Today's metaphor involves a bowling ball. With no such picture in my photo archives, I offer a not-so-close second: la balle de golf. (In the photo--taken in 2005, near Bandol--our daughter, then 8 years-old, seems to be imitating me. In reality, she's getting ready to roll down the grassy hill. Don't worry about the ball, it won't reach her. I won't even be able to hit it off the tee).
Beautifully renovated and decorated home in the Luberon. 4 bedrooms and a study with a sofa bed, each with ensuite (full) bath. This villa comfortably sleeps 7-9 adults.
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... BY KRISTIN ESPINASSE
There is an encouraging dicton in French that promises: La nuit porte conseil ("night brings counsel"). Turning over in bed, I stared out the window--searching for the answer. There were several problems, but I began to sense one solution that would solve every single souci!
Like the bowling ball that knocks down all 10 pins, all I needed to do was to roll out of bed and continue in a straight line, on target! Action brings reward, and no sooner did I push back the bed covers when I heard barking on the horizon. The first pin was about to tumble! It seemed our missing dogs were back from their latest fugue. But I would need to catch them before they dashed off again.
I tied on my shoes and shot up the path behind our house, where Jean-Marc was watering his newly-planted grapevines. (If my husband wasn't chasing down our dogs the moment they appeared, it is because I have more luck coaxing Braise and Smokey back home.)
"They ran that way," Jean-Marc said, pointing his hose toward the woods. My husband's words ricocheted across the vine row, which may as well have been a line of deadpans--if such a variety of grapes existed. Of course it didn't, but there was no mistaking the emptiness in his voice. Obviously he was still smarting.
I paused in my tracks, feeling all the weight of my metaphoric bowling ball. And then I remembered: Just keep rolling. I'll eventually get to that pin: first the dog pin, then the husband pin!
I continued on, direction les chiens! Halfway up the forest path, my husband shouted: "If you want to find the dogs, I told you they went that way!"
Whereas my husband's voice had been empty, this time he seemed annoyed. Oh boy. We had a ways to go before patching things up again! Even as I ran toward the dogs, I was recalculating just how long it would now take to reach the husband pin, having understood his distance!
No number appeared--for it was impossible to estimate how many minutes, hours, or days until I would reach the husband pin. I raced into the woods, reaching our two smiley golden retrievers. Amazing how well off they always are, just when I think they've been run over by the nearby TGV!
Gripping one dog collar in each hand, I turned toward home, fully intent on rolling right on past the grumbling husband pin. Forget him! Only, owing to the uneven terrain of the vineyard, and the dogs---which yanked me left and right--this prideful bride was delivered right to her husband's side!
(Around about here my bowling metaphor has lost steam, so we've thrown in a stubborn bride to keep things alive and kicking!)
The dogs paused as I came face to face with my husband and, looking at him, as if in a mirror, I recognized something: myself. That's when the number came to me. Zero. In no time at all we could make up--if we would just see the other's pain and feel compassion.
"Thank you," I mumbled, motioning to the found dogs. It was all I could manage before Braise and Smokey yanked me away, to the left, to the right--all the way down the path towards home.
When I got there I moved the bouquet of wilting wildflowers inside. They had sat outside in a bucket for two days--ever since my husband collected them for me, apologetically. It was time to accept them. Time to protect them.
le dicton = saying
le souci = worry
la fugue = running away
le chien = dog
le TGV = Train à Grande Vitesse, high-speed train
New rental in Provence. In the charming village of Sablet--this spacious home is the perfect place to return to after sightseeing, bicycling or hiking.
You should have seen these 3 or 4 days ago! The wild gladiolas have withered, but the flowers are still in good shape. Can you name some of them? Jean-Marc tells me that every specimen was taken from the field where he just planted his baby vines. In the background you can see Mom's painting of Jean-Marc's wine. And that's Jean-Marc's grandfather's couch. The neat thing about this old canapé, is the way the arms fold down. Jean-Marc's grandfather napped there, and JM likes to rest here too.
A Message from Kristi on this blog's 19th anniversary
Thank you for reading this language journal. In 2002 I left my job at a vineyard and became self-employed in France. "French Word-A-Day" has been my full-time occupation ever since. Ongoing support from readers like you helps keep this site ad-free and allows me to focus on writing. My wish is to continue creating posts that are educational, insightful, and heart-warming. If my work has touched you in any way, please consider supporting it via a blog donation.
Ways to contribute:
1. Send a check
2. PayPal or credit card
3. A bank transfer, ZELLE is a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction fees.
Or purchase our online memoir, The Lost Gardens