French Word-A-Day

trouver

Cardère and Salicaire near Montmirail -- not far from the town of Vacqueyras.

trouver (troo-vay) verb
    : to find

Je ne cherche pas. Je trouve.
I do not seek. I find. --Pablo Picasso

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Audio File: listen to my son, Max, pronounce today's word. Also, hear the verb's conjugation -- followed by the above quote: Download trouver.mp3 . Download trouver.wav

Verb conjugation:
je trouve, tu trouves, il/elle trouve, nous trouvons, vous trouvez, ils/elles trouvent (trouvé)

Tune Up Your French: Top 10 Ways to Improve Your Spoken French



As if by coincidence, prize-worthy plants are popping up all over the French countryside... ever since I began botanical lessons with an herbal Don Juan.* How is it that the very plants that we are studying are suddenly sporting themselves just outside my front door, there, where they've never grown before?

Or have they?

Knee-deep in a scratchy field of shrubs and weeds I wonder: how could I have ever missed these lavender beauties? Cardère, or "Wild teasel", scatters itself not far from the road side, its "arms" stretched high, its body, lithe. I watch the prickly plant dance in the gentle breeze, nature's botanical ballet free to anyone with eyes to see.

Driving toward Nyons, I glance out the car window. "Acanthus mollis"* waves excitedly. "You-hoo! Here we are... been here all along, just beyond the tip of your nose!" Not one to be snubbed, the plants forgivingly salut me. Surely those flowers were there one year ago? Why didn't I see them (by the dozen!) then?

It is one thing to ignore a plant, quite another to trample over it, dismissively. "They're called "Centaurée du Solstice" Mr. Farjon says, handing me a bunch of Yellow Starthistle* that he's just gathered from the vine field. He points to the flower's sharp "needles," shares a story from his childhood, and adds, as he often does, that while the plant may be "bon à rien" ("good for nothing"... or, in this case, not useful for medical purposes), yet... "ça mérite votre attention". All plants seem to merit our attention, according to Monsieur Farjon.

Last week, on my way to the town of Orange, I skidded to a stop beside a narrow canal. Tall as a topiary top model, "Salicaire"* towered there... as she (he?) must have, last summer....

Resembling a horticultural hitchhiker, planted there beside the road, she all but thumbed a purplish petal. I thought about picking her up. Instead, I remembered an unwritten adage: if ever she be a sole or rare exemplaire,* leave her there! Still in a daze, I pulled onto the road, leaving the other drivers to admire her, gaze after gaze.

As the countryside files by me, I wonder how much I am missing. How many more prize-worthy plants are invisible to this untrained eye? Might there be a flower-elephant traipsing across the road before me -- only I am as yet unable to see it?

Finally, a favorite quote of Farjon's returns to comfort me: "Je ne cherche pas. Je trouve." I do not need to seek these plants and flowers, the colors and scents of which make me heady. They'll come and find me when I am good and ready.

*     *     *

What are your favorite plants and flowers? Please list them and, if possible, their French equivalents, in the comments box. P.S.: some of my favorites include hollyhocks, sunflowers, valerian, and -- the latest -- monnaie-du-pape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~References~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
an herbal Don Juan = (read about Monsieur Farjon) ; acanthus mollis = "Bear's Breeches" (plant); Yellow Starthistle (Centaurée du Solstice) = a flower that announces summer (solstice); Salicaire =
Purple-loosestrife ; un exemplaire (m) = example, specimen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Shopping~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monnaie-du-Pape (seeds for which I just planted this morning!)
A lovely garden detail: Fleur de Lis Hose Guard
A Francophile fryer favorite (toile apron)
Oh-so-French coffee mug
France [MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTION]
Eiffel Tower Tie

toutou

The tourist office employees are animal lovers... or else they're tired of drink requests.

PS: Jean-Marc just popped into the room, asking me to deliver this message to you: "Happy Bastille Day!"

toutou (too-too) noun, masculine
    : doggie

Get yourself a French verb wheel

I can tell you first-hand that, apart from tourists, the French town of Sarrians caters to rug rats, thieves, and cats.

Rug rats--rather "rug rat-ease"--being our topic for today, we'll skip the cat caper... though it is tempting to paint the scene: that of one "sticky-fingered" foreigner being chased by a minou* and a Maghrébine.

"I told you that kitty wasn't lost," Jean-Marc said, as we rounded a bend and slipped in to the Tourist office, unseen by the Maghrébine. I couldn't help it if that woman's cat was following me... admittedly after all the sweet talk disguised as soliloquy. (For the record, I did not steal the cat.)

Inching our way out of the tourist office, the coast now being clear, I saw the following hand-written sign posed against the municipal door: "Bar à Toutous". Beside the delightful sign, a couple of thirst-quenching quarts of water were thoughtfully set out for the town toutous... which brings us back to today's topic: "Rugrat-ease".

Inspired by the French signage (specifically the wee word "toutou"), I offer you a glossary of French kiddy talk or "langage enfantin": Please feel free to add to this list, using the comments box just below... and thanks in advance!

Petit Lexique de Langage Enfantin / Glossary of Baby Talk

le bibi (biberon) = baba (bottle)
le bobo = boo-boo (minor injury)
le coco (coquille) = egg
le coin-coin = quack-quack (duck)
le dada = horsey (horse)
le dodo (dormir) = beddie-bye (sleep)
le doudou = blankie (blanket, or other security object)
hop-là! = oopsie-daisy! (small accident)
le joujou (jouet) = toy
le kiki (quéquette) = wee-wee (penis)
le lolo (lait) = milk (also means "boob")
la mama (maman) = mama
la mémé (grandmère) = nana (grandma)
la menotte = little hand
*le minou (minet) = cat
le nanan = yummies, sweets, num-nums
la nounou (la nourrice) = child-minder
le nounourse (ours en peluche) = teddy bear
le papa (père) = daddy
le pépé (grand-père) = grandpa
le pipi = wee-wee
le popo (caca) = poo-poo, doo-doo
une quenotte = tooth
une risette = a little smile
    (faire une risette à la gentille dame) = smile for the nice lady
la tata (tante) = aunt
le tonton = uncle
le toutou = dog
le zizi = wee-wee

*Don't forget to double-check the comments section, where new words... and corrections... may be posted (hint-hint!).

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If you enjoy French Word-A-Day, you might like to help support it, whether by perusing the shopping section, below, or by making a direct contribution. Merci!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Shopping~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bonne Maman Jam Preserves : a spoonful in yogurt, on a crêpe... stock up!

Rosetta Stone V3: French, Level 1 & 2

Men's Paris to Roubaix Short Sleeve Cycling Jersey

A true Francophile's gotta have one of these!: Paris Manhole Floor Mat

Fleur De Lis Earrings

faner

The ancient walls of Gigondas (Vaucluse) where genêt gilds the countryside.

faner (fa-nay) verb
    : to wither

La gloire soudaine se fane très vite.
Sudden glory quickly withers. --Proverb

Hear the French word "faner" and today's quote, read by my son, Max: Download faner.mp3 .Download faner.wav

*     *     *

Is it too late to talk about sweet-scented French broom? "Le genêt," as it is called in France, is now withering across the French countryside, but nostalgia for the shrub never fades.

Also: "une fane" is a dead leaf... and... the verb "faner" finds itself before "fanfare" in the dictionary (while one conjugates to "withered," the other boasts a "showy outward appearance").




With French maracas playing in the background (those cicadas do give off such a rhumba shaking sound), I sit at my desk beside and open window and study "The Perfume of Broom". It is a tender short story written by my francophone aunt. The sweet-scented scenes sweep me back to Marseilles... to the chalky heights that tower over a deep blue sea; in between the two, a delicate yellow flower softens more that the rugged landscape...
.

"The Perfume of Broom" by Marie-Françoise Vidal
(read this story in French... click here)

Among all of the goodies that nature offers us in spring, a certain magical blooming has a particular importance to me, and each May brings me back to my adolescence...

Back then I was a student in Marseilles. I studied in an exceptional school, exceptional as much for the education as for the magnificent environment. The buildings spread out over the hills which scaled the limestone high massif that dominates the city.

At that time the Bac* took place over a two year period, sanctioned by two successive exams in the month of June. As soon as May approached, the vegetation surrounding our classes woke up, and the sea, close by, attracted the less studious. But the most conscientious among us knew that the dates for the dreaded exams approached... and so we threw ourselves into the non-stop revisions, even during recreation and in between classes.

In little groups, we looked for the pénombre* to continue working.... Seated at the foot of the towering broom that had just covered itself with golden flowers, we formed little industrious conclaves.

Perched over our books and our cahiers,* we were intoxicated by the honey-like perfume that the flowers emitted; it made us forget the stress and transformed us into little worker bees.

I received my Bac, and my life unfolded... but each year I am rejuvenated by the arrival of these flowers. I love the genêt* that, here, splashes the thickets, gushing up between somber berries and forming great joyous families along the chemins* that surround the vineyard parcels. I gather great brassées* which I bring back to the house in order to enjoy their sunny "fireworks" and especially for the perfume of my youth. And I wish "bonne chance"* to the young people who, in turn, prepare their own exams.

*     *     *

If you enjoyed Marie-Françoise's story, why not let her know? Thanks for leaving her a message in the comments box at the very end of this post. You might tell Marie-Françoise a bit about yourself as well :-) P.S.: If any of the messages look odd, that may be due to website spam, which I'll clear out of the box as soon as I discover it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~References~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
le bac (baccalauréat) (m) = a French diploma http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baccalaureat ; la pénombre (f) = half-light, dusk; le cahier (m) = notebook; le genêt (m) = broom; le chemin (m) = (country) road; une brassée (f) = armful; la bonne chance (f) = good luck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boutique~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excellent French/English dictionary
Provence French Linen Water - in Summer Jasmine
Summer Black French Truffles
In French hair care: Rene Furterer Complexe 5
In Music: pre-order Carla Bruni's "Comme Si de Rien N'était"

lexique

What do you do when a plant savant gives you two dozen botanical cuttings? You speed home from the village, dart out to the clothesline, and grab all the clothespins you can get, run back into the kitchen and scour the armoire for glasses (champagne flutes, wine goblets, old jam jars...)... then you carefully label each and every species (thanks to the handwritten notes that one venerable Frenchman carefully penned).

lexique (lexeek) noun, masculine

    : glossary
.

Monsieur Farjon talks about plants as some talk about humans. They have their relations, c'est-à-dire,* they have families, "ancestors". They reproduce. They are "born": some as bâtards, others with silver spoons in their botanical bouches.* Speaking of mouths, they even have body parts, such as "armpits" (aisselles), from which thirsty French birds drink à la "cabaret des oiseaux".*

They have their faults and their moods, good and bad. Ornery they are, as witnessed by their spiky "skin" or prickly "peau". Their many "fingers" cling to you like children... when they aren't altogether sticking their tongues out, teasingly. And they are liable to spit as you mosey on by, minding your own onions, in some abandoned French village.... (Just ask my own mom, who stood beside me, stunned, as one alien-like concombre d'âne* squirted at us in the ancient hilltop village of Le Cannet des Maures.)

Plants teach us, scold us, and reward us. Some are smelly, some sweet, but they all merit more than a passing glance and to most, Farjon would argue, we owe a sincere reconnaissance* ... or one final salute -- as more and more of these medieval plants are disappearing, concrete pushing up in their place. Gone are the flocks and animals that, in their own humble way, nourished these "old folks": these sometime irascible, often irresistible botanicals of prehistoric and modern Provence.

It is another kind of green that interests people these days, Farjon laments. Money and modernity would seem to have taken the limelight off of botanical antiquity. But that won't stop one "plant whisperer" from combing the countryside, to render a daily homage to his heroic heirlooms.

                                                         *     *     *

Here is the most recent batch of botanical cuttings that Monsieur Farjon brought by in a mid-summer medley. There are stories, funny and sad, behind each and every one. I hope to share some of them with you, as Monsieur Farjon has with me so as to keep their French histories alive, for posterity.

                                                        *     *     *

Note: The plants are listed in French, sometimes in Latin, in English and, here and there in Provençal (as indicated by parenthesis). In this glossary, I have included some undefined terms which I will try to clean up petit à petit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~References~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
c'est-à-dire = that is to say; la bouche (f) = mouth; le cabaret des oiseaux = bird's inn (a cabaret, apart from a place to watch dancing, is a watering hole); concombre d'âne (see glossary, below); la reconnaissance (f) = gratitude, recognition

                                 Petit Lexique Botanique / Botanical Glossary

Armoise camphrée : Artemisia abrotanum : Southernwood

Asperge Sauvage : Asaparagus acutifolius: ("lou roumanieu counieu" or "rabbit's rosemary")

Bardane : Great burdock : Arctium lappa : "herbe aux teigneux"

Cardère : Dipsacus fullonum : Wild teasel : "cabaret des oiseaux"

Chicorée Sauvage : Cichorium intybus : Root chicory: (Cicoréia)

Clématite : Clematis vitalba : "Old Man's Beard"

Concombre d'Ane : Ecballium elaterium : Squirting cucumber; momordique

Euphorbe petit cyprès : Cypress spurge : "Graveyard weed" : (lanchousclo veneneuse)

Euphorbe des bois : Euphorbia characias : Wood spurge

Gaillet : Galium verum : Yellow bedstraw : "Frigg's grass"

Hiéble: Sambucus ebulus : European Dwarf Elder and Walewort : "Blind man's herb"

Laurier Tin : Viburnum tinus : (Provençal : faveloun / pato molo / lausié flouri)

Onagre : Oenothera biennis : Evening primrose : Onagraire : "herbe aux ânes", "jambon des jardinières"

Prêle : Equisetum : "Queue de cheval" - horse tail

Rue fétide : Ruta gravéoleus : Common rue :"herbe à la belle fille"

Salsepareille : Smilax aspera: Prickly-ivy : salsepareille

Bibliography by Monsieur Farjon
While many of these books (in French) can be found at Amazon, most are rare or a bit pricey. Look for them in your local library.

"Guide familial de la medecine par les plantes" by Dr. Paul Belaiche

"Se soigner par les légumes, les fruits et les céréales" by Docteur Jean Valnet

"Aromathérapie" by Docteur Jean Valnet

"La phytothérapie : Traitement des maladies par les plantes" by Docteur Jean Valnet

"Les Plantes de mon père" by Didier Messegue

"Of People and Plants: The Autobiography of Europe's Most Celebrated Healer" by Maurice Mességué

"C'est la nature qui a raison" by Maurice Mésségué

pousser

Sunflowers near the town of Jonquières and kids growing faster than tournesols... in today's story.

Today is Joseph-Marie Jacquard's birthday. Read all about this French inventor in "Jacquard's Web: How a Hand-Loom Led to the Birth of the Information Age"

pousser (poo-say) verb
    : to push
    : to grow

Related Terms & Expressions:
  une poussette = a pushchair
  un poussoir = a push-button
  un pousse-café = an after dinner drink ("pushes down" the after-dinner coffee)
  pousser un cri = to utter a cry
  pousser un soupir = to heave a sigh (of relief)

Listen to my son, Max, pronounce the French word "pousser" and to the French terms (above):
Download pousser.mp3 . Download pousser.wav

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Festive & Frenchy~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eiffel Tower Confetti - get ready to celebrate Bastille Day!

Max returned home from basketball camp having left one item behind: his former voice. Though I'm tempted to root through the camp's Lost-n-Found* pile, grasping for that soft, well-worn voix,* I will have to remember to let go.... and let grow.

"You are growing!" I inform my son, as we stand back-to-back in another match of "C'est Qui La Plus Grande?"*
"You owe me!" Mr. Crackly Voice replies, remembering a bet we placed back when he was nine. Four years ago, I predicted my son would eclipse me, vertically, by the age of twelve. Now, at thirteen, I can still pat him on the head without having to raise my arm sky high.

Max and I settle in at the kitchen table for a late-night snack. After two buttery galettes,* I push away the cookie tin... While some of us are growing upwardly, others of us are growing in other directions, and I'm not talking spiritually or emotionally....

As Max reaches for another cookie, I try distracting myself from their buttery goodness by redirecting my attention to the table's centerpiece. I point to the ripe-red, just-harvested tomatoes: roma, cerise,* and St. Pierre. My son's nod of approval is all the encouragement that this newbie Green Thumb needs to continue planting seeds. Never mind if I messed up on the maïs.* (It seems the French grow corn for chickens, hence the tough kernels. I'll have to either rip out the two knee-high rows or give the harvest to the neighbors, for their poulailler*). Max, as if reading my mind, has another suggestion:

Man.* do you still want chickens?
"Oh, I don't know...."
"Well," Max reasons, "chickens are good for eggs... but bad for the grasse matinée.* "Cocorico!" he crackles, illustrating his point. Once again, I am reminded of my son's adolescence, which includes sleeping in long after the coq's* own voice has been spent. "Cocorico!" he repeats, his crackly-voice sounding from beyond those once chubby cheeks.

I remind myself to let go.... and let grow. That'll be my new mommy mantra from here on out. It is time to say a toast: to a growing son and a growing mom (and now I'm talking spiritually and emotionally). I raise my glass of milk, cookie crumbs floating across the surface like champagne bubbles: "Cocorico!" I sing. "Cocorico!" Max answers, eyes unchanging... sparkling... as they have since before he could speak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~References~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lost and found = objets trouvés; la voix (f) = voice; C'est Qui La Plus Grande? = Who's The Tallest?; la galette (f) = round, flat cake (cookie); la cerise (f) = cherry (tomato); le maïs (m) = corn; le poulailler (m) = henhouse; man (short for "maman") = mom; (faire) la grasse matinée = the sleep in; le coq (m) = rooster

Mere Poulard, traditional butter "galettes", packaged in a colorful tin box

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French Verb Conjugation:
je pousse, tu pousses, il/elle pousse, nous poussons, vous poussez, ils/elles poussent  => past participle: poussé

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Boutique~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ceramic Provence Olive design herb mill with French herbs

Jolee's Boutique Paris Stickers : good for notebooks, art boards...

On July 14 1789 a mob of angry Parisians stormed the Bastille and seized the King's military stores. A decade of idealism war murder and carnage followed bringing about the end of feudalism and the rise of equality and a new world order.THE FRENCH REVOLUTION is a definitive feature-length documentary that
encapsulates this heady (and often headless) period in Western civilization.

In gifts for girls: Fleur-de-lis Charm Necklace

Words in a French Life: Lessons in Love and Language from the South of France