souci
Monday, November 10, 2008
"89 and Drinks Only Wine". Monsieur Delhomme (senior).
* * *
New, in books: "I'll Never Be French (no matter what I do): Living in a Small Village in Brittany" by Mark Greenside (Author)
souci (soo-see) noun, masculine
: calendula flower (pot marigold)
[from the Latin solsequia, meaning tournesol (sunflower)]
souci (soo-see) noun, masculine
: preoccupation; concern
[from se soucier, from the Latin sollicitare (to worry)]
See (and hear!) a list of terms and expressions, and add your own, at the end of this letter.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?" What's that? Monsieur Delhomme (senior) says, chuckling in his characteristic way: his is a laughter "scented" softly with cynicism.
Monsieur is climbing up the restanque* that separates his potager* from the outskirts of our property. I hold out my hand to assist him but he waves it away impatiently.
"Bahhhh! I'm not dead yet."
Monsieur will turn 89 on November 14th. His white hair is neatly trimmed and he is wearing a black sweater with a geometric motif; the darkness highlights his handsome features and I want to tell him how good, indeed handsome, he looks but something tells me that wouldn't be appropriate.
Monsieur makes it up to the next level, where the lawn is green and dotted here and there with flowers.
"Des soucis?" says he, still chuckling, as if the marigold that he is pointing to is wearing a cream pie on its "face". Monsieur is not so much laughing at the flowers in our yard... as he is at the newbie countrywoman whose family sowed them.
I look across our lawn, to the yellow and gold flowers that have popped up in the last month. It is interesting how the colors of the flowers mimic the autumn tones in the field beyond. I notice how the purple and blue flowers of spring and summer have disappeared completely (apart from the violet-colored "cosmos"). I am amazed to have flowers at all, and my gardening good intentions are reignited, never mind Monsieur's doubts.
"Pas de soucis!"* I answer, offering up a play on words and a joke all rolled into one. Monsieur laughs... the way one might laugh at city slickers.
It has been one year and four months since my husband moved our family to this "petit trou perdu"* as friends are wont to call it. But, far from being discouraged, we fall in love with the countryside a little bit more each day... not that we know the secrets of gardening or of farming. But we are learning and our "findings" never cease to amaze us.
"Findings" such as those little, cranberry-sized "bulbs" (I think they are...) that I found this morning, cleaving to the mama plant like sucklings.
"What are you doing over there?" Monsieur asks, and I imagine he's expecting a good laugh.
"Planting muscari!"* I anwer with pride--and in stride, this time.
"Muscari?" he questions, and that cynical snickering of his returns.
He should talk. For a countryman he sure can't name flowers--and he's no Monsieur Farjon (my other venerable voisin,* a.k.a. "The Herbal Don Juan"). I show Mr. Delhomme the great clump of dirt that I have "fished" out of a big flower pot, having been amazed at all the "baby" bulbs that now surrounded it. I got the little bunch of grape-colored flowers at the outdoor market last year, excited to learn that it wasn't too late to plant bulbs (that is, if you bought the kind that come with flowers "attached".), and plant them I did: the "easy way" (by sticking them in the nearest, unencumbered pot). This time, I am doing things the right way: planting those secondary bulbs in good ground. Specifically, I am targeting those brown, empty patches along the lawn, hoping to see ink-blue flowery clusters in their place, come springtime.
Monsieur has a good laugh at all this "nonsense" going on, up in our yard before he offers some farmerly advice:
"Fraises!"* Plant a row here!, just one row--all along the edge. He tells me that one of the prior owners had planted strawberries and melons... before heading to Syria during the war.
It occurs to me that Monsieur has lived through a world war (nearly two, in fact...) and so it's no wonder that he laughs at flowers. What good are hyacinths where hungry exists? When the village shops were closing during WWII and food was scarce, Monsieur and his family had grain fields. The oven at Monsieur's home was fired up and feeding the family (and some of the town's unfortunates) fresh loaves of bread.
I toss my clump of baby bulbs aside, but only for the moment, and invite Monsieur to taste my husband's new rosé.* Wine, I guessed, was another thing a farmer with foresight might enjoy during the war. Whether or not, like flowers, it is an "essential" is, essentially, up to one's tastes.
souci (soo-see) noun, masculine
: calendula flower (pot marigold)
[from the Latin solsequia, meaning tournesol (sunflower)]
souci (soo-see) noun, masculine
: preoccupation; concern
[from se soucier, from the Latin sollicitare (to worry)]
See (and hear!) a list of terms and expressions, and add your own, at the end of this letter.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?" What's that? Monsieur Delhomme (senior) says, chuckling in his characteristic way: his is a laughter "scented" softly with cynicism.
Monsieur is climbing up the restanque* that separates his potager* from the outskirts of our property. I hold out my hand to assist him but he waves it away impatiently.
"Bahhhh! I'm not dead yet."
Monsieur will turn 89 on November 14th. His white hair is neatly trimmed and he is wearing a black sweater with a geometric motif; the darkness highlights his handsome features and I want to tell him how good, indeed handsome, he looks but something tells me that wouldn't be appropriate.
Monsieur makes it up to the next level, where the lawn is green and dotted here and there with flowers.
"Des soucis?" says he, still chuckling, as if the marigold that he is pointing to is wearing a cream pie on its "face". Monsieur is not so much laughing at the flowers in our yard... as he is at the newbie countrywoman whose family sowed them.
I look across our lawn, to the yellow and gold flowers that have popped up in the last month. It is interesting how the colors of the flowers mimic the autumn tones in the field beyond. I notice how the purple and blue flowers of spring and summer have disappeared completely (apart from the violet-colored "cosmos"). I am amazed to have flowers at all, and my gardening good intentions are reignited, never mind Monsieur's doubts.
"Pas de soucis!"* I answer, offering up a play on words and a joke all rolled into one. Monsieur laughs... the way one might laugh at city slickers.
It has been one year and four months since my husband moved our family to this "petit trou perdu"* as friends are wont to call it. But, far from being discouraged, we fall in love with the countryside a little bit more each day... not that we know the secrets of gardening or of farming. But we are learning and our "findings" never cease to amaze us.
"Findings" such as those little, cranberry-sized "bulbs" (I think they are...) that I found this morning, cleaving to the mama plant like sucklings.
"What are you doing over there?" Monsieur asks, and I imagine he's expecting a good laugh.
"Planting muscari!"* I anwer with pride--and in stride, this time.
"Muscari?" he questions, and that cynical snickering of his returns.
He should talk. For a countryman he sure can't name flowers--and he's no Monsieur Farjon (my other venerable voisin,* a.k.a. "The Herbal Don Juan"). I show Mr. Delhomme the great clump of dirt that I have "fished" out of a big flower pot, having been amazed at all the "baby" bulbs that now surrounded it. I got the little bunch of grape-colored flowers at the outdoor market last year, excited to learn that it wasn't too late to plant bulbs (that is, if you bought the kind that come with flowers "attached".), and plant them I did: the "easy way" (by sticking them in the nearest, unencumbered pot). This time, I am doing things the right way: planting those secondary bulbs in good ground. Specifically, I am targeting those brown, empty patches along the lawn, hoping to see ink-blue flowery clusters in their place, come springtime.
Monsieur has a good laugh at all this "nonsense" going on, up in our yard before he offers some farmerly advice:
"Fraises!"* Plant a row here!, just one row--all along the edge. He tells me that one of the prior owners had planted strawberries and melons... before heading to Syria during the war.
It occurs to me that Monsieur has lived through a world war (nearly two, in fact...) and so it's no wonder that he laughs at flowers. What good are hyacinths where hungry exists? When the village shops were closing during WWII and food was scarce, Monsieur and his family had grain fields. The oven at Monsieur's home was fired up and feeding the family (and some of the town's unfortunates) fresh loaves of bread.
* * *
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une restanque (f) = a little "muret" or wall; le potager (m) = vegetable garden; pas de soucis = no worries (pas de soucis could also mean "no marigolds"); le petit trou (m) perdu = middle of nowhere; le muscari (m) = grape hyacinth; le voisin (m) la voisine (f) = neighbor; une fraise (f) = strawberry; husband's new rosé: (the secret's out: Jean-Marc has created his first rosé wine. Check back to this address to find out when it will be available!)
Shopping:
Race to the finish with this sleek new version of Mille Bornes, the classic auto race card game.
Fallot Dijon Herbed Mustards - Set of 4 French Mustards
Cote Sud magazine and "the art of living a sumptuous life in the South of France."
Words in a French Life: Lessons in Love and Language from the South of France
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soucis: terms and expressions:
avoir le souci de plaire = to be anxious to please
avoir souci de quelque chose = to worry about something
avoir le souci de bien faire = to be concerned about doing something well
avoir le souci de la vérité = to be meticulously truthful
se faire du souci = to worry
sans souci = carefree
se soucier de son avenir = to worry about one's future
Do you have a term or expression to add? Thank you for sharing it here.
AUDIO FILE:
Listen to the French word "soucis" and to the above terms & expressions: Download souci.wav .Download souci.mp3
Also:
C'est le moindre (or) C'est le cadet de mes soucis = it's the least of my worries
Also:
C'est le moindre (or) C'est le cadet de mes soucis = it's the least of my worries
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Regarde Madame! Les muscaris.....when you know longer want them, you will not be able to get rid of them! Those babies multiply and multiply...and because they are tiny and fragile, impossible to dig them all up. If you leave just on or two behind then those multiply and multiply again! Oh la la! You have an open field so they may be fine for you, but a pain in the rear in my flower bed!
Tammy
Posted by: Tammy | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 02:38 PM
Hi!
“Don't worry about tomorrow, today has enough worries of its own”, but, the following French quote goes further -->
“Les soucis d'aujourd'hui sont les plaisanteries de demain. Rions-en donc tout de suite”.(Henri Béraud)”......
Lesson in optimism? How many times do we say: “I can laugh about it now.... , but at the time, I was ever so worried”!... I couldn't sleep... Well, laughing about our worries, at the time they worry us, as suggested in "Rions-en tout de suite" doesn't come easily for everyone...
I like the phrase “Sans souci” given to a residence... I am thinking about the Palace and Park of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, at Potsdam, near Berlin, a good example of Rococo architecture and landscaping. Frederick the Great (1712-1786) was the "philosopher" of “Sans Souci”.
There are some “Sans souci” castles, hotels, “Sans souci” restaurants... and some people are happy to give the name “sans souci” to their “free and easy” Holiday homes or little cottage!
OK, Monsieur Delhomme didn't expect to see marigolds on your lawn, but it must look quite nice! By the way, hasn't Monsieur Delhomme got any flowers in his garden (in between his rows of veg and strawberries?
I don't dare telling you how many (daffodil) bulbs I bought in October (but haven't managed to plant yet, because of the very bad weather!)
Posted by: Newforest24 | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 03:02 PM
You go Kristin! If you like flowers then plant them, they are good for the heart and the spirit. In my old garden, I had planted ribbons of muscari. I intend to do it here in my new gardens. They are so wonderful in April.
In time, if you are interested in fruit & vegetables, you'll learn about them, and you'll plant them too. Then it's good for the heart, the spirit and the body!
Start small with just a few plants or seeds. In your beautiful Provence, you can grow salad greens throughout the winter. Such a pleasure to be able to harvest your salad minutes before eating it.
But I do want to offer a correction of your translation of souci, the flower. It's calendula (species Calendula), also known as Pot Marigold. At least in the US, marigold refers to the species Tagetes, which is known in French as Oeuillet D'Inde. Although the colors are similar, the plants belong to two different botanical family and look different. The Calendula originates from the Mediterranean basin, the Tagetes from the Americas. I am sure Mr. Farjon can tell you about its medicinal properties.
Best
Sylvie
http:/www.LaughingDuckGarden.com/ldblog.php
Posted by: Sylvie, Rappahannock Cook & Kitchen Gardener | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 03:31 PM
I live in north Scottsdale, AZ and there's a French restaurant in the next town called Sans Souci. The name of the town is Carefree. I just got it!
Posted by: Peggy B | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 03:51 PM
le cadet de mes soucis -- the least of my worries.
Posted by: Linda Roll | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 03:58 PM
Muscari and Snowdrops are the first flowers of spring around here. Every year the muscari seem to spread some more and every year the neighbors comment on how cheerful they look.
Posted by: martina | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 05:00 PM
OH COMME CHARMANTE!!!!! et il est tres beau ;) bz, L
Posted by: laura | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 05:08 PM
There's another flower of Autumn, the humble Flanders Poppy, special international symbol of remembrance of The Great War.
Tomorrow, France will celebrate Armistice Day, 90th year anniversary.
http://www.rsa.org.nz/remem/poppy_sig.html
The poppy of wartime remembrance is the red corn poppy, Papaver rhoeas, a common weed of Europe. The red poppy was one of the few plants that grew on the Western Front; it's seeds wait patiently for years, for disturbance and cool weather - conditions well met in the soil of intensively-shelled battlefields of France.
World War I catalyzed important technological innovations that changed forever the patterns of daily life and urban landscape - an era we call 'The Modern Age'.
The battlefields of France continue to disgorge an ungodly crop: soldierly remains, rusting guns, spent and still-dangerous live munitions, and personal effluvia of military life in the trenches.
It is good to think on the significance of the humble red poppy and all that it portends, when lives and lands are permanently altered through disturbance.
Posted by: Intuit | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 09:15 PM
There is an entire suburb in Sydney, Australia named "Sans Souci" which in practice is pronounced "SAN-soozi" or "SAN-soossi". Sans Souci took its name from a grand house built on Rocky Point Road on land bought in 1853, by Thomas Holt (1811-1888), a wood merchant and politician, for his German wife. It was named after Sanssouci in Potsdam, Germany, the summer palace of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia.
"No worries" is a very Australian expression these days ... "Thank you very much." "No worries," is usually the reply.
I enjoy these French words and vignettes very much, although I have no real plans for studying French in a structured way. the spelling put me off, as a child, and I learned Latin, and later Italian, instead. Now, however, I have a distinct fondness for france and the French, and am happy to learn a word or two by osmosis, but the cultural understandings are what draw me back throughout my busy day. Thank you very much!
Posted by: Trisha | Monday, November 10, 2008 at 11:30 PM
Chere Amie,
As you do my wife, Nancy, does flowers and I the edibles. Of course, plant your fancies, and if you like berries then blackberries and strawberries will give you some flowers and beautify your desserts and seduce your palate with their scrumptious tastes. Also, once planted, they spread profusely and need to be controlled.
Our blackberries came with the house and defend their offspring with nasty briers. They are so delicious I reach for all the ripe fruit and deal with the petits wounds for many days.
Blueberries are great, too, and with these fruits you have fierce competition from les oiseaux,
I have the sense that you knew all this and my comments are superfluous attempts to boost your opinion of me. Je suis imparfait.
Posted by: Fred Caswell | Tuesday, November 11, 2008 at 12:14 AM
When I was a kid I lived in the Sydney (Australian) suburb of Sans Souci. We called it 'sanz sooshi'.
While popular thought points to the namesake of Fred the Great's palace, the suburb was actually an ode to Colonel Jean-Baptist Sans Souci.
Posted by: Sorcha | Tuesday, November 11, 2008 at 01:19 AM
Planting flowers is so hopeful and when they come up in the spring, you'll be so glad you did the work now! My favorites here in Northern NY are the crocus, because they're so hardy and come back year after year, if the deer don't eat them. I'm happy to say that even though I taught for a long time and go to France every year, I'm still learning from you. My new word for today was restanque. Your blog is really good. Merci. and thanks for the photos you choose to illustrate your stories.
Posted by: Carol | Tuesday, November 11, 2008 at 02:47 AM
Thank you to the person who posted about the poppy. I followed the link and read the short history. It is very interesting and moving. I remember reading the poem "In Flanders Fields" as a child and selling poppies made by disabled veterans. Lately when I ask students about the poem, they don't seem to recognize it, sadly. It was written during what was at the time called the "War to End all wars". We wish! Tomorrow is Veterans' Day here in the USA and we all have much to be grateful for to all of our veterans, past and present.
Posted by: Carol | Tuesday, November 11, 2008 at 03:11 AM
Great word Kristine!
'Sans Souci' is also the name of a suburb in Sydney (Australia)I always like to teach "no worries' which is 'pas de souci' in French because it is a word which is already familiar to my students therefor easy to remember.
'souci' is also a flower name also known as 'Calendula'
I've got to go now'Il faut que j'y aille' is the most popular way to say 'I must go now' notice the use of the Subjunctif of Aller.
I love explaining the French subjunctif because I make it completely comprehensible to all my students beginners like advanced!
Il faut que j'y aille maintenant car j'ai une classe!
Merci et à bientôt!
Posted by: frenchclass (Martine) | Tuesday, November 11, 2008 at 11:59 PM
It is true...the grape hyacinths may take over your garden. I now dig them up to make room for other plants...bonne chance!
Posted by: Jan H | Wednesday, November 12, 2008 at 01:42 AM
I can't believe Monsieur is going to be 89. He looks fantastic! I wonder if he was as handsome in his younger days as he is now?! ;o
Posted by: Denise | Thursday, November 13, 2008 at 08:27 PM
What a fantastic blog! I've already used one of the words in daily use today! Amazingly good, keep up the work...
Posted by: Michael Lee | Sunday, November 16, 2008 at 10:08 AM