The French word for Puppy (see Smokey and his 5 sisters when they were baby goldens)

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Our Smokey turned 9 last week (here he is with 2 of his 5 sisters, in 2009). Following the previous post, I received several emails about our golden "showing his age." Funny, I didn't notice the gray in his beard or his eyebrows..until now. And it's all got me thinking about how we need to treasure every day with him. 

We'll keep the rest of this post light, with a look back at Smokey and his sisters. You'll meet Braise, too, Smokey's mama. We got her from the dog pound before we moved to the first vineyard. She passed in 2015, at the same age Smokey is now. We really do need to treasure every day from here on out!


Today's Word: le chiot

    : puppy, pup

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Kids! Every parent knows that caring for them can be an all-consuming activity, that is, when the kids are not busy consuming you.

Yesterday, Braise and I, exhausted after 7 weeks... and 14 years (respectively) of child-rearing, decided to GIVE IN.  And so we collapsed on the front porch and put up our figurative white flags.

With that... the puppies rushed forth in victory!

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After getting our ears, noses, fingers, and toes chewed on... and our shirts and fur slobbered on... on a eu assez!... That's when we decided to play dead in order to get these puppies off our heads!

(Photo, below: Braise, in the background, feigns la mort. I follow suit, protecting my face just in case...)

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Braise is a natural. Just look at her play dead...

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In my case, the puppies aren't buying it -- though one stops to feel my pulse with her paws.....

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After a bit of ceremonial concern (short-lived sympathy on their part) ... the puppies now esteem that it is time to revive the drama queens.

Let's get their ears! Let's pull on their hair! (Braise, in the background, continues to play dead, unfazed by the toutou torture...)

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The victor! (Actually, there were six of them. Each got his/her turn to rise to the sky as Champion, glorified


FRENCH VOCABULARY
le chiot =
puppy, pup
on a eu assez = we'd had enough
la mort = death
le toutou = doggie (from this list of French baby talk)
Le Seigneur = Lord (from last photo caption, below) 

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Smokey griffes de sorcieres
Smokey, finding a cool spot during the heatwave, as he snoozes on a bed of griffes de Sorcière (witches claws!)

Smokey and bougainvillea
Seigneur, remind me of my priorities, including spending more time with my dog!

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


Droit au but: Smokey update

Winetasting

Come to our home, this Monday, April 20th at 3p.m. for snacks and a winetasting. (We live near Bandol) To reserve your seat, email [email protected] (p.s if the fava beans are ready, we'll try some :-)


droit au but (dwaht-oh-bewt)

  • to go straight to the goal, directly to the goal
  • to get right to the point

AUDIO FILE: Listen to Jean-Marc read the French words (BTW: Did you hear the train whistle? My husband recorded this soundfile while laboring his vinefields! Today he is removing giant rocks, making room for more grapevines. You can hear his strained breathing as he speaks!) Download MP3 or Wav

Smokey est allé doit au but. Il a couru vers le monstre jusqu'à ce que ce dernier fasse demi-tour pour fuir dans la forêt pour toujours ! Smokey went straight to the goal: he ran toward the monster until the latter turned to flee into the forest forever.

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

Yesterday morning, while putting the finishing touches on my feature story for France Today (Ça y est! C'est fini!) Max popped his head into the bedroom. Reaching down, he patted our youngest dog, who was resting on the floor beside me, after Tuesday's biopsy.

"Ah, do I have a story about Smokey!" Max perked up, his eyes traveling from Smokey to the window, beyond which a great field meets the forest.

"See over there? That is where we saw the wild boar! Mathilde and I were playing fetch with Smokey, when I threw the stick... and a giant sanglier charged out of the forest to collect it!

"Oh mon Dieu! Where was Mathilde?" I asked, worried about Max's girlfriend.

"She stood frozen, tétanisée, between those two olive trees as the boar bolted towards her, the ground thundering beneath its feet!" 

Max threw out his arms, trying to describe the beast, which was thrice the size of our golden retriever. "I screamed for Smokey to come back, but he ran in front of Mathilde and charged on towards that boar!"

Max knew what everyone in these parts knows: a dog is no match for a wild boar! Screaming in vain, my son could not stop our dog from pursuing the threat, and so prepared for the worst as Smokey disappeared into the dark forest.

Then suddenly our golden reappeared! Rushing up to the beautiful demoiselle en détresse, he never once stopped to consider his weakness.

*    *    *

I hope you enjoyed Max's story about Smokey The Wonderdog. I shared several others with you, Tuesday, when I told you about that méchant lump. Bad news is the lab report came back positive for cancer. The vet was not able to operate, as planned, owing to excessive inflammation. More info, below, in these posts shared on Instagram, and here's an uplifting comment we received on Facebook, this one by Vayia M:

He will be fine! Yes, he will!!! Only positive thinking, he deserves it!

 Yes, yes! Smokey, you deserve it :-)

Smokey-sleeping

(Yesterday's update, on Instagram) The lump could not be removed today. The surgery is in one week, when the swelling subsides. "It is unfair that dogs get cancer," the vet said, agreeing with Jackie, who tried to make sense of the diagnosis. Looking to the bright side, Smokey has hopeful options--this, in addition to the Super Giant Lucky Star that shines down on him.

Smokey-and-Jackie

His upside down umbrella did not shield him from the deluge of kisses he just received from Jackie. He's now planning on bringing this prop to the beach this summer. And the summer after that. Or, as Karen said, on FacebookAnd seven or eight summers after that!


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Smokey, when he was a pup.

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


Come to our winetasting Apr. 20th + Smokey's lump

Jean-marc olive tree france vineyard
Jean-Marc, laboring his 1st year vines. He is pushing a motorized plow, or motoculteur avec charrue, the idea being the plow would do most of the work. But as I snapped this photo from the upper field, I heard a lot of French cussing as my husband struggled to direct his new and unwieldy assistant....

WINETASTING - APRIL 20th
Please come to our home, this Monday, 3p.m. for the first dégustation of the season! 10 euro fee. We will try three wines and enjoy some snacks out on our balcony. We will also all lay hands on Smokey! So please come, and help cheer our littlest golden. Please send your confirmation message to me at [email protected]

Déguster (day-goos-tay)

    : to taste


AUDIO FILE
: Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the following French words: 
Download Deguster or Wav file
 
Venez déguster mon vin rosé le vingt avril. A bientôt!
Come try my rosé wine this April 20th. See you soon!

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

Smokey could use your thoughts and prayers at this moment, as he is currently in surgery for the removal of a méchant lump (a "mean" lump, as the doctor noted, on examing the bleeding, golf-ball size mass which grew rapidly over the past week).

Our wonder dog came into this world after his mother disappeared for a day in the bustling streets of Marseilles. She returned with a big surprise. Les chiots. Puppies!

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We kept Smokey, the only male in a litter of girls, but almost lost him at the age of 2 months -- when he was attacked by two big dogs

Smokey was stapled back together and has learned to live with his handicap (a tongue that hangs out perpetually, making it difficult for him to eat; his astuce, or trick is to chew on his wrists after his meal. Perhaps the chewing produces extra saliva which helps to digest all the croquettes that are stuck in his throat...

Then there was The Attack of the Provencale Vineyard Monster (probably a wild boar, or sanglier, defending her babies). The unlucky run-in left Smokey with giant holes in his already lopsided face. Once again, he was stitched back together.

My dog and I even had joint accidents as in last November, while out on a walk. When a guard dog in a fenced yard burst out of the bushes, Smokey went flying, dislocating my elbow when I could not leg go of the leash

My-best-friend
                                     "Whiskers"

So now one of us has a crooked arm and the other, a crooked face. And up until now, we have been thrilled to walk this crooked path together. Because isn't that the way life is: never straight ahead - always an unexpected bend in the road.

Braise and Smokey, golden retriever dogs
 
                Smokey and Mama Breizh

Le tout, the most important, is to help each other along as best we can. To be gentle to each other, to find the kind word. To love, forgive, and to sacrifice. Nothing else matters. Everything else makes it difficult to practice these virtues.

Why does it always take a crisis to remember the essential? And then why do we blame ourselves for the fate of our loved ones?

Mon Smokey! You have helped yourself to heal in so many ways. Please, oh, please, use all your wonder dog powers to heal today

 

Smokey-sad

Smokey. Photo taken three years ago. But he had that same uncertain look on his face this morning. Please keep our golden boy in your thoughts. Merci beaucoup!

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


how to say sunset in French?

1-coucher du soleil

Parasol pines and the sunset over the Mediterranean, at Le Port d'Alon in St Cyr-sur-Mer.

coucher du soleil (kew-shay-dew-sow-lay)

    : sunset

Audio file: listen to Jean-Marc 
Download MP3 or Wav file

Ce soir à Bandol, le coucher du soleil est à 16h56.
Tonight in Bandol, the sunset is at 4:56 p.m.

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

I felt guilty taking Smokey for the walk this time--after all, it was Braise's turn. Ideally I could promener both dogs, but golden retrievers are strong engines and it's difficult to control two leashes hooked to that much dog power!

"It's okay, Braise, we'll be back--with dinner!" I say, hurrying Smokey into my car--as though we were only going for take-out food. But Braise is sharper than both of us, she's nobody's fool. Because she is a gourmande, or foodie, she'll turn a blind eye on things this time--just as long as we return in half an hour with dinner!

I feel horrible backing out of our driveway, Smokey by my side. I know it's wrong to show favoritism, and I never set out to prefer one dog over the other. But every since our youngest golden was attacked by two dogs, I can't help but feel for him. Every single time I see his pendant tongue--dried like cardboard from constant contact with the air, I'm reminded of his misfortune. 

Braise and Smokey, golden retriever dogs
       Braise fiercely protected her son when he was attacked, years ago.

Walking is therapy for both of us. Hiking through the coastal forest we are free to explore our surroundings, both literally and figuratively (Smokey likes to sniff out those "marked" rocks, while I'm busy turning over pebbles in my mind. I know the answers are under there, somewhere. Come here often enough, and I'll find the hidden keys).

Occasionally we encounter another hiker and I automatically call Smokey close, putting on his leash. I wouldn't want the stranger to feel uncomfortable or afraid. Of course there is no reason to fear Smokey, but how could a stranger know that? By pulling my dog close, I can at least put the other person at ease.

But what about my dog? What kind of message am I giving him? Have I only been reinforcing the fear I'd hoped to erase? "Smokey, come here!" I say, chaining him whenever a stranger approaches. I wonder, now, just what kind of message this is to the former victim.

1-coucher du soleil - smokey

The leash-or-not-to-leash question came up several months ago, while hiking my favorite coastal path. Braise (for it was Braise I was walking this time--I assure you it was!), yes it was Braise's turn to walk the day we encountered an elderly man and his unleashed boxer dog.

Noting Braise's excitement, the man offered a solution: "Why don't you unhook her from the leash?"

I watched, amazed, as Braise immediately dropped her intimidating act (restrained while her would-be-foe was free to attack--she had no choice but to pretend to be something bigger than him. In this case she was pretending to be a grizzly bear!). 

The experienced worked that time, but here now--as Smokey and I approached the last leg of our walk, I spotted another leashless dog....

It seemed to be a labrador-boxer mix. Did he or she belong to the lovers who were blocking the trail? I tried to get eye contact, but the couple was unfazed as they stood, bodies entangled, staring out to the horizon.

"Excuse me," I said, getting more nervous by the moment (yet careful not to transfer my emotions to Smokey). "Is that your dog?"

The couple's trance was temporarily broken when the man looked over at the black and gray dog. "No. I don't know who it belongs to." The lovers returned to their peaceful embrace, as they gazed out to sea.

Meantime Smokey and I needed to step past them and that unpredictable dog just beyond! In a ready-set-charge mode I seized Smokey's leash, ready to streak past the catatonic trio (the dog's eyes were trained eerily on us!). 

Suddenly the man turned to me and raised his hand. "Shhh!" he said, putting his finger to his lips.

Shhh? 

Shhh! he repeated, and he smiled as he pointed to the horizon. I turned to see a dark orange disk sinking slowly into the sea. 

"Qu'est-ce que c'est beau!" It's beautiful! said another voice drifting up from the hillside. I looked down to discover another group of hikers, eyes glued to the far side of the sky. They whispered in awe as they, too, watched the sun set over the Mediterranean. 

With everyone standing there goo-goo eyed--bodies flushed with the drug of scenery--I realized, finally, this was no time to be on a mission! My eyes disconnected from the threatening dog, settling instead on the coucher de soleil. I gently turned Smokey's head in the same direction, before kneeling beside him to enjoy Nature's closing act.

When the sun disappeared behind the sea, the strangers began to look around at each other, in unspoken appreciation of what they had just seen. That's when I noticed the "scary" black dog. It had quietly wandered up to Smokey and me, to rest peacefully beside us.

As the strangers dispersed, so did a few more of my fears. Little by little, they are dropping off to sea... one sunset at a time.

1-coucher du soleil

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


Need encouragement? How to say "If at first you don't succeed try try again"

saint-peray cornas domaine chaboud wine barrel Les bouteilles (c) Kristin Espinasse
Thank you for your encouraging feedback on the recent video I made with Smokey. But after trying and failing to make a follow up recording, I'm wondering if I should just stick to photography (today's pic taken on our Rhone river cruise) instead! In times like these, I find the following saying to be particularly reassuring: 

dix fois sur le métier, remettre son ouvrage!
    : if at first you don't succeed, try try again!

(a second translation follows. See the audio section, below)

 

Audio File: listen to Jean-Marc read the example sentences: Download MP3 or Wav file

Dix fois sur le métier, remettre son ouvrage.
If at first you don't succeed, try try again.

Note: sometimes "vingt fois" is used. I found this example at Linguee.com:

Nous devons mettre en pratique la maxime bien connue de Boileau, « Vingt fois sur le métier remettez votre ouvrage », c'est-à-dire revenir inlassablement à la tâche en multipliant les occasions de faire passer les messages. We must apply the well-known maxim of Boileau: "go back to your work again," that is, keep at your task tirelessly and take every opportunity to get the message across.


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

On The Workings of Inspiration

Saturday afternoon, during a restless and agitated sieste, I began to sense some kind of pull coming from within. Next, it felt as though invisible fingers had wrapped around me and were now carrying me out of my bed and over to my desk.

There, I began searching wildly for my video camera. Incredibly I found it, only to rush around trying to find a stable surface on which to set it, and so begin recording the message that was bubbling out from deep within. 

But each time I steadied the camera (on a chair or on the bed or par terre) it tipped and fell over.

Va dehors... I continued to follow the curious inner-urging, which led me down the dirt path opposite the leafy potager, past the clothesline, and over to the cabanon.

Along the way, I picked up a plastic laundry basket, already calculating the height at which I would need to place the camera. I automatically grabbed a picnic chair, in passing.

Now facing the stone wall of the shed, the camera steadied on the laundry basket, which teetered over the chair, I quickly hit "record".... 

Next I hurried around to the other side of the lens. 
Smokey followed, until we were both posed before the camera like a couple of animated puppets, brought to life by the artist behind the scene.

After only one take, the recording was a relative success (not counting the lost footage, when the camera ran out of space), so much so that Smokey and I began to entertain visions of the next Cannes film festival, where we fancied ourselves strolling the red carpet with the likes of Jean Dujardin.

Not wasting a moment, Smokey and I set out to top our first recording. Cannes here we come! Only this time, when the camera began rolling, calamity struck.

The puppets petered out! 

And so it was that, without the great puppet master, Inspiration, the two self-appointed starlets hung heavy from the strings that once supported them.

Across the path, over on the clothesline, the laundry hung in much the same way. And so I got up and went to collect it. 

***

Post note: the question now is, do we wait for inspiration in order to carry out our artistic pursuits?

If I waited for inspiration each time I set out to write, I would not write very many stories (today, for example, was a total no-inspiration day... a day in which I wanted to crawl back under the covers, and rot there).

But my motto has always been "don't wait for inspiration! Keep plugging away! Work past the difficulty." While this advice is good for writing, it may not work for filming—a medium which is much less forgiving.

French Vocabulary

la sieste = nap
par terre = on the floor
va dehors = go outside
le potager = kitchen garden
le cabanon = stone shack, or hut

 

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"Maybe next time we should wear wigs?" Smokey suggests.... photo taken in Avignon

 NEWS! I am excited to be featured in Ann Mah's Tuesday Night Dinner column. It will be published today, so please check back, via this link, to see if the interview has been posted. You'll learn about what a typical evening mealtime is like here at our place!

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


Epine: Mr Farjon, the plant man, returns

  Capture plein écran 14082012 121905

Mr. Farjon came by to drop off this newspaper clipping (see our son, Max, posing with our town's mayor after a military march). Mr Farjon brought a few other things when he came to visit. Read today's story for more.

une épine (ay-peen)

    : thorn

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

Les épines, ça ne sert à rien, c'est de la pure méchanceté de la part des fleurs. Thorns are good for nothing. Just a flower's way of being spiteful! —Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

 

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

I had an unexpected visit from Mr Farjon the other day. It was such a coincidence, as I had been thinking of him recently—nostalgically remembering all the visits he paid me a several years back.

Just like old times, Mr Farjon parked his ancient Peugeot (a bicycle) outside our portail, leaning it against a giant wine barrel, one of two that flank the entrance to our courtyard. Running up to the gate to greet him, I noticed how stiff his legs were as he walked, slightly hunched over. Instead of leading him to the picnic table, beneath the old mulberry tree, I offered him a seat on the steps beside it.

I was eager to point out our new friends in the garden.... Four years ago, there wouldn't have been any mirabilis jalapa, or marvel of Peru, growing here—and forget about the lily of Spain, or valerian, which now shot up throughout the courtyard, in splashes of raspberry red! Today our garden is home to many a drought-tolerant flower, thanks to those who have sown the love of plants in my heart.

Despite the drought (read: we did not water our grass this year, and parts of the garden suffered the pinch), there were a few plants I wanted to show Mr Farjon, now that the plant whisperer had re-appeared after a 4-year absence.  

But it was difficult to concentrate on my guest, what with Smokey hovering between us. Like a gawky and attention-vying sibling who wants to join in, Smokey wagged his entire body, inching between my friend and me. His full body wag said I'm so happy to see you!, never mind the two had never met before. Indeed, it had been that long—a dog's life—since Mr Farjon last came to visit.

Despite the giant fly of a dog buzzing between us, I managed to speak to Mr Farjon.

"What have you got there?" I asked Monsieur. Waiting for the answer, I casually pushed Smokey aside, but the dog just wiggled back in again, so I gave in.  

Smokey and I watched as Mr Farjon selected a long and thorny stem from the pile of just-picked weeds beside him.

"It's a chardon. We call it chausse-trappe," he explained. With that, my friend told the story of how the plant got its name: the roman army dug ditches and filled them with this needle-sharp weed. And the poor used it as well, piling on rooftops....

"To keep away thieves?" I guessed. 

Mr Farjon shook his head, repeating, simply, that the dried plant was piled on housetops. (I guessed again: for insulation?)

As I tried to picture the thorny rooftops, Monsieur Farjon presented the next specimen, aigre-moine .

"Sour-monk" I mumbled, trying to translate the term.

As with each plant he brings, Monsieur took pains to point out where he had uprooted it. "Next to the telephone line. Beside the ditch—just up the street, after the fork in the road."

If I made the mistake of showing a blank look, Monsieur repeated himself, in addition to his usual stuttering, until I nodded convincingly "Yes, beside the telephone line, up the street--just after the fork in the road!" It seemed important to Monsieur that the plant's location was understood, and he insisted that certain plants were very rare these days. When new vineyards are planted, many of these rare plants are torn out. "You can find this plant by the telephone pole," Monsieur repeated, sending an unmistakable order that I should stop and observe the weed the next time I drove by.

"It contains tanin," Monsieur spoke a bit about the aigre-moine. "It was used to color wine." Just as I began to wonder whether or not to run and get Jean-Marc from the wine-cellar (wouldn't he love to know about this one?!), Mr Farjon set down yet another specimen.

"Epine du Christ."

"I remember that one," I said, softly. Mr Farjon had once showed me the thorny weed, otherwise known as "Christ's crown". It was this weed—found here in our neighborhood, that was used to torture Jesus.

We paused in time to move to the picnic table, where I asked Mr Farjon if he would note the names of the plants in today's lesson.

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As he wrote, I noticed his hands--the hands of a plant man! Long nails, perfect for pinching or cutting weed samples, and dirt beneath the tips--evidence of the morning's plant harvest!

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To some people, long soil-stained nails equal unkempt.  Others might notice the beauty of these nails, with their hard, smooth surface and elegant curve--perfect for scooping out a plant's delicate racine. As I stared at Mr Farjon's nails, I was unexpectedly envious. I wished my own nails were as healthy looking (though, admittedly, I couldn't own up to the caked dirt part--but that is only because I have not earned the right to wear dirt on my person--or under my nails. But a plant genius may sport soil wherever he pleases and the world would do well to respect him for it!)

As for Mr Farjon, he was oblivious to all the thoughts bubbling up in my head, thoughts about how and how not to appear to society. Thankfully, Monsieur's attention was focused on the task before him.

Watching him write, I had a hunch that the moment was something to capture. It may not have been history in the making, and this may not have been an historical figure, but the moment and the person were just as fascinating. I ran to get my camara.

It occured to me to try and capture a shot of the two of us, by using the automatic timer. I wished I had put on make-up or styled my hair, but that was a poor reason to miss capturing the moment. 

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The first photo didn't turn out, for my hand flew up as I fell down in the seat, just before the camara clicked.

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Voilà, the second photo worked. Notice Mr Farjon's concentration. He would eventually look up, to question what all my running back and forth was about.

  DSC_0342

"Now look into the lens," I said, coaching my subject.

 "I'm not photogenic," Mr Farjon demured.

"You are beautiful!" I assured him.

"My birthday is tomorrow," he confided. 

(He was turning 83.)

 

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The trusty Peugeot... I took a photo of the two when I first moved to Sainte Cécile. I didn't know Monsieur at the time, but thought I'd spotted an unforgettable character. (Now where is that photo... somewhere in the archives here.) 

 I sent Mr Farjon off with some samples from my own garden. He very much wanted the two kinds of chamomile growing there, gifts from the Dirt Divas. I tucked several dates inside the bag, for a sweet surprise--nourishment a plant genius needs while burning the midnight oil, poring over plantasauruses or thesauruses or dictionaries, rather. 

Then I watched as he rode off into the blue and green horizon.

DSC_0349

As Mr Farjon took a right at the end of the lavender row, I wondered if I would ever see this man again. And this, not because of his advancing age.

***

Click on the highlighted words in today's story to read the corresponding stories, such as "Love in a Cage" in which Monsieur asks: is your husband the jealous type? Click here.

Meet Mr Farjon's older brother, a wine farmer, in the story "to help out"

Meet several of Mr Farjon's "friends"--that is, the wild plants that grow in this part of Provence

Read about another visit from Mr Farjon, in the story "fleurette".

More garden posts here.

  DSC_0357

Mr Farjon's handwritten notes botaniques, above

Capture plein écran 14082012 121756
Here's the rest of that newspaper clipping that Mr. Farjon thoughtfully clipped for us.

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

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Woof woof! Bow wow! Aboiement (or how to say dog bark or barking in French)

comptoir at Le Bar de la Marine in Marseille France Vieux Port  (c) Kristin Espinasse
Nothing to do with today's word, just an iconic zinc bar in Marseilles: Le Bar de la Marine (made famous by Marcel Pagnol in his "Marius" Trilogy.

un aboiement (ah-bwa-mahn)

    : bark, barking (of dog)

Also: aboyer = to bark, un aboyeur (une aboyeuse) = a barking dog

Reverse dictionary: 
to bark up the wrong tree = porter plainte contre la mauvaise personne
his bark is worse than his bite = il fait plus de bruit que de mal 
 

Audio File: Today it is 17-year-old Max's voice you'll hear when you click on the following file and listen to this French sentence: Download MP3 or Wav file

Les aboiements de Smokey font peur aux bandits! Smokey's barking scares the bandits!


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

This morning I hurried downstairs to let out our dogs. I wasn't going to make the same mistake as yesterday by enjoying a rare grasse matinée. That extra thirty minutes sleep-in cost me a demi-heure of clean-up time after I was late helping Smokey get to his morning business. Quel dégât!

This time there were no suspicious odors wafting up the stairwell, and I reached le rez-de-chaussée to find the floors clear and dry. Ouf! The week was off to a good start!

"Good morning, doggers!" I offered my warm English greeting quickly followed by some serious French, "Allez les Toutous! Pipi dehors!"

Sliding open the porte-fenêtre in our kitchen, I was amused by the morning routine. Braise paused at the door, letting her son race past her. As Braise waited her turn she looked up at me, anticipating the usual acknowledgment.

"C'est bien, Braise! Très, très bien! Tu attends." I caressed her soft head and rubbed her floppy golden ears between my fingers. She is a sweet dog, if extremely pushy at times (mostly at snack time).

Comme d'habitude, Braise and I turned our attention to Smokey, who had bounded out of the house as fast as a cowboy surprised by bandits. Shooting from the hip—or all guns blazing—Smokey charged forward, propelled by a noisy gargle of aboiements:

OUAF-OUAF-OUAF-OUAF!!!!

Smokey's head shot in every direction, pulled this way and that by his flapping, toothy muzzle—out of which came the skinny dog's tirade of threats. The scene would be hair-raising if seen by any other perspective than our own.

Braise and I watched, unwilling to point out to our voluntary hero the obvious facts: there was, as usual, not a bandit in sight—not even a lowly field mouse sped by.  

Never mind. When Smokey reached the edge of the yellow, parched lawn—fitting of this wild west scene—he began pacing back and forth, coughing out a few more threats in his best impression of gardien. Down below, where the lawn drops off and the grape vines spread out in one great field of spectateurs, Smokey addressed his leafy audience. "I," he barked, "AM Top Dog!"

Braise and I looked at each other knowing very well the truth of the matter: though Smokey is top dog of our hearts, he could not hurt a top fly.

Meantime, he doesn't need to know that... 

"You tell 'em, Smokey! You tell 'em!" in the safety of Smokey's noisy wake, Braise and I cheer the underdog.  Handicapped since the tender age of two months old (his hanging tongue but a hint of les ravages he suffered) he has come a long way since that fateful day, when he crossed paths with a couple of lost and angry dogs who mistook him for an easy target....

What the aggressors failed to notice was the Top Mama nearby.

Braise saved her son that day. After being stapled back together and given a "good chance" of making it. Smokey did. Il a survécu

 ***

Read the story of a brave two month old golden retreiver, here.


FRENCH VOCABULARY

la grasse matinée
to sleep in

une demi-heure
half an hour

quel dégât
what a mess

le rez-de-chaussée
ground floor

ouf!
phew!

Allez les Toutous! Pipi dehors
Come on, dogs! Pee pee outside!

la porte-fenêtre
glass door 

C'est bien, Braise! Très, très bien! Tu attends.
That's good, Braise. Really, really good! You're waiting. 

comme d'habitude, or simply comme d'hab
as usual 

un aboiement
bark 

ouaf-ouaf
woof-woof, bow-wow 

le gardien, la gardienne
keeper, watchman(woman) 

les ravages (m)
ravages 

le spectateur, la spectatrice
onlooker, witness, audience 

il a survécu
he survived 

DSC_0033
You've come a long way, Baby. Smokey eventually healed on the outside. On the inside he seems to have gained back his confidence, as evidenced by his morning patrol.

 

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Since Smokey's frightening attack, Mother and Son regularly practice Self Defense for Dogs.

Braise: Son, mind your ears! You look more like the Flying Nun than Rambo!

Smokey: OK Mom, just trying to look scary. By the way, who is the Flying Nun?

 

DSC_0014
It takes many tender moments to rehabilitate a victim, especially a victimized animal.

DSC_0016
Smokey, left, says: "I can protect you, too, Mom."

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

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2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


chatier

"Rooster Thief" (c) Kristin Espinasse

"The Rooster Thief". The French sure have a way with window drama, as seen here (see the full photo, below). Today, read about an American chick in a French autoparts store... or try your luck... with the anecdote on offer in the following story column!

Please forward today's post to a dog lover or a wine lover or a France lover! Thanks!

Yabla French Video Immersion.
The fun way to learn French

châtier (sha-tee-yay)

    : to punish, chastise

Also:
châtié = polished (verse, style)
le châtiment corporel = corporal punishment 

Audio File: listen to Jean-Marc pronounce these words: Download MP3 or Wav file

Qui aime bien châtie bien.
Spare the rod and spoil the child.

Books, books, books! There are 12 or 13 rotating "book shelves" at the French Word-A-Day blog. Check out the current selection of French-themed reading, in the side-columns of the blog, here.
. 

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

Ain't Misbehavin!

Since the harvesters returned home, Jean-Marc has worked long days in the cellar, all on his own, but by the way he argues with the barrels and the vats and the wine--you'd think he was in good company!

I sometimes hear him, through the thick, 300-year-old walls that separate our home from the cave, as he hollers after those grapes! And I have to laugh, thinking of that favorite proverb of his: Qui aime bien châtie bien, or "Who loves well punishes well". Ouch, that does not sound like a good translation: how about this one: "Spare the rod, spoil the child"?

While Chief Grape has been busy disciplining his wine (and, by the way, did you notice that the last three letters in "misbehaVIN'" = "wine" in French? Enough said)... Yes, while Chief Grape is keeping his wine in line, Smokey is discovering what the harvesters have left behind. In addition to gâteaux and vêtements and chausseurs (we'll add them to The Glad Rags Bag!), there was this chapeau!...  

P1050442

Smokey says: Thank you, Caroline, for this hammy-down! (Caroline was this year's harvest queen. See her photo, below). By the way, Smokey would like to add, "Did you see my mom in the background? Elle s'ennuie! = She's bored!"

P1050438

Tattered chairs and tattered tongues. 

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Chut! Shhh! Don't tell Chief Grape where I am... Discipline is for grapes, not Goldens!

P1050441

Smokey says: "Even dogs have scars!" Most of you have read about Smokey's accident in 2009, when, as a two-month-old he was attacked by two big dogs.... Don't want to read about that? Then read about my parents "Great Escape": the story of Sailor Sam and Braise's honeymoon.

Le Coin Commentaires

Comments, corrections, and stories of your own are welcome here, in the comments box.

 

French Vocabulary

la cave = wine cellar

qui aime bien châtie bien = spare the rod and spoil the child

le gâteau = cake

le vêtement (les vêtements) = garment (clothing) 

la chaussure = shoe

elle s'ennuie = she's bored

chut! = shhh!

*Zee End: Au Revoir just now...* 

End Note: When you buy any item at Amazon, using the following links to enter the store, your purchase helps support this free French word journal. Thanks for keeping this in mind!

French Christmas
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Dragees

Une dragée = sugared almond. At every celebration (weddings, baptisms... ) these traditional French Almond Dragées are gobbled down by even the slenderest femme fatale (by the way, did you read my femme fatale story... about the ex-girlfriend that showed up at my wedding? Don't miss that one, click here! Even better when read while munching these dragées. Order the almond dragées or any other item, via this link

  Capture plein écran 28022011 085453Words in a French Life: Lessons in Love and Language from the South of France (My book! Dreams do come true!) "Beginning students of conversational French will profit from many of these brief entries, and supplemental tables of expressions go far to demystify French idioms for anyone wishing to speak and write more fluent French." -- Mark Knoblauch Tip: read the 10-page intro to this book... and learn about why Jean-Marc bought me a one-way ticket-along the lines of It's over, Baby!--back to the States!

 

Window Whimsy (c) Kristin Espinasse

Photo taken last August, in Serre Chevalier, in Monêtier-les-Bains... (near Briançon)

P1050344

Every year, Chief Grape takes time out from the busy harvest to make these leafy crowns for his harvest "hot shots" (those vendangeurs and vendangeuses who really shine among the vines!). He also makes the diplomas, like the one Caroline is holding. He really is proud of his entire team and it is never easy for him to have to choose a harvest king or queen. Félicitations, Caroline, for earning this year's leafy trophy! (To see our harvest king, click here and scroll to the end of the page.)

 

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


se moquer de quelqu'un

Sabot in the Window (c) Kristin Espinasse

An old sabot along Rue du Planet in the village of Buis-les-Baronnies (where I learned to knit the other week). Notice all the elements of a French window: painted shutters, lace curtains, tiles on window sill, wooden lintel, whimsical object (here, and old sabot... and did you see that spider web trailing out of the shoe?! ) Anything missing from this cozy, homey, fenêtre

.

se moquer de quelqu'un (seuh moh kay deuh kel kuhn)

    : to poke fun at somebody, to tease, to pull somebody's leg

 

Audio file & Example Sentence: Download MP3 or Wav file

Tu te moques de moi? Are you making fun of me? 

.

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

Vexé Comme Un Pou (Mad as a louse -- or Hopping Mad!)


Dear Mr. Chief Grape,

Tant pis pour toi! Too bad for you! Because of an ill-chosen word (a "term of endearment" you argue?)... you will not have le privilège of sporting my very first knitting experiment... 
. 

P1030985
 

...but Smokey will!!!

No. These are not garment goggles...
The headband that I had been working on for you (to keep your precious locks out of your eyes when pulling all those weeds out from between the grapevines)... that work-in-progress bandeau took a swift deviation when my knitting needles froze, midair, on hearing your flippant commentaire.

Alors -- Next time you stride into the room and notice your wife, her hands twisted like a pretzel, clutching a pair of slippery knitting needles, or aiguilles, yes, next time you see her eyes croisés in concentration, her fingers foaming from frustration... 

Resist! 

Resist such cheeky commentary as this: "Ça va, Mamie?"--or lose your right to wear an original, artisinal, (hysterical?) "yarn headpiece". My first!  

Voila, Mr. Chief Grape, Ça t'apprendra! Yes, that ought to teach you to hold your tongue so as to avoid doozies such as "How's it goin', Granny?" 

So now, let's be clear as cataracts: I AM NOT YOUR MAMIE!

Got that? Tu pige? Meantime, your loss is Smokey's gain! Ol' Smok-A-Roo seems pleased with his  fashion accessory, which he deems "a little bit rock-n-roll, a little bit litterary" (he hears David Bowie started the trend, after James Joyce... in fact, after a long loopy STRING! of elegant men.

P1030969

Quelle allure! Yarn + fur! Smokey is a fashion victime in the true sense of the word!

 

P1030996

Furthermore, Smokey appreciates that "rough edge", that air de mystère that the hand-knit head garment affords him.... (now if he could only afford a pair of scissors to release him from it...)

P1030993 

So, Mr. Chief Grape, it is bye-bye bandau! Your would-be headband now belongs to this glam ham! Smokey is so pleased with his accoutrement that he has even put in an order for another merveille ... knit from no other than "mémé"!

(He would humbly like to request a knitted sling, or une écharpe-langue for that droopy tongue of his (the aftermath, or les séquelles, of a horrible accident from his puppyhood).

Hey Mr. Chief Grape -- maybe you, too, could benefit from a homemade tongue-sling? It might hold that loose tongue of yours in place!

Bisous,

"Mamie"

 

Related Blog Posts (click on the titles to read them)

"Learning to Knit". A shopkeeper takes the time to teach.

"Wounded": Our dog Smokey's accident.

 Related Books:

Capture plein écran 21072011 180505

Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter. Since the upsurge in knitting began in the early '90s, the number of women under 45 who knit has doubled. Knitting is no longer a hobby for just grandmothers-women and men of all ages are embracing this art. Describing its allure is best left to Stephanie who explains: "It is a well-known fact that knitting is a sparkling form of entertainment, as spiritual as yoga, as relaxing as a massage, and as funny as Erma Bombeck trapped in a PTA meeting." Order the "Yarn Harlot" book.

 

 

Selected French Vocabulary
(feel free to add more terms to the comments box!) 

tant pis pour toi! = too bad for you!

le privilège = privilege

le bandeau = headband

le commentaire = comment

alors = so then

croisé = crossed

une aiguille = needle (sewing)

une aiguille à tricoter = knitting needle

ça va, mamie? = how's it going, granny?

la mémé = granny

tu piges? (piger) = get it?

une merveille = marvel, wonder

bisous = kisses (love)

 

Reverse dictionary

to hold one's tongue = tenir sa langue

 

DSC_0040
Behind the scenes... see the poised and finished photo here.

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***

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***
Further Reading:
Check out Lee's story about her visit to Domaine Rouge-Bleu!

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

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1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
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For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


affolement & Recipe for Zucchini and Potato Gratin

Balcony in Nyons (c) Kristin Espinasse
I heart lonely chairs. More pictures of Nyons in an upcoming Cinéma Vérité.

affolement (ah-fol-maohn) noun, masculine

: panic, perturbation, unsteadiness

verb: affoler: to cause panic and s’affoler: to panic.
.

Sound file & Example Sentence Download MP3 or Download WAV

Pour l'instant, l'heure n'est pas à l'affolement.
Now's not the time to worry.

 

 

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

Affolement, it is the French word for panic—that feeling of s-p-i-n-n-i-n-g!

Part one of the wine harvest begins this week and the first team of harvesters are arriving e-a-r-l-y. And though I have been keeping notes (grocery lists and "choses à faire") it is impossible to pencil in the unexpected or l'imprévu, no matter how often my crayon hovers over the lists, trying to anticipate fate.

Who? What? Where? When? Why? How? are no longer a journalist's formula: these are the "askings" of an anxious organizer. As I jot down mind matter (all those pensées that prevent peace) I can't help but remember "the best made plans" and wonder whether these lists aren't partly in vain? De plus, I am learning that dotting the i's and crossing the t's of rigidity (there's that word again) only ever ends in flurry: Dame Chaos will invite herself to la fête so one might as well join in and get used to whim! (Never mind that I have scotch-taped myself into place, in preparation for a flurry of fate.)

***

In other, more important news, Jean-Marc, who, for the next month—and for the duration of the wine harvest—will be known as "Chief Grape," had a tiny run-in with fate: while readying his farm equipment he was stung (just over the eyebrow) by une guêpe! It is painful just looking at him and all that ballooning of skin.

I look into his eyes, one no bigger that a sliver:
"Does it hurt?" I ask, pushing aside my list.
"Non, c'est juste un peu gênant." No, it's just a little annoying, he replies.

And somehow his answer strikes... lines through my lists... taking all this "chaos" and putting it, somehow, right.

 

French Vocabulary

un affolement = panic

chose à faire = things to do (list)

imprévu (adj and n.m.) = unforeseen, unexpected

le crayon = pencil

la pensée = thought

de plus = what's more

la fête = party

la guêpe = wasp

    => learn a quirky tip, or une astuce about getting rid of guêpes, or wasps. Click here for the story "Uninvited Guests Guêpes"

non, c'est juste un peu gênant = no, it just a little annoying
 

A Day in a Dog's Life... by Smokey "R" Dokey


DSC_0008

Today I get my staples and stitches removed! In anticipation of the event, I've "loosened"  a part of my cone (exhibit A, above. Notice the jagged plastic, next to my teeth!).

DSC_0015

All in a day's work!

RECIPE: Gratin de Courgette & Pomme de Terre

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Have I showed you a photo of my brother-in-law lately? He and his girlfriend came over yesterday. Mariem helped me put together a casserole for dinner as we sat at the kitchen table slicing zucchini and potatoes and chatting about "quick and easy harvest recipes!"

When the slicing was done, Mariem added a little olive oil to the glass baking dish and the two of us went about layering the vegetables, knocking hands as we worked.

We began with a layer of thinly-sliced potatoes, then a layer of zucchini... then salt and pepper and a tiny pouring of cream (we mixed store-bought béchamel + heavy cream, a.k.a. what was on hand.) Mariem's five-year-old boy joined in and I watched, awed, as the vegetables disappeared into the casserole dish. Finally, we topped the legumes with one last sprinkling of salt and pepper and the remains of the cream... then into the oven (150°C -- or 300°F) for one hour.

I had some garden fresh tomatoes on hand (a gift from my friend Houria) and we tossed those with olive oil (a gift from Alexis, who is back, joining us for this harvest) and parsley and salt and pepper. A light dinner or, as the French would say juste ce qu'il faut...

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A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety


enflure

hats or chapeaux in Sicily (c) Kristin EspinasseShade in Sicily. More photos of Italy in this weekend's Cinema Vérité.

enflure (on-fler) noun, feminine

: swelling (of cheek, etc)

also enfler (to swell) and enflé = (swollen)

Sound File and Example SentenceDownload Wav or MP3

Notre chien a été piqué par une abeille. Sa "bosse," c'est l'enflure d'une piqûre. Our dog was stung by a bee. His "bump," it is the swelling of a sting.

 

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

"Bobbing for Bees in Elizabethan France"

DSC_0010

Smokey is doing just fine after Friday's "stitching up" chez la vétérinaire (this following his attack by two dogs last fall. The first surgery, which left him with staples across the neck and the cheek, also left behind one stubborn wound, which would not close).  

If his furry face is swollen, this has more to do with curiosity than with surgery: on Saturday morning our Golden happened upon the honey hive!

Manque de chance! I had just fitted the one-year-old rescapé with one of those plastic head cones or "e-collars,"(e" for "Elizabethan," after the resemblance of the cone to Elizabethan-era fashion). Such space collars are designed to keep a dog from licking its wounds or, worse, from scratching them.

(We won't go into details regarding the farce involved in assembling a deceptively simple e-collar. Bref, it is a wonder more pet owners don't end up wearing them—as one does a straitjacket—for by the time the enigma of all those flaps and all those buckles has been solved, Insanity's onset is apparent in the e-cone assembler.)

Having fitted the cone around Smokey's neck, I stepped outside for some needed air in the garden, where I noticed how quickly our pup adjusted, undertaking normal activities (eating, roughhousing with Mama Braise, adventuring) unhindered by the constrictive cone circling his head.

DSC_0003

Satisfied, I turned my back on the dogs and went about a few chores in the flower patch: the belles-de-nuit were ready for seed-harvesting and the cherry tomatoes (propped up with the help of the hollyhock's trunk) had a new crimson crop on offer. I tossed a few tomates cerises into my mouth while discovering the latest developments in the jardin.

My eardrums began to tickle and I turned to have a look at the front gate. Commotion in the periphery of my gaze had my eyes darting over to the wooden beehive, where Smokey had just stuck his head! Next, I saw our dog spring backwards from la ruche! He threw his coned head to and fro, then, on hind legs, he reached his front paws forward and began swatting (in vain...). That is when I understood or "got it": our patient had bees in his bonnet!

I took off running, my own arms flailing and swatting while a high pitch issued from deep inside of me, a mad and murderous menace directed at those bees! All that shaking and shrieking soon sent the swarm to pick on other life forms. As the bees settled on the lavender and the last of the sunflowers, I knelt down to look at Smokey's face, just beyond the not-so-protective cone.  Calm eyes starred back at me.

Stoic Smokey had not so much as yelped for help—not even when the two-legged tornado chasing him and those bees quit spinning—at which point he pushed his nose past the limits of the e-cone and kissed the dizzy woman, recognizing her as his own.

DSC_0017

Le Coin Commentaires
Corrections, comments, and stories of your own are most welcome. Thank you for leaving messages in this comments box.

French Vocabulary

chez la (le) vétérinaire = at the veterinarian's
manque de chance! = bad luck
le (la) rescapé = the survivor
bref = in brief
la belle-de-nuit = "lady of the night" flower
la tomate cerise = cherry tomato
le jardin = garden
la ruche = beehive

 

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A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety