A Saturday Walk

When the weather is rainy and stormy as it has been lately, it's much too muddy for Lucie and I to do our usual walk. So, I take her to the marsh. I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but let me explain. The class B road behind my house, our normal place to walk, becomes a muddy quagmire when it rains. Jensen Marsh, a county conservation park just north of town, is much better. Our trail there is an old raised railroad bed...no tracks left, but the gravel road is still there. No mud! When Lucie ventures off the trail, she leaps into the marshy water and swims. Still no mud! Wet, I can deal with. So today we went to the marsh. A lovely day to walk. In the 70's with a breeze, my kind of weather. We stayed on the trail so our jaunt lasted about 40 minutes altogether; we can go off the path and circle the marsh, but the grass is high and I wasn't keen on getting tick-infested.

There's so much to see even on this brief outing. The marsh attracts all type of water fowl. The Canada geese 'talked' to us as we passed. A variety of ducks dotted the water. I spied a kingfisher as well as a little blue heron. Non-water birds love the area, too. Myriads of red-wing blackbirds, grackles, goldfinch, and sparrows hurried from bush to bush. Frogs trilled from hiding places along the water's edge. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted from flower to flower. Bees buzz-z-z-zed.

Wild roses perfumed the air. Peeking up through the thick grasses, I saw lovely purple spiderwort. Such an icky name for a beautiful flower! Down in the ditches, wild iris (or blue flag, as it's called in the Midwest) stood knee-deep in brackish water. Within a few weeks there will be cattails lining the banks of the marsh and ripe black raspberries to nibble on as we walk. Lucie was wet and panting when we return to the car. It's been her kind of day, too!

There is a down side to this heavenly place to walk. In the summer of 2005, Remy and I were walking here. He suddenly stiffened and backed away from the edge of the trail staring intently into the grass. As I got closer, I could hear a whispery rattle. Remy trembled as I peered carefully into the thick grass. All I caught was a quick glimpse of a brownish body and the rattles as a timber rattler slithered away down the bank. I walk very carefully now with eyes wide open!

Another Possibility

I'm house-hunting again. My realtor and I looked at three candidates on Wednesday afternoon. This 1923 beauty is the clear leader right now. It's exactly 1 mile from work which means I could still walk on nice days. It's out of my target neighborhood, but is part of the Ingersoll neighborhood which is currently experiencing a revitalization. It's been completely re-done and is in move in condition. The only thing I'd have to do (once I figure out if my furniture will fit...and if it doesn't, well, most of it is second hand, so I'm not 'married ' to it!), all I would have to do is complete a tiny part of the fencing in the backyard so I could leave Lucie outside. Check it out here for more info and pictures. I am such an emotional buyer. What spoke to my soul as I toured this house? The three wine racks in the basement filled with wine that has been 'laid down' to age. The owner is obviously a cool person, wise and sophisticated. I want his house!!

Free Fun

It's true that Paris and France in general are pretty pricey. Food, hotels, rental cars and gas take a big chunk of your travel budget especially when the dollar is so weak against the euro. But, it's possible to be very well entertained in Paris....free! Every weekend the streets and corners of the city are lined with musicians, dancers, skaters, and artists who perform for your pleasure. If you want to throw some coins into their open guitar case or the basket they've set in a conspicuous place, that helps pay the rent and is much appreciated. Buying a CD earns you a big smile and an autograph during the break. It also makes an awesome souvenir of your visit. The group pictured here is "Borsalino," and they have a regular place on the north side of Place des Vosges. As I write this, I'm listening to their CD and remembering how much fun it was to listen to their very French jazz...lots of Django Reinhardt. Walking back towards the Notre Dame I spied another musician playing his guitar and singing catchy Brazilian tunes. I love Latin American music and couldn't resist another CD purchase, "Verde Junco Duo."














Some performers make their living by doing absolutely nothing....and doing it without moving a muscle. How do they survive standing this still, painted with gold in the hot Parisian sun?



















These skaters were set up on the square in front of Notre Dame. There were several of them slaloming through the paper cup skate course. This guy was especially talented. And especially hot! Yes, I threw several coins into his collection!




















This young man was performing right across the street from
our hotel on Blvd. St. Germain in front of the St. Germain -des-Pres church. While his partner played haunting music on her flute, he danced, cradling a crystal ball on his hands, arms, shoulders, and legs. He was exquisitely graceful and fluid. Well worth the euros I tossed in his basket.













Even in the south of France, the luscsious Provence, you can find free entertainment. These boules players were in the middle of a fiercely competitive tournament in Goult, one of my favorite Provencal villages. Mickey and I spent a lazy afternoon watching them throw the boules and argue vehemently over every toss.

Mickey and I always try to make the Isle-sur-la-Sorgue market on Sunday morning. This trip as we approached the center of town and the myriad of market vendors, we paused a moment. Knowing how easy it is to get separated and lost, we made a plan. "If I lose you amongst the antiques, spices, clothes, linens, jewelry, tee shirts, sunglasses, produce, art, etc. etc., let's plan to meet at noon in front of this statue." We turned to get our bearings...."oh my, it's not a statue at all," but yet another performer, painted white, standing stock-still in the early morning air. As we gawked, he silently moved his arm up and pointed. We threw a few coins in the basket we spied at his feet...the joke was on us!

Memorial Day

We were waiting for a management team meeting to start that summer afternoon in 2005. I was excited about my upcoming trip to France, my first, and chatting with a friend about my plans. Across the table a woman I didn't know interrupted our conversation. "Why in the world would you want to go to France?" she questioned, her voice dripping with disdain. "Those people don't even like us!" I was shocked by her rudeness and muttered something about not thinking that was true. And sure enough, she was wrong. Never during any of my three trips to France have I felt that I was disliked because I was an American.

Today I heard a piece on NPR that reinforces my opinion...that woman was so wrong. It was a Memorial Day story about a society of French families who adopt the graves of U.S. servicemen at the Colleville-sur-Mer cemetery above Omaha Beach. They place flowers on the graves of fallen soldiers who no longer have family that can come to France and honor their kinsmen. They do this out of honor and gratitude for the role America played in the liberation of France during WWII.

I can never think of an appropriately scathing retort when confronted by rudeness or bias. I'm definitely not known for my brilliant repartee. But even after three years, I'd like to find that woman today and invite her to listen to this moving report about Les Fleurs de la Memoire. I don't think she would say ever again..."those people don't even like us."

Chocolate and Zucchini

I was listening to NPR this morning as I always do while eating breakfast, and I heard a delightful report from Paris. Ari Shapiro interviewed Clothilde Dusoulier about bakeries in Paris and the perfect French baguette. Ah, the memories it evoked! I could almost smell the fragrant aroma of fresh baked bread and my mouth watered as the two of them broke off a bit of baguette with its familiar crunchy sound. They munched and raved about the fabulous taste, and I was right there with them savoring the gustatory memory. The background conversation of Clotilde greeting the shop keeper with her sing-song "Bonjour Madame" and her "Au revoir. Merci" as they left each shop left me yearning for another Parisian adventure. For now, though, I'll have to be content with listening to the radio and purchasing Clotilde's latest book, Edible Adventures in Paris. And I've already added Clotilde's blog to my favorites list. Check it out, Chocolate and Zucchini!

Three Cups of Tea

I'm in the midst of reading a very inspiring book called Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. It's the story of a failed attempt to climb K2 that led to a life dedicated to improving life in one of the world's most impoverished and dangerous places, the Karakoram Mountain region of Pakistan. Mortenson is the climber who, while being nursed back to health in the tiny village of Korphe, made a vow to come back and bring supplies to build a school to repay the villagers for their kindness. Little did he know that this promise would lead to his life's mission...providing education for poor village children, most especially to girls. His book, written in collaboration with David Oliver Relin, is filled with joy and despair, danger, adventure, beautiful scenery contrasted with abject poverty, inspiring kindness, and life lived at the very edge of survival. It's become a New York Times bestseller and has spawned the Central Asia Institute as well as Pennies for Peace. Both non-profit organizations work toward providing education based on cultural respect and understanding in this volatile part of our world. I recommend this book for not only its riveting good story, but also for its message that we all share in the responsibility of peace through knowledge and education.

It's Not You....It's Me.

You may have noticed a certain inconsistency in my blog posts recently. It's not you...it's me. My creative juices seem to ebb and flow; they're mostly ebbing lately. This is one reason I have such a hard time working on my novel, which is languishing under "Camille" in My Documents. When I have the energy, I don't have the inspiration; when I have the time, I don't have the energy. And yes, not even the energy to put together a simple blog post. And the fact that nothing of interest seems to be happening in my life lately...that explains the lack of inspiration.
Lack of energy...perhaps that is because work leaves me emotionally drained by the time I get home. My free time this past week has been filled with the creative juices of a friend. She's allowed me the privilege of reading the manuscript of her first novel. So I've been whisked away to southwestern Colorado on the wings of her story...a romantic mystery replete with flash floods, wildfires, car chases, and Native American magic.

No time, no inspiration and no energy....it's not you, it's me!

ps....you're right, the picture doesn't relate to anything in particular. It's just a collage of some of the pretty flower photos that I've taken. Maybe beauty will inspire?

Mother's Day

For a Mother.....

Mother,

Your voice learning to soothe

Your new child

Was the first home-sound

We heard before we could see.

Your young eyes

Gazing on us

Was the first mirror

Where we glimpsed

What to be seen

Could mean.

Mother,

Your nearness tilled the air,

An umbilical garden for all the seeds

Of thought that stired in our infant hearts.

You nurtured and fostered this space.

To root all our quietly gathering intensity

That could grow nowhere else.

Mother,

Formed from the depths beneath your heart,

You know us from the inside out.

No deeds or seas or others

Could ever erase that.

From: To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue

Pros and Cons

The house-hunting began again this week. Greg, my realtor, and I looked at three houses in my target neighborhood late Wednesday afternoon. House #1 is a two-story built in 1880 and recently redone by a pair of local designers. It had been divided into two apartments, and they've put it back to a single family home in an interesting way. The pros are that it's large, the interior colors are very modern, and it's cheap; the cons are it has no garage and the way it's laid out. The designers elected to leave the small kitchen on the second floor with the dining room. Off the living room (on the first floor) is the laundry with no doors on it! That plus the fact that the pipes have been known to freeze during extreme weather and that it is under termite treatment takes this house off my list.

House #2 is an 1882 Victorian with over 2000 sq. feet. The outside has been painted in traditional Victorian colors and style. The inside has been updated nicely. I loved that it was big; there are 4 bedrooms upstairs, one with a large walk-in closet...quite a surprise in a Victorian. It has a fenced yard and a nice study with a half bath. The cons, however, are major...no garage and I hate the kitchen! It's small and kind of dark. While there is plenty of room on the lot to add on, the price is towards the top of my budget; there wouldn't been any wiggle room for money to build a garage or re-do the kitchen.

House #3 was my favorite...and of course, the most expensive! It's a 1.5 story Victorian built in 1891. It's been re-done fabulous-ly! (is that a word?) The floors are quarter-sawn oak and have an inlaid border of walnut. While the fireplace doesn't work, you could put a gas log in very easily. Its surround is the original ceramic tile. The kitchen is gourmet...granite counter tops and all stainless appliances. Awesome lighting with task lights under all the cabinets. All new cabinetry, lovely colors throughout the house. Then upstairs....what a surprise! The entire top floor is the master suite complete with a flat screen HD TV (that stays!) room for a couch and coffee table as well as a queen sized bed. There's a built-in office area in one corner, double closets and built in drawers. The master bath is pure luxury. It's floored with granite tile that's heated! It has a floor to ceiling glass shower with a rain shower head as well as a regular one. It's big enough for you and three of your closest friends to shower together! Lots of built-ins. The downstairs bath has black/white tile with a tomette pattern which is also heated. Okay...here's the emotional selling point for me. Inside the back door of the kitchen is a switch---you press it and the garage door opens! Yes, it does have a couple of cons...the house is small ~1500 sq feet., the yard isn't fenced, it's probably at the very top of my price range, and the stairs to the master suite are steeper than normal. So...could I live here?

There are three other houses in the neighborhood that I'll look at before I make any decision. I'll keep you posted.

Eight Belles

It's not often that a sports story brings tears to my eyes, but yesterday's news report from the Kentucky Derby did just that. Big Brown was the winner; Eight Belles, the only filly in the race, crossed the finish line in second place, and then collapsed. She had broken both forelegs and had to be euthanized on the track. A sad, sad end to a beautiful horse. Her jockey reported that she began 'to gallop funny' before she went down, leading him to speculate that she had already sustained the fractures sometime during the race.

What makes this story even sadder? Reports that acknowledge the fraility of thoroughbreds due to interbreeding within the few highly successful bloodlines. And also reports that running on traditional dirt tracks like the one at Churchill Downs is very hard on young horses. So hard, in fact, that the state of California has outlawed them. Tracks there must have artificial surfaces.

Perhaps Barbaro's injury two years ago wasn't such an anomaly after all?

Elisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre

The young woman at the harpsichord was Elisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, one of a small group of female French composers of her era. Elisabeth was a child prodigy who made her first appearance at the court of Louis IV at the age of five. She lived in the entourage of Madame de Montespan until her marriage to the court clerk, Anton La Rue. This marriage ended in divorce; she subsequently married an organist, Marin de La Guerre. She continued to compose and perform her music until her death in 1729.

If you guessed that I learned about Madame de La Guerre during one of my trips to Paris, you would be wrong! I actually first heard of her last week at a dinner party that I attended as Edith's guest. The small group are all members of St. John's Episcopal Church in Boulder, and these potlucks are a get-acquainted activity sponsored by the church. I had a perfectly delightful evening. Three of the group were university professors, one woman was an Episcopal priest, another, a psychologist. The conversation was lively...mostly about politics and religion. (I thought those were two subjects you didn't talk about??) True to Boulder's reputation, all of us were liberal Democrats and we debated why we backed either Hillary or Barrack. It was great fun!

My introduction to Madame de La Guerre, however, came from another dinner guest...Anna, who among other things is a professional musician. She plays the viola de gamba and is putting together a concert for later this year that will feature the music of Elisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre. Click here to enjoy a taste of Elisabeth's music direct from the court of Louis IV.

A Trip Back in Time

The 12-mile carriage trip from my home in Paris left me dusty, tired and irritable. As the horses clattered over the cobblestones into the entrance of the Chateau de Versailles, I muttered to myself that I didn't care if the King did request our presence at his grand soiree..."I need a bath, a glass of wine and a nap!"

A few hours later, I was refreshed. Madame, the Queen, sent her own ladies-in-waiting to draw my bath, and her servants brought me delicacies from the royal kitchen. I dressed and readied myself for the evening's entertainment. I couldn't help but feel the excitement that only comes when I visit the court of Louis.

Walking into the Grand Salon through the wonderful Galeries des le Glaces, I caught my reflection in one of the myriad of mirrors. "I look so beautiful," I thought. Hundreds of candles flickered and reflected in the mirrors; it felt magical. The other guests joined the promenade into the Salon. I saw many old friends as well as a few young men that were new to our group. Noblemen, to be sure. Handsome, eligible...or even if not eligible, well....that was their wives' problem, not mine!

As I entered the Grand Salon, I saw my friend, Marie, and joined the circle of young people chatting about the King's losses at the gaming table. We laughed and drank excellent wine while the servants gathered chairs around the harpsichord. A bell chimed, signalling the start of the evening's entertainment. Rustling silks and fluttering fans took the place of lively conversation. I smoothed my elegant rose silk skirt and quickly glanced down. My decolletage was perfect...blush pink, firm and swelling. My breasts glowed with a film of dewy moisture. I looked up, snapped open my fan, and made eye contact with the most beautiful blue male eyes....

A young woman entered from a side door and took her place at the harpischord. The crowd quieted and she began to play...

(click on the bar at the top of the page and download the file to play the music)

...come back tomorrow to learn who this musician is and why I've written about her.

Jamestown, Colorado

I spent the first three days of my time away at a customer conference put on by our aircraft vendor, Air Methods. They held it in the very nice Westin Tabor Center in downtown Denver and spared no expense wining and dining us. It's always nice to be treated well, but my favorite part of the trip was the final four days.

I spent Wednesday afternoon, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday visiting my friend, Edith, who was house-sitting in the tiny town of Jamestown. Located about 20 minutes up the mountain outside of north Boulder, it's just a cute little place. We stayed in the lovely red house, ate dinner one night at the Merc, and spent our mornings walking Sonny, the house Golden Retriever.

The best part of the house was actually James Creek that formed the border of the backyard. I slept with my bedroom window open and listened to it rushing over the rocks on its way down the mountain to Boulder. It sounded so refreshing!

I managed to squeeze in visits with several friends as well as a trip to my favorite place in Boulder, the Boulder Bookstore. If you're ever in Boulder, it's a stop you must make. Support for independent, locally owned bookstores is so important. This bookstore doesn't disappoint either. It has a huge children's section, many shelves devoted to local interest books, and is attached to a great little coffee shop. Check it out!