer to you virtual Muguet des Bois flowers; they are your bearers of good luck and happiness.  This is our wish for you, a year full of good luck and friendship.
  
The walk was lovely and I took a lot of photos as usual. I'll add a few here to share with you. On the way back home, the sun was still shining but a light rain fell. I wondered where the clouds could be to drop rain on us while the sky was so blue? Like the stories we are all hearing and reading during this strange time of quarantine, it is just another mystery. For now, there is no mystery about the fact that we are all stronger together. 

Eventually, we will find ourselves on the other side of this epic struggle to

Good luck for the coming year

get through. Courage. We will make it! We are succeeding at keeping the curve down. The flowers are just a symbol to wish us all luck. It can't hurt.
A demain, les amis! Et Bonne Chance toujours!)
(Until tomorrow, friends! And Good Luck, always!)

Link to Day 47