FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Following Jean-Marc's wine tour... lunch with Elizabeth’s family and friends at a hidden beach in Cassis. Left to right: Katie, Olivia, Victor, Kristi, Lily, Elizabeth, and Jean-Marc. 

For today's story, I asked Chatgpt to summarize the English text in one French word. Here's the response I got: "A word in French that summarizes your story could be "Éclat" which means "Radiance" or "Sparkle." It represents the vibrant and joyful atmosphere depicted in the narrative." Thanks, Chatgpt! And for anyone reading, find out where the joy and sparkle come from when you read the rest of this post.

TODAY'S WORD: un éclat

    : radiance, sparkle

un éclat de rire = a burst of laughter

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Sometime in the last week, les cigales woke up from their 5-year siesta and now they are screeching their lungs out. While that is a funny image, I guess it isn't entirely correct. That ear-piercing trille may be produced in some other energetic way, leaving me wondering where cicadas get all their peps in summer's heatwave.

I, too, am feeling unusually peppy this sweltering afternoon as I skip over to Mom's to share a recent adventure. As I reach the side of our villa and approach the sliding glass door to Chez Jules, a few black and white birds fly off. The royal blue patch on their backs is now a blur as the magpies disappear into the giant parasol pines above. I shake my head in appreciation. Mom is getting very close to taming those pies now that she's won over les tourterelles, les pigeons, les hérissons and a few stray cats. The trail of crumbled croquettes (appealing to birds, cats, and hedgehogs alike) leads right up to her baie vitrée. Sliding open the door, I enter the studio. Bookshelves flank the entry with each and every treasure Jules has rescued from the neighborhood “street library” in the 5 years since moving here from Mexico.

My mom is finishing her dinner. A copy of Battlefield of the Mind is propped open on the kitchen island (more books line the shelves below) and I see Mom's been busy with her green marker, underlining important passages. It seems Joyce Meyer is off Mom's liste noire for the moment. (Pastors walk a fine line with Mama Jules.)

"Whatcha got in there?" I say, smiling towards the frying pan. Looks like it's saumon et patates today, and it always hits the spot. Comfort food, Mom might say. Jules's fan is whirring from the kitchen counter. To think just last week the little space heater was propped up on that same comptoir. And now, le ventilateur. It's broken (and only goes up to the second speed) but it's fine, Mom assures me. Not one year ago that same fan was carefully placed on the floor, all for dear old Smokey's comfort. I can still see his golden locks fluttering in the "breeze," and my throat gets a lump as I recall the memory. 

"So what's new?" Mom asks and I tell her all about our lively lunch in Cassis with Elizabeth, Victor, and the girls. It all happened after Elizabeth responded to an announcement in my newsletter for one of Jean-Marc's wine tours...et voilà after several hours together in Cassis, I was feeling that kind of refreshment that comes from being in soulful company. Elizabeth's daughter, Olivia, and her friends, Lily and Katie just graduated from Georgetown. What a feeling that must be to have secured jobs after earning their degrees. And now to be toasting above the Mediterranean Sea. Tchin-tchin!

In a paillote above a hidden beach in Cassis, we shared deep-fried fleurs de courgettes, les accras, and crevettes and chatted about France, Charlotte N.C. and everything in between. That's when I realized I was the last person on earth to learn about Lorde--the girls' favorite singer.

I had been telling the girls about my job as a blogger--sharing about my readership (including Elizabeth, whose been a faithful lectrice since 2006) as well as a disheartening trend: this past 5 years, with the expanse of social media, blog subscribership has plunged. "These days people enjoy short snippets from Instagram or Facebook, and "reels" or videos that are no longer than 10 seconds," I explained.

That's when Lily told me about Lorde, the famous young singer who went off social media and began a weekly newsletter. All the girls agreed they enjoyed reading the longer format. It gave me such hope to know young people are signing on to newsletters and taking the time to read them. Algorithms be gone!

I returned home from that meetup feeling refreshed. "It's good to see you this happy," Mom said, as Lili the cat curled up between us." It was the second or third time Mom said it and, for a moment I felt a little defensive, as in, what do you usually see me as? Grumpy? 

This was no time to take things personally. "We all like to see each other happy," I replied. And with that, Mom and I began counting our blessings. Our conversation ended in les éclats de rire as I repeated a positive affirmation Mom first shared back when I was a teenager. Now, at 55 (and a little touchy from hormonal changes...) it still resonates: 

I'm on top, in touch, and in tune with myself
I like who I am and I'm glad to be me!
I'M FREE!

I may have made up that last line. But I like it and it's the message I'm leaving you with today, dear reader. Be free... on top, in touch, and in tune. I realize, now, that this is what I had experienced at lunch: a thoughtful group of people who were in tune with themselves and the world around them. And this was a blessing!

I leave you with another blessing, below, my wise Mom, and wish you all a happy weekend. 

Amicalement,

Kristi

A photo of my Mom, Jules, and Smokey from last summer.

COMMENTS
Thank you for your comments and corrections, which are much appreciated. Click here to comment.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc and Kristi pronounce the French and English terms

un éclat = radiance, sparkle, glow
la cigale = cicada (funny, « cigale » can also mean « spendthrift »)
le trille = trill
le peps = pep
la villa = house
la pie = magpie
la tourterelle = dove
le hérisson = hedgehog
la croquette = dry food, kibble
la baie vitrée = arcadia window, sliding glass door
le saumon = salmon
la patate = potato (in informal French)
le comptoir = counter
et voilà = and just like that
tchin-tchin! = cheers!
la paillote = wooden structure, hut (usually near a beach)
la fleur de courgette = zucchini flower
les accras = Caribbean fish fritters
la crevette = shrimp
un lecteur, une lectrice = reader
les éclats de rire = laughter
la bénédiction = blessing

Visiting Domaine du Paternel in Cassis

REMERCIEMENTS
Sincere thanks to the following readers who recently sent in a blog donation or purchased our online memoir. This truly is a reader-supported journal and I appreciate your help in publishing it week after week. Merci beaucoup! --Kristi

Al K.
Bob O.
Debra L.
Elaine M.
Cleeve C.
Marcia L
Jenean L.
Jeanne G.
C-Marie P.

And special thanks to Elizabeth and Victor for reserving a wine tour with Jean-Marc, and for your thoughtful note:
"All of us found both you and Jean-Marc to be just such a joy to be with... You are such a warm couple and both so good at your work and we love how you support each other. I love that both your jobs involve sharing your joie de vie and love for France and connecting with others."


Enjoying a wine-tasting at Chateau de Pibarnon in Bandol with Eric de St. Victor.

If anyone reading would like to reserve a wine tour with Jean-Marc, click here for more information

This hidden beach nestled beneath the cliff in Cassis is Plage du Corton. On the right, you can just glimpse la paillote where we ate lunch.

If you were to visit Jean-Marc's wine shop, what would you buy? Tell us your favorite wine, drink, or boisson in the comments section. It could make for a lively thread!

Today's Word: bredouille

    : empty-handed, unsuccessful

Audio/Listening: Click the link below to hear today's word + a dozen more vocabulary words. Next, scroll down to the vocabulary list to check your comprehension.

Sound File, click here

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse
"A Surprise Visit"

Following Sunday’s grasse matinée, I felt lazy and tempted to skip church. Maybe I could go with Jean-Marc to his wine shop instead? It would only be for 3 hours, given the store’s open from 10-1 le dimanche. And it would give us some time together. Allez! On y va!

Setting my coat and purse on the tasting table at Le Vin Sobre, I turned to peruse the small épicerie fine when I heard my husband say the very thing I was thinking: Help tidy the tea section? 

“Compte sur moi!”

After the teas were neatly line up I began to clean the glass windows behind which Jean-Marc stocks les produits frais:  la poutargue, la pata negra, les boquerones, les fromages… A woman, her young son and their spirited cocker spaniel blew into the boutique along with a few fall leaves. “Bonjour Monsieur. Auriez-vous un Chenin Blanc?”

After Jean-Marc had rung up his first sale of the day and the trio had left, he shut the cash drawer with a flourish. “Comme ça on ne sera pas bredouille.” 

“Bredouille? That sounds like a cool word . Répète-le.”

“J’ai dit, ‘comme ça on ne rentrera pas bredouille’.”

Ah! Now I wasn't leaving ‘empty-handed’ either! I was going home with a new expression to share with readers!”

Ah, quand on parle du loup! Just then, two Francophiles from Boise, Idaho walked in... Susan introduced herself as a reader of my blog. She and Larry were leaving their rental in Cassis, and heading north to the quaint village of Sablet. What a chance meeting this was on the very day I was ditching church.

“C’est une double coïncidence,” Jean-Marc smiled, “because we don’t always open on Sundays.” With that, on a fait connaissance. I leave you, dear reader, with a snapshot of our chanceux encounter. And a warm remerciement to Susan and Larry, for all the wine you purchased. Là c’est certain, on ne rentrera pas bredouille! 

***
Post note: I was going to use the phrase “speak of the devil” to segue into the final part of the story about when my readers appeared. But then, yikes! I didn’t want to inadvertently refer to “readers” (or to Susan and Larry) as les diables! That’s when I learned the popular idiom: Quand on parle du loup, on en voit la queue (when you speak of the wolf, you'll see his tail). It means when you speak of someone they will appear). 

A Wine Odyssey...
This fall marks the 2-year anniversary of Jean-Marc's wine shop. Bravo, Chief Grape! My husband has come a very long way in his wine journey. Read about the ups and downs in our memoir, The Lost Gardens. 

2007 at our first vineyard, "Chief Grape," who records all sound files for this blog. Merci, Chief!

FRENCH VOCABULARY
la grasse matinée = to sleep in
le dimanche = Sunday
Allez! On y va! = come on, let’s go!
l’épicerie fine = delicatessen
Compte sur moi! = count on me!
les produits frais (m) = fresh food, refrigerated foods
la poutargue = a culinary specialty of Martigues, known elsewhere as “bottarga” (salted, cured fish roe)
la pata negra (“patte noir”) = Iberian ham
les boquerones = anchovies
le fromage = cheese
Bonjour Monsieur, Auriez-vous un Chenin Blanc = hello sir. Do you have a Chenin Blanc
Comme ça on ne sera pas bredouille = now we won’t be going home empty-handed
Quand on parle du loup, on en voit sa queue = when you speak of the wolf, you'll see his tail. 
C’est une double coïncidence = it’s doubly coincidental
on a fait connaissance  = we got to know each other
chanceux (chanceuse) = lucky
le remerciement = thank-you

Kristi, Larry, Susan, and Chief Grape

Bon weekend à tous. Don't forget to list your favorite wine or boisson in the comments, below. Merci! 

This photo was taken on February 16th, at 3:21 p.m. in Sospel, France. Marveling at the heavenly ceiling and the mysteries beyond, I was unaware of a friend's passing on the very day.

ADIEU, HERM
I have been carefully collecting a list of interesting French words since the beginning of this month, in hopes of sharing them with you someday. I never imagined I would use them in a eulogy. Let's learn some vocabulary now while remembering an honored war veteran--and fellow desert rat (from Phoenix) whom many of you know from the comments section of this blog. 

"Une Lubie"
That's "hobby" in French. One of Herman Meyers's passions was la poésie. More than une lubie, poetry was a gift this 90-year-old outdoorsman and electrical engineer shared with the world. Right up to the end, Herm posted his poems on his blog Poems, Photos and Stuff and sent them privately to cheer up friends. He eventually collected his rhythmic verses into an anthology "that may leave you smiling, pull at your heartstrings and/or leave you in tears..."

"Flambant Neuf"
"Brand new"—Herm, who would have turned 91 on May 23, wasn’t flambant neuf. He would have had fun using the brand new term in a stanza. Most of his works were inspired by photos. His book is aptly named "Pic Poems and Stuff". Don't you just love the "and stuff" which hints at the author's way of not taking himself too seriously?

"Le Système D"
"Plan D"--I learned this term in the comments section of this blog (thanks Sheryl!). Jean-Marc tells me the D is for débrouiller which means to deal with it. How would Herm want us to deal with his departure? What is Plan D?!

"Zinguerie"
Plan D rhymes with zinguerie, a word I saw painted over a (plumbing?) shop while passing through Monaco last week. The term has something to do with zinc... which, come to think of it, is sort of the color of Ham Radio (OK, that was a stretch, but I'm determined to share the words, in the order in which I've learned them, into today's tribute. Hang on, it'll get more chanllenging soon!). Just to say Ham radio was an early passion of Herm's that eventually led to extensive radio school training with NATO in Fontainebleu, France!

"Péché Mignon"
Now there's a fun phrase meaning "guilty pleasure" and I have a hunch Herm would have incorporated this phrase in his picture poetry, where he shared his love of hiking, the Southwest, cowboy culture, friendship, family, service to others, and all creatures great and small to name a few. Perhaps one of Herm's guilty pleasures was repetition (mais bien sûr, he was un poète!); his favorite expression, shared now and again in the comments on my blog, was this gem:

C'est la vie, c'est la guere, c'est la pomme de terre!
(Literally: That's life, that's war, that's the potato!)
(Herm's translation: "Stuff happens!” Of course he’d say “stuff”! This poet wasn’t stuffy or smug!)

"Herm on his daily ride around the park" (title of an email he sent)

"C’est commode"
"It’s convenient"--In one of Herm's last emails of 2020, this passionate outdoorsman announced his hiking days were finito! From then on he rode, et c'était commode! Of course he "poemed" the news:

As time passes by for this aging man
I'll keep doing the exercises that I can
But, instead of the cross-country hiking
I'll stay active with my in-the-park triking

"Se Gâter"
"To take a turn for the worse"--I learned this reflexive verb while out on a walk with Jean-Marc. "Le temps se gâtent" he said, as the bright sky darkened. Returning home, I found an email from my friend Karen in Phoenix, who shared the news of Herm's passing. 

"Sans Déconner"
"No kidding" (Just a cool Southern French phrase you hear--even in Paris! It doesn't really fit in this section. But we're going to make it fit, just as Herm did with his rhyme gift.)

I received a courriel from Herm's wife, Sharron, who shared about Herm's joy reading my blog.  Sharron left me with a compliment as she signed off:

"I always fondly called you his "other girlfriend." Please share this with your mom, he was also a fan of hers too.”

"Frimer"
"To show off"--Because Herm didn't talk a lot about his service to the United States, let's show off for him here. In 2018, he was honored as a war veteran, and selected to go on the Honor Flight--an all-expenses-paid trip to see the Korean War Memorial in Washington D.C.

"La Pénurie"
"Shortage"--Now Herm has passed to the other side, the mysterious Ever After. Let us all make sure there are no shortage of words for our word wrangler to work with, as he writes his poetry from the hereafter, l'Au-delà.

Help honor Herm by sharing a favorite French word in the comments section just below. And share what town you are writing in from. Merci beaucoup (I have a feeling Herm would say Merci buckets.  He was comfortable enough with words to have fun with them :-) 

"La Houle"
Swell--That's "swell" as in "ocean waves" but it may as well mean swelled or swollen hearts. To Herm's wife, Sharron, his 3 adult boys, Brien, Craig, and Neal, and to all who love him, our collective hearts go out to you. May the favorite French words that follow in the comments, send waves of comfort your way.

Tu vas me manquer. I am going to miss you, Herman Meyer! Sans déconner!

Signed, 
"Your Other Girlfriend"

Read more about Herm on his blog and his book of "pic poetry" Photo: Herm leads a group of Francophiles at a meetup in Phoenix, in 2011. That story here.

With this flower, called Love in a Mist, we shower the Glen family with our support. May today's words speak for all of us here--all who have followed Tanya's story of the search for her Mom. Missing for five days, Mary Glen was found Wednesday night, having passed away.

le souvenir de temps heureux

    : the memory of happy times


Lettre de Condoléances pour la famille Glen
Sympathy Letter for the Glen family

Dear Tanya and family, 

Words fail to express what complete strangers, as well as those closest to you, are feeling right now for your dear family. Tanya, you introduced yourself in a letter, over a year ago, telling me you had married a Frenchman and were planning on coming to France. You didn't speak French and needed help expressing yourself in another language. Someone (Sandy? Monique?) told you about my language blog.

I may have told you then to rest assured, you are in good company: that made at least two of us who struggled to speak French! And today, having woken up to news about your Mom's passing, I struggle even to speak English.

It was another reader--Trina--who emailed me the news this morning. Like many, she did not know you personally, but the moment she read your story she was with you, avec coeur. Trina writes:

My heart goes out to all of you, to Mary's friends and family. You are all in my prayers.  

Still unsure of what to say at this heartbreaking time, I will use Trina's example. And gathering everyone near--all who are reading--we will borrow words from the French and do our best to comfort you, showering you with our collective sympathies. With hopes that the pain you are feeling will ease, petit à petit, and that you will bravely continue on with your petite et adorable famille, the one you have recently founded. And may your proud father and loving sister be by your side and you by their side, for the remainder of this life. 

Mary Glen, left. Tanya, right, with her father. Kassi, Tanya's sister is in blue. Photo credit: Rebecca Dever at www.charmingphoto.com

May memories of your dear Mom carry you gently forward to France and beyond. Wherever you go, your Maman is in your heart. And we thank you for putting her in our own hearts, too. What a privilege to have met your Mom via your photos and words; what a joy to have learned about Mary Glen "the most loving person you could ever meet."

The above words were your own, Tanya, and here are the French words I promised. I will do my best to translate them, but remember, I struggle along with you in this "language of love." Oui, amour éternel, just like a mother's love.

And now--

Que le souvenir de temps heureux vous aide à supporter cette pénible épreuve. Sachez que votre peine est comprise et partagée par ceux qui vous aiment.

May the memories of happy times help you through this painful hardship. Know that your pain is felt and shared by those who love you.

Amicalement,
Kristin and friends here at French Word-A-Day

To the Glen family: Every bud on the sunflowers and every blossom on the bougainvillea reaching all the way to the heavens represents our collective faces here in this language community. You don't know us but we stand facing you at this difficult time, extending our support and offering our respect in memory of the beloved and beautiful Mary Glen.

A reader's Mom has gone missing. With your attention we may be able to help Tanya and her family reunite with their loved one, Mary Glen. Photo taken yesterday, after the sunflower harvest. The drying seeds, little messengers of hope, will soon be on their way to the Phoenix desert.

Three French words and their meanings, just below:

disparu / appel à témoins / avis de recherche

    : missing / seeking witnesses / missing person notice

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

Last night, while reading my Facebook feed, I noticed this heartbreaking post from a reader of my blog. Tanya writes:

Laying here in my parents living room along with my sister, brother and SIL. I can't believe my mom is still missing. The hardest part is not knowing where she is. I pray she is in a hospital as a Jane Doe and not stranded in the hot desert without water, lost and confused. How can this happen?

      photo of Mary Glen

I could only imagine the torture Tanya's family was going through, having recently gone through a similar scare. Only, my own Mom was missing for a matter of hours. For Tanya's family, the agony has gone on for nearly three days now.

           Mary Glen, pictured left, and family.

Since seeing Tanya's Facebook post--and the AVIS DE RECHERCHE or missing person's notice she posted (click here to see it), I can't stop thinking about Mary Glen. Just moments ago, while typing this post, I noticed a tip was posted on the page--someone may have seen Mary Glen yesterday:

Tina writes:

I'm pretty sure I saw her downtown at Central & Washington at the bus area. She asked me for some change, but I didn't have any, nor realize she was missing until a few hrs later until I saw it on FB. This was at around 3:15pm.

This just goes to show the power of getting the word out and of keeping the faith. According to that post, Mary Glen would have been seen at 3:15pm on Monday--nearly two days after her disappearance! 

Please help Tanya and her family and help get the word out. Do you live in Phoenix or  do you know anyone who lives in Phoenix? You can forward the Missing Persons page (see it here) or this post to your friends.

Via Twitter, or other social media sites, you may post a message and this link: https://www.facebook.com/MaryMomGlen

Do not underestimate the effect your gesture will have on helping to bring Mary Glen home to her loved ones.

     
   Mary Glen and her dear husband

If you live in Phoenix, please talk to your neighbors, shopkeepers, gas station attendants--anyone at all with whom you can share this missing persons report. Get the word out!

Anyone with information on Mary Glen can call the Phoenix Police Department Missing Persons Unit at (602) 534-2121 or email [email protected] 

For the latest tips you may follow the Facebook page that Tanya made for her Mom, here at Where is Mary Glen? You will also find a helpful post, by Mary Glen's other daughter, Kassi: Lessons this difficult experience has taught their family (a must read for anyone who knows someone with dementia or Alzheimer's).

Thank you so much for your help and prayers and positive thoughts for Mary Glen. And to Tanya's family: keep the faith!

More seeds of hope for the Glen family. Photo taken in Camaret-sur-Argens

A close-up of Mary Glen. Her family writes:

Mary is the most loving person you could ever meet. Really. She would give the shirt off her back to help you when you need it. She has the biggest heart you could ever imagine ...Please keep Mary Glen in your prayers and thank you all for your support.

If you have any tips please call the Phoenix Police Department Missing Persons Unit at (602) 534-2121 or email [email protected] 

For the latest tips you may follow the Facebook page that Tanya made for her Mom, here at Where is Mary Glen?


"Avis de recherche", or Mary Glen's missing persons notice. Notice more helpful information, such as the fact that Mary wears glasses. Her age and height are noted here.

Help spread the word. All information or tips to:

• (602) 534-2121 or email
• [email protected]
  

"God is love," I would say. "Dog is love," Bill would suggest. Today, read about my invisible editor, who passed away suddenly. We didn't always agree, but otherwise got along grammar-warily. Photo of my dog Smokey and his mama, Brez.

hommage (m) 

    : tribute

présenter ses hommages = to pay one's respects
en hommage de reconnaissance = as a token of gratitude

Exclusive French made clothes now available to purchase on-line. Thomas Hulston Collections.

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

William Myers has passed away. You may not have known him but, if you have a minute, I'll tell you about the man who taught me "mom" is spelled with a lower case "m" (...sometimes, anyway).

This was but one of our disagreements. But who was I to argue with the Grammar King? Mostly, I kept opinions to myself, firing off a quick Thanks! Edits all in now! each time Bill responded to my newsletters. And he responded to every single one of them since signing on, sometime in 2006.

One day I noticed the cc line in Bill's emails. Who were all those people to whom (yes, to whom, Bill would say) Bill was copying his edits of my newsletter? Some sort of editorial team? 

Soon I got a letter from another blogger. "Hey," he said, "how do you know Bill? Just wondering, cuz this guy just started correcting my posts!"

I recognized the blogger's address from the cc line of those edits Bill was sending me.

Soon after, my own address stood out in the cc line. This time the edits were directed to Anu Garg! Oh no! I didn't want The Wordsmith to associate me with the grammar police and The Accidental Grammar Posse. (Posse? I began to assume the other "cc's" were random writers in cyberspace, all of us rounded up to witness the latest grammar assault! The streak of light connecting our "dots" (or misplaced commas) was a certain Willam Myers. Who was this man?

                                            The Grammar King.

In the 8 years since Bill began crossing my t's, I gathered bits and pieces of his colorful personality. I wish I could share them all, but here are just a few:

Openminded for one!
It was odd (and finally amusing) how Bill would end his proper English grammar corrections with a string of street slang or rap. (I should search my inbox for an example of Bill's colorful lingo, but given there are 1000s of emails from him, the task would be overwhelming!)

1000s of emails from Bill
Bill, I gathered, was a compulsive correspondant and internet surfer. He collected email addresses to such an extent that I once heard an isolated French wine farmer ask: Who eez zis 'Beel'? The vigneron in question was briefly mentioned in one of my stories. But he was not overlooked by Bill, who tracked him down and nearly cc'd him--along with the rest of us!

Cynical? Playful?
Bill corrected my grammar with a slap-of-the hand voice: "No, Dummy! It's 'its' not 'it's'! he would scold, in 16pt and in red or purple or green (and not "red, or purple, or green"--notice the commas. Bill would have!)

In His Own Words
"I'm a lapsed Catholic & retired lawyer."

Animal Lover
In a recent email to my mom (small "m")--another character he'd tracked down and cc'd--Bill wrote, "I have long had a big thing for homeless animals. I have rescued & been honored & blessed by: Angie, Lacey, Honey, Snowflake and Kabuke...."

Apparently, when Bill wasn't rescuing apostrophes, he turned his attention to misplaced cats and dogs.

Thoughtful
That recent email to Mom (capital "m" this time) was, little did we know, his last to her. It included a long rant about the scandalous and exhorbitant price of medication. Bill was desperate to share some price-saving tips: "It will surely reward your dear husband," Bill wrote, "to investigate the deals at Robinhood Family Pharmacy..."

Mom thanked Bill for his note, so touched that he would think of her. Next, she added:

"You have been such a BIG influence on Kristi and her writing all of these years, I do hope you know how much you are appreciated."

How serendipitous Mom's note would be. In it, she managed to thank Bill for me, as I would not get the chance to....

Alone
John, a close friend of Bill's wrote to me. "I wanted to let you know that Bill Myers has died.  I know he so enjoyed his correspondence with you and that it gave him much pleasure as he was increasingly confined.  Thank you so much for you kindness."

Loved
I recognized John's email from the mile-long cc lines on Bill's earlier notes. I realized, then, not all of the grammar posse were strangers.... Some were very dear to Bill.

*    *    *

Walking my dog through the forest, a tear streams down my face for a stranger I met in cyberspace. It was too late, now, to thank him properly. (Thank God Mom had followed her instincts, praising him affectionately!) 

Smokey tugged at his leash, pulling me forward along the path. How odd it was to be so touched by someone you'd never touched. Through watery eyes I looked around at the blurry forest when suddenly the tree bark came into focus... and then my dear dog's glossy coat, and then the ground beneath my feet. I once read a book about God. And the words come back to me now, in a new light, a light shining on the objects all around me:

I am the bark... I am the fur... I am the pebbles...

As I listened to the voice in my head define God, I pulled a piece of perforated tissue out of my pocket, to wipe my eyes. 

I am the tears... I am the toilet paper that dries them...

I laughed at the voice, which spoke the truth, with humor. It told me, finally, who Bill was. Like each and everyone of us, he is love.

Looking around now, at the tree bark, my dog's fur, the goosebumps on my body, I see it all so differently. I take a deep breath and breathe out to a deeper calm. Life goes on and on.

Comments
To respond to this story, click here.

Provence Dreamin'? Maison des Pelerins, Sablet. A Vacation Rental Dream in the heart of the Côte du Rhone. See photos here. 

A photo Bill would have appreciated

And another (of Smokey)

And another, of the blogger he helped for all those years. We had in common a love of language and animals. Thank you, Bill, for helping me cross my t's. When you don't write back today, I'm going to notice. Then I'll go out and notice the bark, Smokey's fur, and the pebbles beneath our feet.

To respond to this post, click here. Edits welcome, too....

Bon voyage, chère Mélo. If you only knew how much you meant to me--je te garderai dans mon coeur pour toujours.

Our dear friend and fellow Francophile, Mélanie, passed away September 23rd after surviving 18 years with the neurodegenerative disease known as ALS. Melanie will be honored in a ceremony on Monday. In case, like me, you struggle to find words to comfort a family in mourning here below is some encouragement--follow your heart.

le réconfort (ray-cohn-for)

    : comfort, reassurance

Audio File: Listen to Jean-Marc Download MP3 or Wav file

L’étiquette funéraire est simple; écoutez votre coeur. Observez ceux et celles laissés dans le deuil et offrez votre soutien et réconfort avec des paroles, des mots et des gestes du cœur pour témoigner de votre amour, respect ou sympathie. Funeral etiquette is simple: listen to your heart. Observe those who are mourning and offer support and comfort with words, words and heartfelt gestures to show your love, respect, and sympathy.  -from Etiquette Julie, in Quoi dire ou faire en temps de deuil "What to do or Say in time of Mourning"

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... by Kristin Espinasse

Yesterday morning I woke up with fresh hope. It may have been a result of the strange and cathartic moment from the day before, when my husband surprised me on our anniversary. The outpouring of tears, and the intense emotion accompanying it, had felt, mysteriously, like mourning--and yet it was one of the happiest moments of our married life.

The release left me with a clear and positive mind as I sat down to another day of work as a self-appointed journalist. I've never managed to land a gig at the New York Times and publishing houses aren't exactly beating down my door, but one never knows when years of practice will pay off again!

The thought suddenly hit me: maybe today good news will come my way? In the eleven years since fueling this online journal, I've received a handful of life-changing propositions in response to it. There was the day when I clicked open my inbox and discovered an email from Simon and Schuster (a publishing contract followed!), then the chance to speak at the historical Parisian bookshop Shakespeare and Company, and recently, I was invited to join the editorial team at France Today magazine: they offered me the backpage column "Le Dernier Mot"! 

And who knew what could come next, when, against all doubts and the condemning voices in your head, you continued to follow your dreams? But first things first--no matter the hurdles overcome, you've gotta continue to do the work. And so, with a rare peace, I settled into another session of writing. At the end of the day, I checked my inbox. And there I discovered one of those life-changing, heart-thumping letters--only not the kind I had hoped for.

The email's subject line read "A farewell from Melanie"....

Mélanie! No......... I sat there with my hand clamped over my mouth. The news was so unexpected, and yet.... she had already beaten the odds by 16 years--living almost two decades with a debilitating disease.

*    *    *

I met Melanie in 2008 through my online blog, French Word-A-Day. Her first note to me came after a serendipitous coincidence (were the previous two words an oxymoron? Melanie would know--she was so curious and had a love of language! In fact, she had been looking up the word "insouciance" when--poof!--my mot-du-jour newsletter appeared in her inbox). The word of the day was souci. 

Dear Kristin, I have been intending for quite some time to tell you how much I enjoy receiving your email.  Many things you’ve written have struck a common cord with me, but when I saw that you had posted the word souci, I knew I could put it off no longer.

Melanie added, almost as a post note, a modest word about herself:

Thank you for all you do!  I love escaping to Provence through your adventures. I now have ALS or Motor Neuron Disease so typing takes time and energy but one day soon I hope to send you a message about my experience in Provence and other connections I have had to what you have written. 

I had goosebumps reading Melanie's letter and immediately looked up ALS, learning the heartbreaking reality of a horrible illness also known as Lou Gehrig's disease. Most people die within two years of coming down with ALS, or amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

There began a tender correspondence. One hundred and two precious exchanges (including the comments Melanie left at my blog). Piecing together her letters and friending Melanie on Facebook, I learned a little, each time, about this beautiful, athletic, and funloving character who one day, at the age of 30, had the wind knocked right out of her sails.

In 1995 on returning from France--where she had passed the most exhilarating and inspiring time of her life--Melanie was diagnosed with motor neuron disease.

It was difficult to believe, even for the friends she would later meet. Poring over her Facebook photos, taken before she learned the news, I witnessed her joy via the scenes of her European adventure: there was Melanie, kicking up her boots on the dance floor, and there she was in Cannes, all dolled up (I wrote to her asking if she modeled, but she quickly downplayed her God-given beauty: "You are too kind!" she wrote, immediately changing the subject).

If I were a talent scout, I'd have snapped up this beauty, illico -- in no time at all!

There were photos of Melanie hiking in Porquerolles, clinking champagne flutes in Venice, and--was that a yacht she was on? I was fascinated by her adventures, lived with verve and a very sweet heart....

Melanie told me that she loved hearts--collected them (notice the belt), but she admitted that her illness prevented her from sharing her life with someone. I pictured her in her wheel chair, years after this photo was taken. At the time she had no idea that on her return she would be diagnosed with an incurable disease. But her idealism, which she hinted at in one of her letters, had her beating the odds. More than the 2 years that ALS patients are given, Melanie lived 18 years with ALS.

As I got to know Melanie through her photos and brief notes, I could not help but imagine that once upon a time--with a Eurail pass and backpacks on our backs--we would have made wonderful complices, or partners in crime! She'd be the daring one, and I'd gladly tag along--sharing her zest for life, my own world brightened by her shining light.

"I think we have a lot in common," Melanie said one day, responding to one of my blog stories. What a compliment! The validation that we would have indeed been giggly complices in France--where we would have pinched ourselves again and again, unbelieving of our lucky stars that have sent us there, delighted me.

Moi--Kristin. Melanie's would-be accomplice--only pretending to be as adventurous as she!

 But such correspondence--indeed, such dreams--were limited. The truth was, owing to an illness that robbed her of her strength to eat or even type, Melanie grew weaker by the day. She had, so far, beat the odds--having suffered 16-years from the disease, though she never complained but remained a smiling inspiration to all who knew her. Yet I sensed moments when her bravery waned. Melanie once responded to a post I wrote, "Brebis", about a lonely shepherd. The last lines of the story moved her:

...Little did the berger know—and little do we all know—that out there, somewhere, someone is trying to comfort us without our even knowing....

"Your last thought was so touching," wrote Melanie, in the comments section of my blog. She went on to admit, "It warms my heart to think that it is so."

I, too, find comfort in the thought that out there, somewhere, someone is trying to comfort us, without our even knowing. And those lines, intended for my brave friend, were the closest I ever came to telling Melanie how much I thought of her and her bravery.

Around 2011, Melanie could no longer swallow. One day, in 2012, she wrote in, responding to this post on GMOs, encouraging me to continue to eat healthfully--no genetically modified foods! Melanie then shared with me her fondness for cuisine and how she had loved living in Chicago and DC, "both great cities for culinary diversity." She went on to say that in the past two years, because of her condition, she could no longer eat whole foods. Melanie had gracefully accepted yet another new fate: Ensure.

And yet, despite the liquid nourishment that she now received, she continued to enjoy reading about food--even her inner foodie (I loved it when she called herself this--a foodie!) could not be brought down by a heartless disease. She would have, with sincerity, wished all gourmands bon appetit! And Melanie's message was clear: we must all continue to enjoy life's bounty.

In our 5 year virtual friendship, Melanie encouraged me to continue to write freely and with an open heart and, little did she know, she carried me through my bout with skin cancer.

"Bon courage," she wrote, after a particularly invasive operation on my forehead. But how could I be anything but grateful, compared to my friend, who probably could not even speak (I never had the chance to hear her voice). Melanie would have traded places with me in an instant, wearing my dreaded scar like a rock star!  (On second thought, Melanie would not have traded places with anybody, but she bravely endured her cross.)

As I sat there with my hand cupped over my mouth, reading the farewell message sent from Melanie's family and remembering our delicate friendship (I never managed to tell Melanie just how much I loved her. I never did dare say Please, tell me all of your fears--lean on me! No, I was too afraid of somehow putting my foot in my mouth. I kept thinking my words might come off as pitying. So we wrote about other things, including coincidence--something that fascinated Melanie.

Coincidence! Yes!.... I remembered back to my cathartic moment at the lunch table, when my outpouring of tears felt strangely like mourning. And the heaving that accompanied them... and the bittersweat sadness that my happiness felt like... 

Jean-Marc! I said. (My husband sat beside me as I learned the news of Melanie.) "Jean-Marc! Remember when we were sitting at the table, just before I began to cry... just moments before I felt this sharp tug in my left hand." I looked at my palm, there, beside my thumb--where an insistant pinching caught all of my attention....  Pinch, pinch pinch. Pinch, pinch, pinch! I had thought it was a muscle spasm, but, looking down at my hand, I saw nothing...

But, at that very moment, before even knowing she had passed away, I thought of Melanie. 

*    *    *

I can see us now, together in France, me and my would-be complice. France, the only other place besides Heaven, that we'd rather be. The only place that we'd once again pinch ourselves on arriving. Can you believe it? Pinch, pinch, pinch--I'm here! 

I look down at my hand, amazed. I "heard" you, Mélanie! I heard you! I'm shaking now, those tears are back, rolling down my face drowning my keyboard. I believe. I believe. Bless your heart, thank you, Melanie--I believe!

*    *    * 

One of my favorite pictures of Melanie. Thank you Wendy, Melanie's sister, for permission to post these photos. Our hearts go out to Melanie's dear family.

 To comment, please click here.

Walk to defeat ALS - each September Melanie encouraged friends and family to support the ongoing search for a cure for Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). Her last wish was that in lieu of flowers at her memorial, donations be made to a cause she fought for with grace and determination. The week before she died I received this last message from Mélo in my inbox.

It must be September because I am sending out my letter for the Walk to Defeat ALS. The ALS Association funds vital research for possible treatments and a cure. The money raised also provides for patient services like assistive technology, guidance from an amazing staff, and equipment loan closet which have been so helpful to me all along from the time I was diagnosed to now, 18 years later.  Here are some numbers: Approximately 5,600 people in the U.S. are diagnosed with ALS each year. It is estimated that as many as 30,000 Americans may have the disease at any given time. Most patients survive only 2-5 years.   Please make a donation to help support all that the ALS Association does. Thank you so very much!!!

Melanie once wrote to me, pointing out another thing we had in common: the love of the famous prayer by St. Francis of Assisi. 

"Most mornings, as I lay in bed waiting for my help," she shared, "I say the prayer by Saint Francis of Assisi. I was thrilled when you posted it in French and immediately memorized it and now recite it en francais."

This is for you, chère Mélo:

St. Francis of Assisi's Prayer
Audio File: (Hear 16-year-old, Jackie, recite the poem below in French: Download MP3 Prayer-st-francis or Download Wav file

Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de votre paix.
Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l'amour.
Là où il y a l'offense, que je mette le pardon.
Là où il y a la discorde, que je mette l'union.
Là où il y a l'erreur, que je mette la vérité.
Là où il y a le doute, que je mette la foi.
Là où il y a le désespoir, que je mette l'espérance.
Là où il y a les ténèbres, que je mette votre lumière.
Là où il y a la tristesse, que je mette la joie.

Ô Maître, que je ne cherche pas tant à être consolé qu'à consoler, à être compris qu'à comprendre, à être aimé qu'à aimer, car c'est en donnant qu'on reçoit, c'est en s'oubliant qu'on trouve, c'est en pardonnant qu'on est pardonné, c'est en mourant qu'on ressuscite à l'éternelle vie.

                              *     *     *
  Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
  Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
  Where there is injury, let me sow pardon;
  Where there is discord, let me sow harmony;
  Where there is error, let me sow truth;
  Where there is doubt, let me sow faith;
  Where there is despair, let me sow hope;
  Where there is darkness, let me sow light;
  And where there is sadness, let me sow joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in forgetting ourselves that we find, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

A Francophile might like this book cover, and a foodie or kid-at-heart might enjoy the content. Read the reviews for Fanny at Chez Panisse here. Meantime, learn about another panisse in today's column, a tribute to Gus Elison!

Bonnes résolutions du Nouvel An

    : new year's resolutions

Audio File: our son, Max, just woke up and I talked him into helping me record today's sound file (after my own attempt to pronounce the French words might have misled a language learner! Listen to 17-year-old Max: Download MP3 or Wave file
 
(Did you want to hear my version? You did didn't you?: Download MP3 or Download Wav)

Quelles sont vos bonnes résolutions du Nouvel An?
What are your new year's resolutions? 

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... by Kristin Espinasse

I did not plan on making a list of new year's resolutions until, tout naturellement, a list began to form....

More Deep Belly Laughter

It was while stumbling onto a video that made my sides split with laughter that I realized DAILY LAUGHTER was a perfect goal. To fully appreciate the video, you'd have to be someone who, like me, got a little freaked out about GMOs last year, had a health scare/surgical snafu and decided to learn more about raw foods, followed a few too many juice guru videos... and ended up able to laugh about it all (...and still make le jus vert for Jean-Marc and myself each morning!)

Goal Number 2 Trust Your inner cuistot! 

Then, yesterday, New Year's Day, I set out to make the chickpea flour-based "winter farinata" (La Cucina di Terresa's) when a change of plans led to an innovative, au pif moment... and I began to accidentally make a southern French savory side dish: les panisses! I'll be frying those up for Max and me at lunchtime (tant pis for Jean-Marc and Jackie, who are away!), and may share the recipe (or a video?). I've got some leftover salmon that I'll spread on top, and some miam miam good confiture d'oignon that a lovely teacher, Youlia, from the Ukraine, offered me on New Year's eve (she had spread her homemade onion jam on top of foie gras, for a sweet/savory combination). 

Goal Three: Bring Joy into another's Life

The most recent new year's goal came after receiving this touching letter, from a reader's daughter:

Dear Kristin,

We both admire a special man. His name is Gus Elison, he is my Dad. On January 2, 1925 he became the oldest of three children. Because of the economy and being so close to Christmas, Dad never had a real Birthday Party. That is until 2013. Kristin, you have meant the world to my Dad, will you help me with a request to have Birthday Wishes from around the world? 

Dad means the world to me, and he is that rare breed of man that has made this world a better place.

Thank you for bringing joy into his life,

Mary Gotz

***
Thank you, Mary, for letting us know about Gus's 88th birthday today. Bon anniversaire, Gus!

To anyone reading, please join me now in sending greetings and birthday wishes to this venerable member of our French Word-A-Day family: Gus Elison.

Click here to write your birthday wishes to Gus in the comments box.

More about Gus:

=> We first learned about Gus after my mom selected him among nearly 2000 entrants for the antique key giveaway. Do not miss both Mom's and Gus's (original comment) here

=> Next, we met his lovely French wife, Paulette, and saw these photos.

=> What a surprise when Gus and Paulette came to visit me in France, and introduced us to the beautiful Jeanne.

=> Another member of our French Word-A-Day family, Herm, wrote a special poem for Gus. Herm, if you are reading, could you please post that poem in the comments box?

Thanks again for leaving Gus Elison a birthday wish. Click here to share your message. 

FRENCH VOCABULARY

tout naturellement = very naturally

le jus vert = green juice 

le cuistot = a cook

au pif = to cook by guesswork (pif = slang for "nose"), to eyeball it (when measuring), to play it by ear

tant pis = too bad, tough luck! 

miam miam = yum yum

la confiture d'oignon = onion jam

bon anniversaire, or "bon anniv" for short :-) = happy birthday

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Thanks for sharing French Word-A-Day with a friend, classmate, teacher, family member or anyone who loves France!

Hats off to readers! Each chapeau represents the original character of those who read this blog-newsletter. Which hat are you? (I think I'm that gray one, upper right. Although, lately, I appreciate the two-tone blue one--needed sun protection!!--over there on the upper left). In today's story--meet a few of these unique personnages... and enjoy the unlikely story of their "retrouvailles"! 

Meet with Jean-Marc this month--in Brooklyn or Manhattan-- during his 2012 USA wine tour: click here to see all the cities Chief Grape will be visiting

retrouvailles nfpl

    : reunion, reunification

la retrouvaille = finding again, meeting again, getting back together

Audio File: listen to Jean-Marc read the following sentence: Download MP3 or Wav file

Aujourd'hui, lisons "Les Retrouvailles" une belle histoire de deux amies d'enfance qui se retrouvent en ligne, sur ce blog.... Today, let's read "Les Retrouvailles"--a beautiful story about two childhood friends who reunite online, on this blog...

"LES RETROUVAILLES"

This is the story of Julianna Palazzolo and Sandy Zeoli, the two friends who reconnected through "French Word-A-Day"....

__________________________________

Time: mid to late 1950's

Place: Northern New Jersey, not far from New York City

Dramatis personae: Sandy Y and Julie P

Things to keep in mind: both girls had unusual last names

Julie and Sandy were friends and classmates at the Thomas A. Edison school. Both liked to write short stories. Julie's were much better (Sandy thought that then and still thinks it now). We went to each other's houses all the time, went to each other's birthday parties, and were good friends.

Julie (pictured, left) moved away to Michigan. She and Sandy lost contact, although Sandy thought about her on and off and wondered where she was. Occasionally if she were traveling, she would check phone books for Julie's last name. Sometimes there was a name that was close, but not the same. Or, right last name, but father's first name didn't match.

Sandy (pictured, right) grew up and continued living in the same town. Got married, had a child, divorced, remarried, but lived in the same town.

From Michigan, Julie moved throughout the country, married and divorced twice but never had children, settling finally in the American Southwest.

One day in the summer of 2010, Sandy went to the local library and found a book called Words in a French Life. Having studied French in high school and college, she picked up the book and loved it. She saw the author had an email newsletter and signed up for it in July 2010 (Sandy checked her email file, as she has saved all the emails Kristin has sent since she signed up for it). As a bonus, she also searched and found other Foreign Language "Word-A-Day" emails, as Sandy loves learning new languages. Hoping someday to go to Greece and read and understand a little, she has taught herself some Greek and now receives a Greek Word A Day email.

But, back to our story. In late 2011 Kristin Espinasse, the American woman who fell in love with French, France, and stayed there to marry a French man and raise her children there, and who writes of her life in the "French Word A Day" email decided to take up the challenge to self-publish another collection of her letters on life in France.

Book is published. Sandy buys a copy. Reads through the various stories and then glances at the "thank you's" at the beginning of the book. One name immediately jumps off the page. There can't be 2 people called Julie P. The last name is just too unusual.

So, Sandy writes to Kristin, tells her that she thinks it might be her long lost friend, specifically mentions her (Sandy's) maiden name, and other info only Julie would know and asks if Kristin could pass on the info to Julie. A day passes and an email comes from Julie P entitled "C'est moi!"


We are now catching up on our separate lives and maybe one day soon we will be able to get together in person and share some stories.

Our thanks to Kristin for being the matchmaker. And, in a very modest way, to the Internet, which allows old friends to connect once again, but without the shared interest in French, etc. and Kristin, in particular, would never have happened.

Comments Corner
I would love to read your reaction to this wonderful "retrouvaille"--or maybe you have a story to share? You can leave a note in the comments box. 

A note about the previous two photos: I had some technical difficulties uploading these images, which were also a bit small. (By the way, that's Sandy, upper right, and Julie, right). Perhaps we'll have the lucky chance to update this post... when Sandy and Julie finally meet up again in person! Fingers crossed.

***

French Vocabulary

le chapeau = hat

    le chapeau de soleil = sunhat

le personnage = character (in play)

les retrouvailles = reunion

c'est moi = it's me!

"Les Retrouvailles" (homecoming). Click to enlarge this jubilant image! This photo is two years old. It was taken when Smokey returned, supercharged and satisfied, from "Camp Sully" in Vaison-La-Romaine. Witness here Smokey and Chief Grape... and their joyful reunion! Mille mercis to Mark and Ellen for taking such good care of Smokey and Braise!

 Reader Grammar Tips (gleaned from the comments box!)

I was grateful to learn a helpful French pronunciation tip... after reading the recent reader comments (about, of all things, How Not To Do Laundry like the French). Thanks, Jim, for the educational pause... during the heated debate about whether to include socks with bras. (Come to think of it, while some of us don't wash socks with bras, we might have worn them together at one point... Sorry for getting off topic again!)

"French: An Open-Syllable Language"

Jim writes:

I'd like to comment on the pronunciation given for "bâcler." You wrote it as "bak-lay." Please forgive me for my narrow focus, but the correct form is "ba-klay." Unlike English, French is an open-syllable language, where a syllable ends in a vowel whenever possible. Most Americans fail to pronounce "he is" correctly in French. A native speaker always says "ee-lay" but most Anglophones say "eel-ay" which is incorrect. I know I sound like a cranky retired French prof, but I do think the basic linguistic distinction is important.

Thanks, Jim Herlan

Leaving France behind... in the following edition. Picture taken near Sablet and Gigondas (that's Mont Ventoux in the background); today's photo may as well be titled "How to Keep Your Roof on in the Windy Vaucluse". (Squint your eyes in time to see the rocks that are holding down the roof tuiles...)

une randonnée (ran doh nay)

    : walk, ride, outing, excursion

une randonnée à pied = hike
la randonnée = hiking
le randonneur, la randonneuse = hiker

Audio File:  Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce these French words Download MP3 or Wav

Le mois dernier, nous avons fait une longue randonnée dans le désert. Last month we had a long hike in the desert.

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

Note to newsletter readers: the underlined words in the following text correspond to stories from the archive. Click on the words to read the passages.

Last month I visited family in Mexico and in Arizona and, in both countries, I had the chance to meet up with readers of this blog. The friends in Mexico taught me restaurant etiquette, or "How To Send Back an Order!"(simply complain: "These eggs are as cold as a dead man's butt!"). So far I haven't had the occasion to use the insult. Maybe you have?

Meantime, no dead butts in Arizona... where we busted ours for an early morning randonnée. The pressure was off from the get-go (the theme of the meet-up was The Horizontal Hike...)  and we walked slow enough to sip coffee as we strolled. I leave you with those photos...

One last cuppa before heading to the trail... from left to right: that's Herm, Naoma, Sharron (Herm's wife), Lynn, and Judy.   

From left to right: Rita, my sister Heidi, Karen, and Susan.

 Judy, Ann, and Gaelle, whom I kept calling "Susan". Now I'm having doubts about "Ann", whose name I may be mistaking...

Chasing our shadows into the desert... In the lead, that's Gabriel, his sister Monet (left) and their mom Ronnie (behind Gabriel). C'est moi, to the right, in the beige pants.

These three to the right (Ronnie, Heidi, and Karen) were focusing in on the baby coyotes that barked or howled or yelped (???) excitedly up the hill.

 

This is Randy, who drove over from Cave Creek, AZ. I informed him of my short-lived waitressing job in Cave Creek (in a former life in the desert...). Randy had never heard of "The Desert Deli" and I began to wonder whether it was all a dream... one great mirage!

Stone Sculpture... Those Palo Verde branches are tickling the têtes of Ronnie, Monet, and Gabriel. Can you hear them giggling?

These two desert dwellers belong to Lynn (that's her husband, left) and Ronnie (that's her son, Gabriel, right)...

 
There's Lynn and her husband. And that's Ann (I think...), right. "Ann" didn't sign my guest book (or did she?). Now I'm having doubts...

There's You Know Who... and that's my sister, Heidi. Cute photo, non? I wished I had on what my sister had on (don't we always?) but my legs were "blanc comme un cachet d'aspirine" or white as a pill, so it was "no deal".

And this is Karen, left, who, along with Herm, made this French meet-up possible! Many thanks again to Herm and to Karen for everything. (And thanks, Karen, for the lovely scarf! It has that European elegance... yet there's a certain Aztec flair!)

 
This is Herm, whom you may know from the comments box. He occasionally shares a poem with us there. This time he shared one with me, here, as a souvenir of our Horizontal Hike. I had the chance to meet many of the "characters" in the following poem.  Herm writes:

Welcome to my space on the planet
in a secluded wash just off the trail
Join in with my friends... The critters,
singing birds and a few colorful quail

With Palo Verde trees on both sides,
It's a pleasantly cool and shady spot
Especially good in the midst of summer
when the dry winds blow un-Godly hot

Occasionally someone on their daily
hike will leave the trail to take a peek
At the rare saguaro cactus down in the
wash, a one of a kind, said to be unique

The excitement, the wonder in their eyes
and, oh, the surprised look on the face
they stand in awe... they can't believe
Siamese twins; bodies joined at the base.

--Poem by Herm Meyer
. 

Thank you, Herm, for sending in this photo. Herm writes: Here's a photograph of a photographer photographing a photographer photographing a Stone Sculpture.....