FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Jean-Marc and I are finally telling the story of why we packed up and left our vineyard and our dream estate. Read our co-authored memoir, The Lost Gardens, currently going out in installments. 

In August of 2017, my family and I said adieu to our heavenly domain by the Mediterranean sea. Here, beside the famous Bandol appellation, my husband, Jean-Marc, started his vineyard from scratch, and here is where I fell in love with a wild permaculture garden. In the midst of clearing and planting, we settled into the 19-century mas at the edge of an ancient olive grove.

As romantic as it sounds, this is not a memoir about renovating a farmhouse in Provence, and our story is nothing like the Hollywood hit, A Good Year. It is an honest and raw account of what was for us--our marriage our mental health and our faith--One Hell of A Decade.

Between hailstorms and compost thieves, and in the midst of my sobriety and my husband's mad pursuit of wine, we survived the first vineyard (2007-2012) only to have our spirits pelted and our dreams crushed at the second domain (2012-2017). For ten years our lives were dictated by wine, the weather, and unbridled passion. Now, after a sudden move and a loss that nearly broke us, we are picking up the pieces, chapter by chapter, as we share about our struggles and the love misplaced, somewhere among the vines.

Excerpt from The Lost Gardens:

A creak at the door woke me from my trance. There was my husband of 22 years. The Frenchman who, letter by steamy love letter, wooed me back to his country. The father of my children. The man whose every inspiration I had followed, no matter where it led us. (Except for the time he wanted to move to Healdsburg, California, in search of American grapes. No! I put my foot down then. France was my home now, even if we were about to uproot once again.)

Watching Jean-Marc approach, I set aside the towel I had been folding: the cloth was stiff and bristly from drying on the clothesline (our dryer broke down at our previous vineyard--at which point it seemed like a good time to practice the French art of hanging the laundry: oh, the romantic illusions we create in order to withstand unconventional living).

My husband studied me for a few moments, his hazel eyes soft and tender before he said those unforgettable words: "I will understand if you want to leave me."

***

photo by Cynthia Gillespie-Smith

Please Note: this is a book-in-progress. Follow along as we write it.

=> The online edition is $29. Upon purchase, a pop-up window will open with the book's website, login, and a password to access the story. (Be sure to look for the pop-up window in your browser. Email if you cannot find it: kristin.espinasse@gmail.com)