FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

We've had unusual weather, lately, and local businesses have suffered from the lack of customers. But today is a perfect day to head outside. Update: At the time of this posting, it is pouring cats and dogs (il pleut des cordes)! 

TODAY'S WORD: Le BONHEUR

 : happiness

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Mom and I are lounging in the garden. It’s late afternoon, or la fin de l'apres-midi according to the language of Molière. All around us the birds, the trees, and the sweet-scented breeze offer their own poetic expression in a tongue understood by all. It is nature's intoxicating melody, and we are floating in it now.

“Where is everybody?” Mom wonders, surfacing from the bucolic trance.  

I take a deep breath. Mom's frequent questions—'What time is it?' 'What day is it?' and 'Where is everyone?'—keep me busy. Perhaps she’s exercising my reporting skills? In reality, she’s experiencing short-term memory loss, something we're both familiar with. "Let's see...Jean-Marc is in Marseilles, giving a wine tasting. Jackie is in Cassis, working, and Max…Max reminded me just this morning, via text, he is in Croatia." 

"Croatia? With Ana?" Mom wonders.

"No, with his friends."

Mom sighs peacefully, leading me to understand a restful vacation can be found right here in our front yard. Jules reclines on a chaise longue beside the snapdragons and flowering onions, while I sit nearby on a wooden chair next to the fountain. In the water, the first white nénuphars are budding and dragonflies hover here and there.

Ricci is doing figure-eights around us, delighted her mother-daughter meute has moved outside. From here our little shepherd can wander over to the hedge where she loves to slip under the flimsy fence and visit the neighbors, just like Smokey did. Only, unlike our dearly departed golden retriever, she barks at les voisins. 

"Ricci! Reviens!" With that we go over the drill: "Ça c'est chez nous et là c'est chez les voisins." I can almost hear my dog's thoughts: Yes, but the cats are over there. Little does Ricci know her forays next door are only adding insult to injury: for the day we brought Ricci home, 18-year old Lili The Cat moved back to the neighbor’s (where she decamped when the previous owner of our house (who also owned Lili) left, only to return when Smokey passed away two years ago). When we got Ricci last fall, it was déjà vu: there was no way Lili was sharing this yard with un toutou! 

Back here in the garden, beside the fountain, Mom reaches down to pet our proud protector who is leaning against the side of the lawn chair. "She is so soft," Mom coos. "How can a dog be this soft?" 

"I don't know," I admit. It boggles the mind. Then again, just about anything boggles the mind when you are seeped this deep in peace. I wonder how I could ever be so worked up, as I was a few times earlier today, over everything and nothing. What does any of it matter in the grand scheme of things, beyond this garden wall? Sinking back into my chair I relax, inhaling jasmine floating over from the flowering vine beside the bougainvillea. We need to sit out here more often, I think, turning to gaze at Mom.

Though it is the second week of June, Jules is wearing a light parka and a woolen cap. I'm beginning to understand why she is cold all of the time and it’s not because she lived in Mexico all those years. We’ll have more information on Tuesday, when we return to see the internist in Marseille for The Final Report. I’ve driven back and forth to the city so often, Jean-Marc says I could do it les yeux fermés. I feel proud about my new road skills even if it scared me driving home in a storm the day I took Mom back to the hospital. 

“The weather has been strange,” Mom remarks.

“It sure has,” I agree.

“Look at that blue sky now!”

Above the pepper tree, I see the doves flying in. Zut! I'm all out of bird food. I go and get some bread, breaking off pieces and dropping them beside the geraniums unaware Mom is studying me from her chair.

As I scatter bread for the birds, Mom watches me closely.“You are like a little Julie,” she remarks, her eyes twinkling with a mix of nostalgia and pride.

"I'm trying to be," I smile. Mom is and will always be my model, no matter how many things we don't agree on, including who should be president or how often to feed the birds (whenever they're around, Mom would argue). More and more I am coming around to Mom's ways. 

When I’m done feeding the birds I go over to investigate a curious shape in the pond. With any luck, it’s our resident frog! Kneeling down to stir the water, I see it is only a leaf.

"You have not changed," Mom smiles, sharing a razor-sharp memory from my childhood when I would go exploring in the wash (the empty river bed) behind our trailer. I loved returning after the rain, to sit along the bank and search for tadpoles. 

Fifty years later we are worlds away from the trailer park, here in the South of France. Whoever would have guessed such a future? I settle back into the chair beside Mom and we sneak glances at each other. These are like little pinches to the arms reminding us how lucky we are to be here, together. A moment of quiet pervades our union in the garden, as the fountain gushes, the perfume of jasmine wafts past, and the soft fur of Ricci, resting between our chairs, caresses our skin. The concerns of the day have disappeared into this peaceful moment. A few more moments float by with only the sounds of nature when Mom’s voice gently punctuates the silence.

“Kristi, this is what it’s all about.”

I savor Mom's profound declaration, internalizing exactly what it means. It is a soulful revelation that, should we think too much about it it might smother us in meaning. Maybe that’s why God invented comic relief…

Running my fingers through my hair, my thoughts return to the present. "I can't figure out what's happened to my hair," I say to Mom. "It so stiff and dull! I think I forgot to rinse out the conditioner!" I finally admit.

“Welcome to the club!” Mom laughs, acknowledging our shared absentmindedness. And we sink back into our chairs, lighthearted, as the birds, the dragonflies, the dog, the frog, the flowers, and all of the trees carry on effortlessly, oblivious to the time or the date. If only we could live on forever this way, in this carefree garden, free from worries and the march of time.

Jules and the tourterelles. These doves, who Jules calls "Mama" and "Papa", befriended Mom back in 2018 when she moved in with us. While workers renovated the garage (Mom's future studio), Jules escaped the pounding and hammering by finding a quiet spot in a corner of the garden. A feathered friendship was born! We are amazed at how tame these doves are, and how much company they give Mom (and all of us).

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Is it a fountain or is it a pond? I often hesitate when referring, in my stories, to this "water feature". Seven years ago, thanks to an initiative begun by Jeanne in the UK, this broken "bassin" was restored as a housewarming gift from my readers. A haven for fish, birds, dragonflies, and frogs, we enjoy it so much, even if we still haven't figured out how to control the green mossy water. Should it be crystal clear? Or is this what a fountain-pond looks like? Either way, it is a joy to listen to the falling water and to see the activity inside the little green pool.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Listen to the French and the English terms via this sound file

le bonheur = happiness
la fin de l'apres-midi = late afternoon
la langue de Molière = the language of Molière
la meute = pack
les voisins = the neighbors
reviens = come back
ça c'est chez nous et là c'est chez les voisins = this is our place and that is the neighbors' place
un toutou = a dog
les yeux fermés = with eyes closed
zut = darn
les nénuphars = water lilies

Local culture: You'll see these Moke cars here and there, in La Ciotat, Cassis, and other beach towns. They are part of the culture and it is always a pleasure to see them go by.


More local charm outside this friterie, or French fry stand, currently closed for vacation.