FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Don't fret about having missed the sunflowers, dear Kristin! I live amidst huge sunflower fields and learned that they no longer are tournesols but just ...sols, once they opened their sunny face they do not longer turn with the sun! Turning has been bred out of the agricultural sunflower so they don't waste their plant energy by turning their head, following the sun... Sad, isn't it! So once you can look into the face of a sunflower in the evening sun you can be sure it is either a brave misfit or sauvage... So take your sunflower picture in the early morning when they all look east, welcoming a new and sunny day!

My relatives lived on a 100-year -old wheat farm in North Dakota...acres of waving,golden stalks, making the most delicious sound.
I now live in Los Angeles, but when I return to Minnesota, it's the wind in the tall pine trees that send a chill down my spine...I'm a child again, picking wild berries with my mother on Blueberry Hill.

Lovely descriptions of the countryside at this time of year Kristin - that's part of the magic which can best be appreciated cycling. The sounds and smells are missed when motoring. Your life is too hectic for that - but an open top car would be the next best thing. The wind in your hair and the scent of cut grass and wild flowers would not be lost. Then when you stop you will hear the wind in the wheat. Go for it Kristin!
Message from South Africa

Hi Kristin,
I love the sound of rustling wheat. We were stationed in Kansas several times and lived near some wheat fields. We also would hike in the Konza Prairie and the sound of the prairie grasses swaying in the wind was lovely.

I live in Australia where the drumming of cicadas is also a signal of the arrival of the dry heat of summer. I loved the idea of listening to the sound of wheat. It made wish to be back in south-west France where we have spent so many happy times. But back home here in Sydney one of the most evocative sounds is the screeching of sulphur-crested cockatoos outside our window - a raucous, insistent sshriek that brings the sound of the country to inner city Sydney as they swoop between the gum trees in the streets.

The sound of leaves rustling by the wind is a soothing sound to me. After walking our dog Simon in the early morning, I just have to sit and listen to the natural music that nature brings to us here in the woods. It's so peaceful and calming in this hectic world of life.

When we were children of seven or eight, my older sister and I, outside of Foremost in Southern Alberta, Canada, we played hide and seek in the tall wheat fields. It is one of my best memories. Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing the sound of the wheat stalks blowing in the wind. Lal Minton

Salut Kristin,

Today’s story reminded me of my early years on a farm in Northern Illinois. We didn’t grow wheat, but did grow lots of corn. On a calm, hot and humid summer evening in August, you could actually hear the corn grow!

Now days in Arizona, I settle for the wind blowing though the ponderosa pines as we summer in Flagstaff.

I hope that Jules in safely home in Mexico and bending John’s ear with stories of her trip and the visit with you and your family.

À bientôt

Here in the Northeast US in Spring and summer we have the "peepers"(in some places also called tinkletoes or pinkletinks! I thought the wordsmiths among your readers would enjoy those nicknames) They are small tree frogs that make a high pitched 'peep' at dusk and in the early evening). They remind me of the cigale--although they don't sound anything like them ---except that they herald the warm weather. I love the sound of them. They are the sound of nightfall in Connecticut, just as the cigale is the sound of a Provencal summer.

My spring alarm clock is the cardinal who starts singing at day break. And yes, the peepers peep mightily all night long in the early spring but now we have the bullfrogs and the crickets, like in France. No wheat in Westwood MA but there is the constant chatter of chipmunks of which we have a bumper crop this year!

To add to your word list for today, in Québec blé d'Inde is the expression for sweet corn. During corn season, there will be signs along rural roads when the delicious vegetable is for sale.

Hi Kristin,

Your beautiful photos today remind me of Van Gogh's wheat field paintings and your description of the wheat "sizzling" makes me feel like I'm right there. Thanks for a lovely story!

The "whispering" aspens and the "gurgling" mountain brook! Ah, I will hear them again soon! They speak to my soul and I "need" them for spiritual nourishment.

The sounds of mourning doves takes me back to the coolness of early summer mornings from my childhood in Missouri.

Bill Facker, I would love to hear those screaming potatoes.

I love all the sounds mentioned in these posts. Another I've noticed outside my window is the "bowing" of tree branches as they occasionally rub against each other.

I love beauty, too, in all its forms. An image that has stayed with me for years is of my then one-year-old son gently reaching for lightning bugs, a few of which landed in his hand. And when he looked at them, he said, "Stars."

I love the sound of rain beating on the roof or the windows. Now, living most of my adult life in San Francisco, where there is sometimes "too much" rain, and not enough sun, I grew up in Phoenix, where rain was always a blessed event. Even though now I am always longing for more sun and more warmth, I still love the sound of rain!

Kristin,

What sound do I love? The extraordinarily loud purr of one of my beloved cats (who died last week), and a sound which I still hear. (Phantom purr?)

Your message today is pure art. Wonderful!

I've been lucky. Growing up in Los Angeles, I have had the best of two worlds: the beaches (from Redondo Beach to Malibu Beach) and beautiful Low Sierra Mountains (along the Tule River)...both places have been and still are extremely relaxing to me. Oh...I almost forgot...the sound of the little birds that sing outside my bedroom window every morning. They always make me smile.

I just thought of my most favorite and most missed thing. Before we had lasic surgery, my husband and I used to lay down beneath the Christmas tree and with our glasses off. The blurry lights were magical.

Your description of your mom's leaving on the "wings of a cicada song" was wonderful! They really are the sounds of summer. Glad you love your mom enough to miss her when she leaves! :D

"...braided wheat tips crowned by those bleached feathery locks..."--that was a beautiful description! I can hear the song.

Sweet story, my pleasure to read and relate to you on this spectacular spring evening. Here the sun is still bright and just outside my window the tall pasture grasses are shimmering and dancing in the wind. Your story was made even sweeter by the fact that I heard my first cicada of the season here yesterday afternoon. Also today, as I made my morning rounds visiting my flowers, I looked at my 12 to 18 inch hollyhocks and thought of yours wondering if they were in bloom.

For me the sweetest sounds must be the bubbling, joyous song of the little wren and equally lovely and much more elusive is the exquisite serenade of the dipper bird (or water ouzel). I imagine their song is as enchanting as the songs the Sirens must have sung to lure the ships to their shores. I also love the sound of the mountain brooks and creeks. Just last night I sat alongside mine, breathing in her sweet scent and letting her melody lull my cares away. I’m heading back there now….

Lovely story and photos, I could almost taste the apricot. Hope Jules made it safely home! xoxo

Yes, I have heard the wheat in a field and the sound of the wind in the pines in the mountains, or the rain on my roof, but most of all I am blessed to be able to go to sleep every night with the sound of the waves a few blocks away. I loved the sound of the cicadas when I was in Provence, but they never stopped. Sort of like the frogs by the river. When one stops to think about our senses I think we first think of sight because it is the most predominent, but hearing the sounds can be wonderful, or how about smells. What wonderful scents abound around you? And then there is touch....think on that. Thank you for reminding me of all these senses.

I love the way you, Kristin, describe things around you. I said it before, that your story makes me feel I'm there. Your photos are also great.
Hope your mom has had a safe and sound trip home. Last time, I was surprised by Jules' 24-hour long trip to France. My recent return trip from China, including transit and plane delay lasted 22 hours. That was so tiring. Je souffre encore du décalage horaire, sleeping and waking up at odd hours.
I live not far from the ocean, but I wake up, not au chant du coq, but to the sound of birds singing, in the early morning. Each time hearing them, I think of Cendrillon being waken up by the cute little birds in the Disney movie. It's just lovely.
Bonne journée, Kristin!

The story I wrote is not a follow up to the magic of sound but rather a follow up to the moments we tend to miss as suggested in your story.

Why is it that we just need to keep learning the same lessons over and over again?

It was a long time ago that I discovered the importance of catching the light, that magical moment when the sun's light cast a warm, almost peach-like glow. It is an ephemeral time that the impressionist artists found which influenced many if not most of their paintings. I simply found it by accident when I took up my amateur photography about 30 years ago.

Last friday that magical moment caught my eye once again. It had been a beautiful sunny day. At the end of the day, I decided to go snip a sprig of lilac in the backyard. All winter long I look out the kitchen window as I do my dishes and dream of the spring day when I will first smell that intoxicating lilac perfum. On my way back into the house, I looked up into a flowering tree. As I did, I could see that magical glow. Experience told me that I had about 5 minutes to get my camera and catch the photo. Dinner preparation was calling me but I just didn't want to lose the moment.

Into the house I went.....grabbed my camera and clicked off a few shots. Then as quickly as it came it was gone. I was pleased with myself but not for long. That is when it hit me. The realization that I had in fact lost a different kind of moment only a few hours earlier.

My day began with office work and errands. The afternoon proceeded with fulfilling a promise to help a friend and lastly to help my daughter move out of her dorm. While I was at my friend's house, I MISSED THE MAGICAL MOMENT.

When I arrived at her house, we said our salutations and immediately began the task we had set out to do. Her concentration was fractured. I tried to remain on task. She was like a bird that just wanted to fly. Under her repeated suggestion we dropped our work and "flew" outside. Once outside, I knew the decision was correct. The week long forecast was for rain. Enjoying the sun and fresh spring air was a commodity we just couldn't pass by. Of course, all perfect moments have to been interrupted by reality. Up the driveway he came. The dumpster man was searching for the spot to place his container that would ultimately be used for the roofing scraps. Me, being the anal helper that I am, just had to access the situation and give a mouthful of advice. In the midst of my verbal garbage I looked over at my friend as she sat in her wheelchair. Her beautiful tiny face was tilted upward and she was smiling with half-closed eyes. All around her and Mr. Dumpster man and I was a flurry of apple blossom petals dancing on the sweet smelling spring-time breeze. "Look look look it is like a wedding" she said with excited joy. Rudely all I could do was chastise her for not paying attention to the problem at hand.

It has been a week now and my mind's eye continues to play the visual of her lovely face at peace among the falling petals.

Forgive me my dear friend for losing that ephemeral moment that I should have shared with you.

Like the peach-glow light that finds it way to me and my camera when I pay attention, I pray that another magical moment will find it's way to us. Hopefully I will be wise enough to see it this time.

Hi Rosalie,
"rose trémière" = hollyhock

Hi Deborah,
Yes, we do miss some magical moments, but there will always be another day, another time, another Spring and another flurry of apple blossom petals ~~ and still more joy to come our way ... and more surprises!

Hi Kristin
I really enjoy reading your accounts of daily life on a French farm, the chance to live en France vicariously, and the chance to add to my French vocabulary. But, at the risk of being picky, I politely question your translation of "la courtoisie" as "curtesy". I think you meant courtesy.

Merriam-Webster defines "curtesy" as "a husband's interest upon the death of his wife in the real property of an estate that she either solely owned or inherited provided they bore a child capable of inheriting the estate" It's an old-fashioned legal term that is now abolished in most of the U.S., Canada and the UK.

... and thanks again for your wonderful blog.

Et Bonne journée à vous tous!

Bisous.