The start of a new day

This morning has begun with birds singing, sheep bleating, and cows mooing. All sound the same in French, but then I (Vicki) don't understand much in - and speak even less of - this beautiful language, so they could be saying something else than American birds, sheep, and cows say. It's 60 degrees F, according to weather.com, and the air is light and clean. We had a gentle rain last night, which was lovely. There has been a lot of rain this year, so the grounds are lush and beautiful.



I woke from my very long nap yesterday afternoon just in time for apéritif. We were joined by Giles, a retired farmer, who comes around every day to say hello - and, coincidentally, at just the right time to share a pastis. Mohammed is here, of course, making his magic in the kitchen. At dinner, we had a delicious smoked chicken, some potatoes, green beans cooked in butter and garlic, and, of course, lots of bread. A course of various cheese (including a very ripe Brie) followed, and all was washed down with wonderful regional red wine. Things here just taste better somehow.

After dinner, we were visited by Slyman (pronounced slee-mon) who is a most animated philosopher responsible for making l'eau de vie. Eau de vie is a highly flammable moonshine, the recipe for which is legally passed down to the males of each generation in specific families. (Slyman says that while women haven't received as many rights in France, we did gain ability to wear pants like men; now, unlike men, we don't really have to wear much at all!). Only certain families can make eau de vie. I think that Slyman and his eau de vie will join us for the Fourth of July celebration. Gabi will be here as well, so I anticipate a night of drinking, eating, and lots of very good conversation.

We talk about many things as we sit around the table after dinner: the French educational system, albino crocodiles, pythons, hedgehogs and how they taste, politics in France and in les Etats-Unis... The conversation meanders and flows like a river. It's an art that we in the States seem to have lost.

Location:La Giraudière,La Tourlandry,France