FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

The reflective top photo reminds me of the advice of Thich Nhat Hanh who tells us to do a task for the doing, not to get it over with and behind us; in this way nearly everything we do can become a meditation. http://tea-and-taichi.blogspot.com/2008/10/thich-nhat-hanh-doing-dishes.html Thoroughly enjoyed this post (as I do all of them, even when I don't comment).

What a blessing to be able to work in nature to produce something beautiful and delicious. You are both so lucky to live and do what you do, although I know it is hard work. Your photos are magnificent, Kristin. You and your husband certainly complement one another with your talents.

Dear Kristin,
Again, you touched my heart by sharing Jean-Marc's tender heart and the memory of his father's passing. Praying for God's favor and prosperity over your vineyard, and on the hands of Jean-Marc as he takes delight in what he was born to do. May Jean-Marc continue in his learning and understanding of this business and be blessed with many helping hands! xoxo

Kristin, you and Jean-Marc are such a beautiful couple! I love the synergy between you, the reverence in which you hold each other. You truly understand each other, and that is something so precious!

How wonderful to possess the passion to plant and water those baby vines by hand. That contact with Mother Earth is to be experienced with reverence. I congratulate Jean Marc and your whole family for its love for the "terroir".

I look forward to seeing the baby vines grow and I hope the wine is exceptional.

I made the yogurt cake a couple of days ago and it was delicious and so easy to make. Thank you so much for the recipe. Joyce, Boise, Idaho

Your lovely lead photo really sets the stage for today's post, Kristi. And the moving lyrics from a favorite Quincy Jones song seem to fit as well:

"Everything must change
Nothin' stays the same
Everyone will change
No one stays the same

The young become the old
And mysteries do unfold
'Cause that's the way of time
Nothin' and no one goes unchanged

There are not many things in life
You can be sure of, except
Rain comes from the clouds
Sun lights up the sky
And hummin' birds do fly

Winter turns to spring
A wounded heart will heal
But never much too soon
Yes, everything must change

The young become the old
And mysteries do unfold
'Cause that's the way of time
Nothin' and no one goes unchanged..."

In my long life, I have never felt more at peace than I did at my grandmother's farm in Plaucheville, Louisiana. So, I understand Jean-Marc very well. It is to her front porch swing I return when I need comforting.

It was WWII and our main crop was cotton for military uniforms. Due to lack of field hands, we all had a turn at gingerly plucking the fluffy, white cotton balls from among the stickers and green leaves when the time came. We emptied the long sacks of cotton we dragged through the rows into waiting, horse drawn wagons that carted off our gleanings to the local cotton gin. For my day in the hot sun and all my labors, I earned a nickel. I was four years old.

To this day, however, no scene is more welcome than neat, red rows from which thick, green leaves wave and white cotton heads bow in the summer breeze.

Today, my own porch offers swings in emulation of MeMe's well worn, unpainted cypress front porch but, alas, my porch is not as quiet. From her porch swing, I could listen to and smell the rain that came up the curvy, gravel road quieting the rising dust. Unlike less fortunate city kids, I could feel the changes in temperature that heralded welcomed summer rain.

Winds driving the rain made the porch rockers move as though occupied and I would make up stories about who was sitting there rocking, drinking strong coffee and exchanging stories. ;o)

Fay Plauche' Butler

This was lovely, thanks for sharing. Good luck to all the baby vines! And bon courage to Jean-Marc!

Working in the soil soothes the soul, clears your mind, and helps you commune with those you love, whether here or not.

Magic, Kristin, pure Magic. Laced into the fabric of this beautiful post is the subliminally powerful message which demonstrates clearly why your blog continues to resonate with us. Your deep love and respect for Jean-Marc and your children is truly the "binding factor". Magic, Kristin, pure Magic. Merci

Aloha!

I especially like your story/posting today. Beautiful.

There's something about working the land, getting your hands dirty, planting the same things your ancestors did, that makes me feel connected to those ancestors, as connected as when you observe the same religious traditions as they did. There is little more satisfying watching a tiny seed or seedling you planted with your own two hands grow into something beautiful and of course, delicious! I am very happy you are sharing your vineyard planting stories and wish you lots of luck!

The bittersweet memories of the passing of our parents live on.... Bringing a vine to life on this day is healing for sure.

Tirer sa révérence also means to give up (gracefully), as in Jean Sablon's lovely song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__ZFe7kqoqM where he goes roaming to heal his heart.

To me, a bittersweet memory of my childhood and faraway birthplace.

Our dear Kristi,
You are truly gifted and your words have once again wrapped themselves around our hearts.
Thank you for sharing this with us.
Love
Natalia XO

I understand exactly what Jean-Marc is feeling.

We live in Houston, and too often we get wrapped up in our busy life. There is just not enough time to get everything done.

But every once in awhile, I need a change of pace. And so I go out to our farm, about an hour west of town. Just pastureland, not raising anything but dogs and children (my son is now 22). Sometimes I just drive around on the tractor, cutting the grass, piling brush, collecting dead branches off the trees.

Quelquefois, je parle à Dieu. Et quelquefois, je écoute.

THANK YOU ALL for the sweet and thoughtful message. When I realized that the Universe picked this special day for bringing life to those baby vines, it actually put a smile on my face which might means that my grief is finally over...

Touching and beautifully written, as always, Kristin. I sent you an email that may be bogged down in your overflowing mailbox, so I will repeat it here. I have purchased some copies of your books and will be offering them as give-aways to wonderful Francophiles who subscribe to my newsletter. I thought you would like to know. They will be delighted!
May the vines thrive! Amitiés!

Kristen, God bless Chief Grape for doing his grapes organically. Now that is a wine i will want to drink -- Yeah team! One thing i want to mention (he probably knows this already) but the Euphorbia (depending on species) is an allelopathic plant which means it basically poisons the soil around it in order to do a hostile "take over" so to speak of all other plants. What the eco-managers and organic growers/environmentalists here in Denver, CO area do often is to hire a bunch of sheep/goats to devour it. Great solutions but they might like baby grape vines as well :-) what do they do in France? I would love to know. . .

Lucky indeed is the person who lives close to the earth and loves all that it has to offer. Jean-Marc received a special kind of solace from the earth as he planted the baby vines on the anniversary of his father's death, The pictures and your words convey it all with the final picture of Jean-Marc's strong hands resting on the weathered outdoor wooden table seeming to act as a summery. Thank you for sharing this beautiful and meaningful tribute. Best wishes.

Kristi. I am loving your sharing the vine/wine process from scratch ! And the fact that it's been done by hand and with so much consideration and love of the land makes it all so special. Each little vine has been tended to with love and respect ...it is bound to be a very special wine indeed!

*porch swings.

Oh, if I could only type as well as I can really spell!

Thank you, Kristin.
Thank you, Jean-Marc.
Thank you, Fay.
I find that it is impossible to be depressed while gardening. Exhausted, inspired, frustrated, impatient, happy, and many other things, but always in awe.

Kristi,
Thank you for sharing this with us....

And to Jean-Marc,
I lost my Mom in my twenties so I understand that sadness. But I love the thought that your Father was with you during those peaceful hours-and so proud-as you watered your vines together. Blessings to all of you and those beautiful vines. Thank you for sharing...