A Fourth Pause in Lent 2014

Lent is coming along nicely - I have ordered my leg of Easter lamb from the butcher's!

I am also finding your Pause in Lent posts so helpful. It was Gaz's post last week that really kept me thinking.

I stopped off in our local church on Tuesday (market day) and lit candles for our family and for my father and his wife. If candles aren't from your tradition, well, neither are they from mine. But the prayer next to the candelabrum says it all, I think.

Here's my rough translation:

Lord, let this candle which I light be a beacon for you to illuminate my joy,
Let it burn so that you rekindle my heart,
Let it shine so that you burn away all my selfishness, pride and impurity.

Lord, I cannot stay long in your church.
This burning candle that I leave is part of me that I want to give to you.
Help me to prolong my prayer in my activities today.

Amen

What all came together for me (as part of Gaz's comments on sacrifice, and the prayer about leaving part of yourself for God) was the realisation that sacrifice isn't always painful. There are willing and happy sacrifices we make every day. A mother's life could be described as one long sacrifice - the needs of her children put ahead of her own. The fact that it doesn't feel like that most of the time is because it's a very happy and worthwhile sacrifice made for people we love. This year Ben has sacrificed a lot (including earnings) to study again. I have sacrificed a lot to let him go off to Lyon every week to do this, if I really think about it, but it's both gladly done and gratefully received, which really makes it all worth it. Perhaps we avoid offerning our whole lives as a sacrifice to God because we think it will lead to one long existence of strain and struggle. What if it isn't? What if the day to day sacrifices we make will just draw us closer in love, companionship and understanding?

Marie-Antoinette and the Midden

In the middle of our town there is a church. Next to the church there is an old school. Next to the old school there is a play centre. Next to the play centre there is a car park. And in the car park there is a hole.

 

Holes in the ground may be a nuisance to some, but to an archaeology-lover they are a magnet! I know that before the old school (1900s) and play centre (1920s) were built, this area was the livestock market. Son 2 studied photos of it in school, looking at how life has changed since the days when farmers drove their cattle and geese into our town for sale down the hill from the church.

Ben and I were passing the other weekend and decided that the ‘stuff’ piled up next to the hole was just too interesting to ignore. We spotted a huge ox shoulder-blade and many other bones, indicating that meat as well as livestock was sold around here.

 

There’s so much ‘stuff’ in the hole – in layers as you can see – that it’s clear that the area was covered with rubbish at some point, probably to form a base before the car park surface was laid.

It’s hard to pin down exactly when the layers were formed, but we seem to have a ‘pre-school’ market layer, and a ‘post-school’ layer of 1950s and 1960s bits and bobs which probably just pre-date the car park.

You might feel that rubbish from within living memory is, well, just, rubbish, but it’s from a very desirably ‘retro’ period and tells more about life in our town in those days than finding the same things on a Vide Grenier stall, so I rather enjoyed peering through the fences and picking out a few things from the spoil heap.

Well-washed, they look rather special around the house.

Four little bottles, glittering, iridescent and impossible to capture in a photo.

 

And Marie-Antoinette, a Limoges ‘cameo’ – a very popular and inexpensive form of jewellery from the 1950s and ’60s - although I can’t find a photo of this specific cameo on the net, there are many, many others for sale, some of them in the little bronze setting which has corroded around this fragment. I bet someone was upset when this broke – maybe she still lives in our town! Wouldn’t she be amazed that her treasure has resurfaced after all these years?

Bryony, Brambles and Honeysuckle

Son 1 and I took the increasingly elderly Raja for a walk on the Coulée Verte this evening. After a cool day (not above 25°C) she was full of energy and we had a great time - and the combination of these wild climbers was a beautiful sight.

My mum loved 'things climbing through things' in her garden, and I feel that these three live up well to her philosophy of gardening! They were very high up - we won't be able to pick the blackberries when they come, but they do look like they're going to be juicy...

Community Rentrée and a Sad Story

The whole of our town (well, the whole of France in fact) marks the rentrée with a rash of exciting events and things to join in with. The Forum des Associations (Clubs Fair) is on Saturday, but I've already found something to take part in: a Town Photography Competition!

The Willows are on the case, of course:

It's more their scene than the whole back-to-school thing, anyway.

The topic for the competition is the 'hidden heritage' of our town, so I'm really showing you a few photos I snapped this morning that don't quite fit that category - I need to save anything I think I might enter. I loved the cosy quilt on the bench outside the maternelle canteen! Really welcoming...

I spent a long time in the graveyard (I'd never been in before), looking for this boy. I can't tell you his name, because our street is named after him, and I don't want to publish our address. This poor boy, aged 15 or 16 (and therefore the same age as Son 1) was shot in Nazi reprisals following an ambush on a convoy just outside our town. He ran into the street by the church shouting, 'Don't shoot, don't shoot!' Ben thinks the marks left by machine-gun bullets raking across the wall are still there:

It's sobering indeed to remember that this is the fairly recent past of our town. Britian had it hard during the Second World War, but we knew nothing like this.

So I found his family tomb, and although it may seem a very gloomy way to have spent my morning, in fact I felt in tune with our town, and paid my respects to someone who, as part of our address, almost feels part of our family, too.

A week away from blogging - and those tins!

Thanks for your encouraging comments about my new blog header and background, and also about my blogging break. I don't know if you ever find that you feel a bit out-of-sorts, and that the internet is becoming a prop which attempts (and fails) to improve how you feel? When I get like that, I know it's time for a week's break. Here is the story of this last week:

Shortly after I signed off, Son 1 and I decided to pop into the Troc Shop on our way past. They are usually pretty short of vintage stuff, normally veering between useful modern stuff, modern tat and antiques, so I was stunned to see this wonderful set of canisters there for 25€.

Far more than I would usually pay to add to my collection, but far more beautiful (and also more complete) than anything else I own. I was given 25€ for my birthday, so the canisters are now mine, and have inspired my first ever change of blog design, too!

On Saturday night we had an unexpected gift – the boys were invited to sleep over with a friend, so I booked (by executive decision) a table at the best restaurant in our town. As Ben loves good food and I usually book cheaper places, I knew this would be well received!

He and I spent the afternoon doing coupley-type things, choosing new glasses for him, buying some kit for our forthcoming camping trip, and trying on, but failing to buy, sandals. We dashed back from the optician’s to get changed and walked out, through the Coulée Verte, to the restaurant. Having been warned there was a wedding party I was anxious that we might not get a seat outside, in the old open barn, but the wedding party had checked the forecast and decided to go indoors! Ben and I therefore celebrated both my birthday (late) and our 22nd wedding anniversary (early) by eating a fantastic meal, drinking velvety wine, and not getting wet despite the flash thunder-storm. The wedding party was small and very sweet – an older man (very dashing) was marrying a woman a little younger (extremely tasteful lace dress) and their children and a few grandchildren made up the party. Other diners included one of Ben’s bosses!

After we’d finished our leisurely meal we strolled back through the town, as the Coulée Verte was too wet underfoot for a return journey in decent shoes. This gave us the opportunity of passing through the town’s youth music festival, which was actually well-attended by adults too. We spent most of our time (in the light rain) looking at le train d’enfer, a wonderfully old-fashioned fairground side-attraction, the aim being to push the skeletal train model up a steep track into the flaming mouth of hell… This and a few other old-French-style attractions were presented by exquisite young adults in black and white stripes, berets, skull carnival masks and other stunningly stylish accoutrements. Their every move was like something from a silent film, and the overall presentation was so different to a modern fairground. One game was a variation on what the Brits call ‘Bash the Rat’, but this time, children had to stab a speeding saucisse with a fork as it came down the tube! We watched one child win his saucisse, and then decided to head for home.

Sunday was quite a different day, with Ben heading off to the Netherlands with the aforementioned boss, and the boys coming home rather on the tired and ratty side… I did pop out to the weekly Vide Grenier that calls itself a Marché de Puces, and came home with some lovely bargains – usually, prices are quite steep there, but everyone seemed to be clearing out granny’s attic this week! I’ll post pictures when I’ve taken them… but immediately after coming home, I lost the camera! I know I only put it down briefly, but can we find it...?

Blueberries

The sun has come back (thanks for your kind hopes in that direction) and Thursday afternoon is a time I usually try to spend with Son 2, who doesn't have lessons after lunch on Thursdays. What better way to spend time in mid-June sunshine than to cycle off together to the local blueberry farm?

We greeted Madame, the elderly mother of the farmer, as we cycled in though her rustic gateway. She was sitting in the shade, wearing a housecoat and a fine straw hat with a blue ribbon, reading a book. Another good way to spend a sunny afternoon! Son 2 and I picked 1.8 kilos of blueberries (and ate a few grams more) and had a throwing competition with a few unripe berries that had come off in our hands. He won, but I won the pickers' prize.

Interestingly, Son 2 doesn't actually eat blueberries. He's an arch-conservative of the taste world, prefering a very limited range of flavours and textures. However, he was tempted (who wouldn't have been?) to try the fruits of his labours, and asked if I thought it was a good idea. I encouraged him to give it a go, and to expect an unusual flavour, which wasn't to be interpreted as a bad taste... he popped a really ripe berry cautiously into his mouth and promptly had a dizzy spell! He and I were both mystified by this, but I suppose it may have been an adrenalin reaction to trying something new. He said the taste wasn't exactly that bad! Tomorrow morning (thanks to a cancelled lesson) I shall get baking...

Carving out a name for themselves...

There are some quite creative municipal workers around our town.

I'm not sure if it was planned or if they just got a bit chain-saw-happy last time they were sent down to the Coulée Verte to sort out the fallen trees,

,

but our walks with Raja around the local stream are now enlivened by a trunk-bench

and a chair.

Or model toilet, if you prefer! Whatever it is the lizard likes it...

Thanks for all your crazy comments on my Flossgate post! I am still kind of wishing I never followed Ang's link...

Ramshackle

Underneath the cedar trees

stands a ramshackle collection of buildings.

A shed/garage and an out-house toilet,and a teeny, tiny, ramshackle house.Ben dreams of buying the land and building on to the tiny house,my dream is more realistic in the short-term:to make a photographic record of the wild flowers that flourish around the house each spring.There's not much here to photograph, yet,But we walk past it on that little path many times a week, so I think this is an attainable challenge for the coming Spring!

A week of snow in the south of France

Well, how unexpected! It's snowed here at some point over each of the last few winters, and winter 2010 was pretty heavy... but in general, snow is not much seen down here.

What's unexpected this time is that the snow not only fell...

... but it lasted!

Finally, we have a lot of birds visiting our feeders.

If Eeyore really lived in that little hut (above right), he'd have reason to be miserable. In fact, it houses the pool filtering equipment. But I like to imagine Eeyore there.

Look away now if you don't like mice!

I'm perfectly happy if they stay outside, but I'm afraid some of this one's relatives strayed indoors and tried to steal our Christmas chocolates. They Are No More...

When the snow started falling, over a week ago now, Son 1 was excited enough to get a wellie boot on one foot and a trainer on the other, and wrap up warm enough to shuffle around the garden on his crutches. Raja followed, doggedly.

Now we're at the stage where a thin layer of snow or, worse, ice has sat over everything for about a week. Crutches are out of the question, so Son 1 is stuck back indoors and, when I'm not working, we're playing endless but enjoyable games of Carcassone. At the moment, I'm winning the latest round...Don't forget to enter my giveaway in the post below, to win four little collections of French vintage goodies!

Maître des Crèpes

Or Crèpemeister, or whatever you want! This is Son 2: When he first arrived in France their little 'French as a second language' book gave them a recipe for crèpes and he's been helping me make them ever since. Now he's pretty much independent, and as he's such a perfectionist he prefers the way he makes them, anyway!

Yesterday was Candlemas, la Chandeleur in French. That's the French Pancake Day, so it was handy that Son 2 came home from school early to take possession of the kitchen. The cause was this:Just enough snow to keep the teachers from further out of town from getting in for their lessons!Son 1 and his knee say 'Hi'! We spent yesterday evening eating pancakes and playing Carcasonne. It's not such a hard life...

Happy Christmas!

"The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine."

Isaiah 9 verse 2.

Have a wonderful Christmas, friends!