Entries from April 2007 Shelter for a cart on its last abri ah-bree noun, masculine shelter, cover; screenJe répète...celui qui aime et qui est aimé est à l'abri des coups du sort!I repeat...he who loves and who is loved is sheltered from fateful blows! -Alfred de Musset. At the end of a swaying line of yellow irises, their green feet tickled by a slow moving rivulet, I saw our neighbor."Come on over," Mr. Delhome called out, indicating the makeshift bridge. "I have something for madame." Jean-Marc and I stepped off the path that we had been following during an evening husband approached the stream, stepped onto the first of two overlapping wooden crates before catching my hand as I put one foot then the other across the planked pont.*Our neighbor was planting a row of trees along the south end of a parcel of vines, just across the field and over the stream from our house. I noticed a flowering lilac bush, newly planted, its scented blossoms as white as the peak of Mont Ventoux which we could see in the distance. I wondered why Monsieur Delhome had taken the trouble to decorate this corner of an immense field. It wasn't as if there was a potager* to enjoy alongside it. Peep's* garden was just down the creek, below an immense plane tree; now that would be a nice place for a lilac bush! And Mr. Delhome might enjoy his flowers more often at that end-Peep being Mr Delhome's father. But here, far across the field from Peep's garden, there was only row on row of vines which mimicked the rows of vines all around and off into the vine horizon. One would only come here to tend grapevines, and yet there is a lovely lilac plant to soothe the eyes on a scorching trunk of Mr. Delhome's car was open and a few tiny trees remained. It seemed he was planting an oliveraie* in the lonely space between the vines and the creek. "You'll need to plant it "à l'abri du Mistral,"* monsieur said, offering me what looked like an olive branch tucked into a small black neighbor might as well have offered me a cozy wingback chair in which to read a favorite book, or a patchwork quilt to use by the fireside the organic gift triggered the same comforting delight."Je...je suis... Merci beaucoup, monsieur!" I tried to imagine where we would put the little olive tree amidst the tractors and piles of broken cement. Now six weeks into renovation, the front terrace of our farmhouse is a stockyard of old doors, wooden crates, and broken if reading my mind, monsieur offered, "If you don't have a place for it right now," he said of the delicate tree, "you can put it in a protective clay pot. It just needs shelter from the Mistral."I stared at the little olive branch which was as fragile as a vagabond's heart. And when the wind howls, as it will-whether across an empty plain or within a veinard's* soul when luck runs out-each needs a quiet abri.*Monsieur's message, if not intended for a mere mortal, was not lost on me. I tucked it away, not knowing when this simple truth might sing to a weatherworn spirit. And then there was today...............................................................................................References le pont m = bridge; le potager m = kitchen garden; Peep = pronunciation for the French word for pipe-which hangs from the corner of this man's mouth and afterwhich he is called; une oliveraie f = olive plantation; à l'abri du Mistral = sheltered from the Mistral wind; veinarde = lucky devil; un abri m = shelter Audio File Listen to my daughter, Jackie, recite today's quote Download Je répète...celui qui aime et qui est aimé est à l'abri des coups du sort!. Related Terms & Expressions un abribus = bus shelter un abri-garage = carport l'abrivent = windbreak un abri bétonné = bunker prendre abri = to take cover le sans-abri = homeless personIn StoreThe Olive Farm by Carol DrinkwaterA Good Year soundtrackTraditional Savon de Marseille Olive oil Soap block in decorative tin A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety A little lifetime ago my daughter when she was two. Taken in Morhiban, sur-luh-shom adverbial phrase immediately, right away, without delay, directlySi le soleil et la lune se mettaient à douter, ils s'éteindraient the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they'd immediately go out. -William Blake. On the last leg of a daylong journey, one beginning at a Gallo-Roman amphitheater* in Paris's Latin quarter and ending eight hours later in our medieval hometown, I sent myself flowers* figuratively speaking, as the French do when they want to congratulate themselves via a verbal patting on the back."Did you guys just see that?" I questioned my kids as we cleared the toll booth. Having overtaken several long rows of cars, I sped into a fluidifil,* or automatic payment lane, as indicated by the "CB"* sign on the portico. Normally I get slightly panicked as I approach a multilaned French toll plaza, unsurethat I will have time to find the corresponding booth amidst lanes labeled "T,"* "CB," or with an icon representing coins or a man in a hat-the latter indicating that an actual human will help you with the payment transaction.My sur-le-champ* manoeuver that whisked our car to the front of the pack had me feeling uncharacteristically smug. Rarely do I find pleasure in one-upping the French one, because outwitting, like math, does not come easy to me and two, because I majored in philosophy at Looney Tunes University-that is, I enjoyed too many cartoons as a kid. You know what happens to Wile E. Coyote, self-pleased smile painted across his furry face, the minute he eclipses Road Runner dumb as a dart, he hits a pole.Still gloating from my victory, I offered to reveal the modus operandi behind it all brainpower."You've just witnessed your mommy's brains in action!" said I, leaving the line-waiters in a puff of invisible exhaust. I was still patting my own back when I received my daughter's sharp retort."What brains?" she wanted to snickered and I had to admit that the quippy comeback, delivered in English, was a pretty good riposte for a nine-year-old little puzzled by our chuckles, my daughter rephrased her question, this time in her native tongue "Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire "brains? What does "brains" mean?" It turns out that she only wanted to know the French word for gray matter cerveau.*I realized from her reaction that my daughter is like Road Runner. Let the Dumbdarts and Know-It-Alls pass by and eventually hit their heads on the pole, as for her, she is building her own totem of wisdom-one word at a time.....................................................................................................................References ampitheater learn more here; to send oneself flowers to compliment oneself = in French s'envoyer des fleurs; un fluidifil from "fluide" and "fil" = fluid moving line; CB la carte bancaire = bank card, credit card; T télépéage = automatic lane for those holding a special electronic card; sur-le-champ = immediate; le cerveau m = brain Audio file Si le soleil et la lune se mettaient à douter, ils s'éteindraient sur-le-champ. .French productsRoger & Gallet Signature Mini Guest Soaps - tip store the soap in linens closets, sock drawers, etc... and freshen up the frowsty air!Moulins de la Brague Extra Virgin Oil in Tin BoxIn music Chimène Badi A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety On Sunday the French voted in mairies/town halls across the isoloir eezo-lwahr noun, masculine curtained voting, polling boothA Day in a French Life... by Kristin EspinasseApril 24, 2007 I am in Sainte Cécile for the week visiting my husband who has been holding down the French fort—a fragmented one at that, what with with ceilings coming uncemented and doors dropping like dragonflies. By the time the kids and I move to the wine farm this summer most of the gros travaux will be done we hope. In the midst of renovation, surrounded by fallen walls and broken beams, I type this message on a computer covered with dust and debris. Here, in a makeshift office, one as foreign to me as an AZERTY keyboard once was, I try to go with the flow, to catch a steady, if rushing, current that will allow me to move forward with my work. Dust motes enter the room like unruly thoughts seeping into the brain. The poussière settles onto the piles, piles which cannot find order as there is no place to store or arrange anything in this hollowed out home. Je ne peux pas travailler comme ça!, I decide, pushing the keyboard away. My husband's stapler tumbles to the floor. Crash! The noise startles me in time to see the situation with fresh eyes. The situation is that today and everyday I want to capture the streaming scene before me, to paint this picture in prose and not without passion. Up to now, I have set down one condition for my writing silence. I might as well have shackled my fingers, arrested any creative "rumblings from within" right there on the ever-so-silent spot. It is time to cast away the "conditions" and to focus now on this idea to be able to create during an upheaval, that is true freedom. To be too finicky with the "where and when," the "how I will work" in a quiet room, when the kids are asleep; in an airy studio, creativity uncorked with a glass of wine is to take one's freedom and feed it to the fish. Write where you are, paint where you are planted and let mood, not merlot, alter the mind. Forget isolation; you are in the stream of things, riding that current. The fish may be hungry and chasing, but you are doing your work anyway. That is of freedom, the French voted over the weekend. On Sunday morning we were standing inside the Town Hall, shaking hands with a senator who, along with our mayor, was greeting villagers as they waited to cast their vote. Jean-Marc seized the opportunity to explain the voting process to our children. I stood close by, hoping to learn a thing or two about les élections présidentielles.* "Those are the candidates," Jean-Marc began, pointing to the twelve stacks of paper lining the center of a fold-out table. "You take one printed slip of paper from each stack, then go and hide behind that curtain there," Jean-Marc explained, pointing to the voting booth."Once inside the isoloir,* you crumple up the slips with the names of candidates that you do not want to win. Then, you tuck the remaining billet* into the blue envelope, exit the isoloir and place it in that see-through urne* over there." "But do you have to take all twelve slips of paper?" Max wants to know. "No," Jean-Marc answers, but it is the tradition. "In case voters do not take all twelve slips, there is someone in charge of leveling the stacks of paper so that voters aren't swayed by the most popular candidate." My son's question brings up the point of paper waste and I wonder if this is why electronic voting has recently been introduced in many towns across look past the curtained isoloirs to the patriots who form a line that extends out the door, down the stone steps and into the town square where a quartet of iron swans seem to cry out "Vive la France!"* -their tears filling the moss-covered fountain to the delight of the littlest Frenchmen whose hands draw circles across its surface. I watch as those circles fan out into so many question marks across the fountain's surface as if to echo a question which ripples across the country Qui sera le futur président de la France? ...........................................................................................................un gros travaux m = major work; azerty = a type of keyboard used in certain Francophone countries, so named for the first six keys across the letter board; la poussière f = dust; je ne peux pas travailler comme ça! = I cannot work under these conditions!; les élections présidentielles f = presidential elections; un isoloir m = voting booth; un billet m = ticket; une urne f = ballot box Vive la France! = Long live France!; Qui sera le futur président de la France? = Who will be the future president of France?J'ai l'intention de vivre ma vie tel un homme obéissant, mais obéissant à Dieu, en accord avec la sagesse de mes ancêtres; mais jamais sous l'autorité de verités politiques toutes récemment découvertes dans l'isoloir. I mean to live my life an obedient man, but obedient to God, subservient to the wisdom of my ancestors; never to the authority of political truths arrived at yesterday at the voting booth. -William F. Buckley, Jr. Audio file Listen to Jean-Marc recite today's quote Download J'ai l'intention de vivre ma vie tel un homme obéissant, mais obéissant à Dieu, en accord avec la sagesse de mes ancêtres; mais jamais sous l'autorité de verités politiques toutes récemment découvertes dans l'isoloir. * * *Thoughts on writing, from today's story, were inspired by a book that I just devoured, Woman in Front of the Sun On Becoming a Writer by Judith Ortiz Cofer. If you are a writer or artist, or want to be, then don't miss the chapter "The Woman Who Slept with One Eye Open". More on this book, here. A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety At the end of today's story, I landed here in Paris. In addition to my writing voice, I am working on my reading voice which, I realize, is a bit formal read stiff as a day-old baguette. I hope to slow the voice down, relax a bit. Even so, I'm afraid I'll never talk like Nancy Sinatra or how I imagine she might talk after walking in such carefree boots. échapper ay-shapay verb to escapeLes gens ne connaissent pas leur bonheur, mais celui des autres ne leur échappe pas. People do not know their own happiness, but the happiness of others does not escape them. -Pierre Daninos Hear the following story I was sitting in the food court, polishing off a plate of Japanese stir-fry when another one of those invisible forks in the road appeared. The year was 1993. Toni Morrison was just awarded the Nobel Prize for literature and I hoped language was my calling, too. In the meantime, I needed a at the air-conditioned mall, a middle-aged man and a young woman sat down at the table across the way. The woman had hair the color of salsa and skin as pale as an onion. I recognized the man as the one who used to buy expensive ski clothing for the pretty blondes who decorated his arms. I sold him the Bogner ski suits and Revo sunglasses. Afterwards, I cleaned the dressing room floor. The purse-size pooches belonging to the French-speaking blondes made puddles and pire.*When the man signaled "Bonjour," I threw my paper plate in the trash, set the tray on the poubelle,* and walked up to the table, my posture straighter than before. I had been to France since we last met. I had quit the ski shop, returned to college, graduated, and met a Frenchman before the upswing I was on changed its course, landing me back on the desert floor which, to a Francophile, might as well have been Marc introduced me to Frances who stopped biting her cuticles in time to shake my hand. She didn't speak French like the Bogner blondes did, but she apparently spoke the language of love. Marc asked if I was looking for work, mentioned some kind of start-up and that he needed a few more girls."It's telephone work," he coughed. There would be shook the ice in her cup and looked away nervously. That's when I understood what kind of telephone work we were talking about three-lettered and rhyming with "hex."My face turned the color of Frances' hair and if I hadn't been so embarrassed I might have embarked. But phone hex wasn't in the stars for me and just then, in a sudden cosmic shift, the color from my cheeks drained onto that invisible fork in the road, highlighting the path before me in crimson. I followed the red brick road out of the mall, away from the phone hexers, through the valley of the sun and eventually ended up back in France, having ay-shapay* belle any deep-breathing for the cosmic gods, it is not without a sense of humor and a good heart that they sent another would-be phone hexer to the Hexagone.* * * *..................................................................................................References pire = worse; la poubelle f = garbage can; ay-shapay = pronunciation for échappé belle = to escape narrowly; l'Hexagone m = France Audio File Listen to Jean-Marc read today's quote Download gens ne connaissent pas leur bonheur, mais celui des autres ne leur échappe & Expressions échapper à quelqu'un, quelque chose = to escape something, someone le nom m'échappe = the name escapes me laisser échapper = to let someone, something escape laisser échapper l'occasion = the let the opportunity pass by s'échapper de prison = to escape from prison In Music & More A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety Without a modicum of foi, life can be a three-ring circus. Foifwanoun, femininefaith My daughter says that books are like cigarettes, une mauvaise habitude, and would I please put the reading aside for one night?"Of course, Sweetheart," I promise, returning the book to its shelf. Is that a tremble in my arm? Sweat on my brow?"And the cahiers and the pens—put them away too!" Jackie insists. My head starts to pound and the twitching begins. I leave my hard- and soft-bound drugs, feeling the first symptoms of withdrawal as I walk away from words. I tell my daughter that I got the habit from her Mexican grandmother, Wholia, and that one day she'll need a paper-and-pen fix too. It runs in the family like flat hair and latent fury. I don't tell my daughter that her Mexican grandmother, Jules, is really American, but leave it as Jackie's told it time and again. It is her story and not mine, and she gets that storytelling gene from Wholia, or Julia—make that "Jules".At the dinner table, Jackie asks, "Why does Grandma Jules dress up for dinner?" I sit there in my felt slippers and pajamas, thinking up an answer. "Because people like to look at pretty things when they eat, and don't we love looking at Grandma Jules?" My daughter Jackie says, "Let's do like Grandma Jules!" I prepare to get up, walk to the powder room, and put on some lipstick. Instead, my daughter reaches for my hand, closes her eyes and says"Dear Lord, thank you for this food."It is no thanks to me, nose deep in a book, fingers curled around another cartouche, that my daughter learned to pray. But tonight we'll take Wholia's example, and hope that, like fury and fine hair, faith runs in this family—if not always in stride. YOUR EDITS HEREThank you for pointing out any typos or "grammar worries" in this story. Click here to submit edits or to commentFrench Vocabulary une mauvaise habitude = a bad habitle cahier = notebookune cartouche = ink cartridge refill for pens Audio File Listen to my daughter, Jackie, read today's quote & Expressions digne de foi = reliable, trustworthy witness être de bonne foi = to be sincere, honest la mauvaise foi = dishonesty avoir la foi = to have faith perdre la foi = to lose one's faith sans foi ni loi = to fear neither God nor man avoir la foi du charbonnier = "to have a coalman's faith" simple faith avec les yeux de la foi = "with eyes of faith" = to believe sight unseenIf you enjoy French Word-A-Day, please take a moment to learn how you can support it. Thank you! Hear the following story A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety A recipe for scaring crows, French and otherwise. la recette reuh-set noun, feminine 1. recipe, formula 2. receipts, returnsIls avaient des goûts communs et des métiers différents ...la recette même de l'amitié. They had common tastes and different professions ...the very recipe for friendship. -André Maurois. For you today thoughts from the writing trenches... * * *Do you have the recipe for success? Well, maybe you do. As for me, I have never been good with recettes* and find myself cooking and constructing a career "au pif," that is, "by guesswork." The risk is a flat cake here and there-rather, many flat cakes ici et là,* and a lot of "putting the cart before the horse," while watching everyone else seemingly glide by, maps in hand, water bottles overflowing and, Poor weary traveler would you like a sip? Surely you are thirsty?Maybe you are like me, always forgetting to drink?Thirsty, you find yourself on some sort of path. You learn to follow your hunches. For a while you have faith. Then, against your better judgment, and under the guise of "getting some perspective," you take your eyes off the next stone step. You trip, of course. Looking up, you are astonished. While you are,indeed, nearing a summit you are also a deep desert canyon away from your destination. What happened? Now anyone's guess is better than you grovel around for hard ground, the temptation at this point is twofold 1. board the next cable car. 2. measure your progress against another traveler' intervenes in time to remind you that there are no free cable car rides and that to compare yourself to another is to kill your so-called craft. While you thank Goody-Two-Shoes Grace for her wise thoughts, you rather fancy a bit more groveling at this low point, a bit more scraping-of-your-face against the rocky ground, for the blood and tears that pour out are strangely soothing. * * *............................................................................................................References la recette f = recipe; ici et là = here and there Audio File Listen to my daughter, Jackie, pronounce today's quote Ils avaient des goûts communs et des métiers différents ...la recette même de l' on France and moreTranslated into English for the first time since its original 1927 publication, La Bonne Cuisine has long been the French housewife's equivalent of... The Joy of Cooking Publishers Weekly"Words in a French Life" - soon available in paperback!TeLL me More French - Used everyday in more than 10,000 academic institutionsRecipe!Last week, I told you about Madame Delhome's savory "Cake aux Olives". Here's the recette. A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety Soignez-vous up high on a hilltop. Photo of my daughter, Jackie, wishing she could fly. Taken at the top of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Fleur de Sel French Sea Salt Gathered from the salt beds of Camargue by a Master Salter Maitre Salier, this subtly flavored salt will add burst of flavor to your food. Fleur de Sel is truly an addictive taste!soigner swan-yay verb to treat, to nurse to look after, to take care ofLes maladies que l'on cache sont les plus difficiles à illnesses that we hide are the most difficult to treat. -Chinese proverb. Several weeks ago Jean-Marc, Max, Jackie, and I spent winter break in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, just a short drive from Sainte-Cécile-les-Vignes. Our cécilienne farmhouse being in escrow at the time, Aunt Marie-Françoise offered us a room in her holiday gîte*-affectionately known as "la Cigale".* Though itwas too early to hear the trill and drum of the cicada, the cypress trees-which the winged ones set abuzz in summertime-were in full bloom out in the countryside and the powdery pollen sent me sneezing, sniffing, and shuttering up the the children and Jean-Marc headed over to uncle Jean-Claude's for dinner one evening, I stayed behind, closing doors, fenêtres,* and painted shutters to block out the allergens which, in turn, were blocking my lungs. As I headed up the creaky wooden stairs to the mezzanine, where a dog-eared book and a box of Kleenex decorated the nightstand beside the guest bed, I was startled by an insistent knocking at the door."Qui est là?" Who is there? I barked, in soft voice answered, "C'est Marie-Françoise."The front door was bolted shut in such a way that I found myself locked in the cottage. Not wanting to make Jean-Marc's aunt wait, I hurried over to the window and unlatched the wooden shutters, pushing them open before the Marie-Françoise appeared in a frame of white petals. The almond tree behind her was in bloom and the periwinkle sky beyond seemed to push forth the snow-white flowers. Below, purple irises polka dotted the driveway, announcing that spring had sprung in the land of the papes.*Jean-Marc's aunt lifted her trusty wicker tote, setting it on the stone windowsill. She is always pulling things "Ta-da!"-or rather Voilà!-from that bottomless basket; from coffee pots to confectioner's sugar there is always some sweet sundry rising to its time, Aunt Marie-Françoise produced a dark blue bottle marked "Aroma Force" which, according to the label, promised to "aide l'organisme à se défendre."* I turned the bottle around, noting the ingredients which included peppermint, lavandin,* clove and eucalyptus-essential oils used in aroma the bottomless basket hiccupped and out came a piece of cardboard. My savior-soignante* offered her excuses for the haphazard cut-out, which she had quickly designed to help trap the steam in the aroma therapy "nose bath" or "sinus steam" that she was prescribing me. I watched my aunt's impromptu demonstration in which she fit the curved end of the cardboard cut-out to the bridge of her nose and, with a dramatic intake of pretend steam, she relaxed her facial muscles, offering a look of supreme soulagement.* Ahhh!The last item to pop out of the basket was a jar of tomato soup. "You lose a lot of liquid..." Aunt Marie-Françoise explained, "...when you have allergies tears, sneezing...be sure to drink a little of this soup," she I had the chance to ask how she had found the time to confect the care package having just finished a full day's work as a speech therapist, Aunt Marie-Françoise was off-but not before offering up an appreciative nod to the flowering almond tree whose delicate white blossoms seemed to soothe her own silent sufferings. ***Comments, corrections-or stories of your own-always welcome and appreciated! See the Comments box at the end of this post.........................French Vocabulary..............................le gîte m = lodging; la cigale f = cicada; la fenêtre f = window; le pape m = pope; aide l'organisme à se défendre = helps the organism to defend itself; le lavandin = type of lavender; soignante = one who nurses; le soulagement m = relief. Audio File Hear Jean-Marc recite today's proverb in French Download maladies que l'on cache sont les plus difficiles à soigner. ShopEssential Oil Sampler with Lavender, Tea Tree, Peppermint, Eucalyptus, Rosemary and Sweet OrangeRosetta Stone French CD-ROM - "an award-winning method used by NASA and the Peace Corps" A money belt for traveling. Perfect size for your passport and currency. Terms & Expressions soigner une maladie = to treat an illness se soigner = to take care of, look after, oneself soigner sa ligne = to watch one's figure soigner sa clientèle = to take care of one's clients soigner son image = to look after one's image soigner les blessés = to nurse the woundedVerb conjugation je soigne, tu soignes, il/elle soigne, nous soignons, vous soignez, ils/elles soignent past participle = soignéCheck out the Complete Guide to Conjugating 12000 French Verbs by BescherelleIn other French towns... Villedieu. For a cozy halt, stop into the Café du Centre, order a chocolat chaud. A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety For the purposes of this edition, and so as to remain neatly "in theme," we'll call the little guy in the lower left "Frank."franc, franche frawn, frawnsh adjective frank, true, free, exempt...and the verb "franchir" to cross, step over out, overcomeSans franchir sa porte, on peut connaître le stepping out his door, one can know the world. -Lao-Tseu. Madame Delhome's floors are so clean you could lick flan off them. As I tiptoe over to our neighbor's sofa, I shudder to think about my own floors until my mother's wisdom comes back to comfort me, "Don't worry about the dust, honey, people feel better about their own homes when they walk into yours."While that is some comfort, I don't want Madame Delhome to feel bad about how her flan-lickable floors make me feel messy, so I won't share any nuggets of wisdom with her this early on in our friendship. Instead, I'll take off my ask the kids to take off their go-dass,* too, before three of us wrestle Braise back out onto the front porch. Moments earlier, when we left for cocktails at the neighbor's, our dog fancied a swim in the stream and a "dry off" in the powdery earth, the same powdery earth, I realize, that seems to be stuckto the kids' socks!Barefooted, the kids and I finally sit down on madame's rustic-style leather sofa while monsieur and madame settle into the matching wood-trimmed chairs. Jean-Marc is seated next to madame. I make narrow eyes at the kids, reminding them of their manners before each of us accepts a slice of olive cake from a blue earthenware cake aux olives* is rich with cubes of gruyère cheese and bits of ripe red tomato beneath its golden crust. The snack is heavenly good but when madame offers to give me the recipe I tell her, "Please, don't trouble yourself." What I really want to say is "By all means! Write it down carefully and don't miss even one ingredient!"Remembering my dream of having a vegetable garden, I turn to Monsieur Delhome."I saw a man down by the stream working in a potager,"* I say, knowing all the while that the garden-in-question belongs to Monsieur Delhome."That would be Monsieur Blanc," Monsieur Delhome, points out. "I let him work on that parcel, as he loves to garden!" That "parcel" is right next to a parcel of our own and I think about how easy it would be for Monsieur Blanc, who loves to garden, to expand his project south...then we all could enjoy the fruits of his labor!"I have always wanted a vegetable garden!" I hint. "Do you know of anyone...who might like to, uh, borrow a bit of our land for tending?" I notice that Monsieur Delhome looks confused and so I repeat my indirect wish. "It would be nice to know someone who enjoys gardening..."."What exactly do you want, Madame Espinasse?" Monsieur Delhome demanded, putting an abrupt stop to any vagaries. Just then I felt an olive stick in my throat."Are you asking me to send Monsieur Blanc over to work your field?""No," I protested, embarrassed. Though I wanted exactly directness that Monsieur Delhome was asking for reminded me of another of my mom's nuggets of sagesse* ask and you shall receive but be clear about what you need and don't beat around the bush!. Still, words do not come easy and we leave the Delhomes' with my worrying about the flaky impression that I have few weeks later Monsieur and Madame Delhome stop by for a visit and present me with a beautifully illustrated book on gardening. Inside, there is a handwritten note including warm words of encouragement. I point to the book's cover where an elaborate arch of roses shades a grassy path leading to a beautiful vegetable garden-one prettier than I have ever imagined."What exactly are you implying, Monsieur Delhome?" I say, practicing Monsieur's direct approach along with some newfound initiative. "Do you think that I could make a garden as pretty as this?""Pourquoi pas?"* monsieur questioned, looking me directly in the for the Delhomes, they seem to have a little more faith in their new neighbor's abilities than she herself has......................................................................................................................References go-dass pronunciation for la godasse = slang for shoes; le cake m aux olives = olive cake; le potager m = kitchen garden; la sagesse f = wisdom; pourquoi pas = why not?Madame Delhome's Cake aux Olives without tomatoes and with ham!-150 g. olives noires et vertes denoyautéesabout 5 oz of black and green olives, pitted-250 g. jambon 8 or 9 oz of ham-4 oeufs 4 eggs-150 g. comte approximately 5 oz of comte or gruyere-150 g. farine roughly 5 oz of flour-4 huile d'olive 4 soup spoons of olive oil-15 cl. lait something like 5 oz of milk-1 sachet levure chimique. sel. poivre. 1 packet of baking powder. Salt and pepper to taste. I have not made this cake so please don't throw eggs at me if the above calculations don't pan out! With that cautionary note in mind, I'll try to translate the recipe's instructions... -Scald or "ebouillantez"-and what a verb! the olives and cut them in two. Cut the ham and cheese in cubes. Preheat the oven to a mixing bowl "une jatte", place flour, baking powder, salt and pepper. Make a "well" "un puit" with the dry ingredients, in which to add the following beaten eggs and milk. Mix oil, olives, ham and cheese. Mix mixture into an oiled pan. Cook one hour and fifteen minutes approximately.-Bon Appétit! Audio Clip Hear my son, Max, recite today's quote Download franchir sa porte, on peut connaître le & Expressions jouer franc jeu = to play fair le franc-parler = plain-spoken avoir les coudées franches = to have elbow-room la boutique franche = duty-free shopShoppingKitchen Gardens of France - be inspired!Your House, Your Garden A Foolproof Approach to Garden DesignFrench Before You Know It Deluxe. Enhance your speaking ability with Pronunciation Practice."Four Queens The Provencal Sisters Who Ruled Europe"Fallot Dijon Herbed Mustards - Set of 4 French Mustards A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety Photo of a French door and its hesitant greeting. saluer sah-loo-ay verb to greet, to wave to, to nod to; to salute Nobles et mystérieux triomphes qu'aucun regard ne voit, qu'aucune renommée ne paye, qu'aucune fanfare ne salue. Noble and mysterious triumphs which no eye beholds, which are requited with no renown, which are saluted with no trumpet blast. -Victor Hugo. Near the end of the vine horizon, where wheat-colored fields come to a halt before a massive steel hangar,* I saw her waving. "C'est Madame Delhome," Jean-Marc said, lifting one hand off the steering wheel to return madame's friendly gesture. Our neighbor wore a checkered flannel top and faded blue jeans. She might have been an American farmer if she weren't French. "Have you met her?" I asked my husband, who answered that he had not. My hand flew up as I waved back, encouraged by madame's initiative and friendliness. As we drove past the row of vines that madame was pruning, I caught a glimpse of the handsome woman with the engaging smile and sun-kissed complexion as she paused from her chores to acknowledge us strangers. That wave! In one generous to-and-fro motion the neighbor's greeting was unmistakable. Using the full length of her arm and in one natural and unaffected gesture she offered up the most warm-spirited acknowledgment of our existence. Not that my own salutation would have been cold or even feigned; it simply would not have been. For too many complications would have cropped up at the instant in which I perceived "the new neighbors" us in the distance. Indeed, had it been me hunched over those vines when the new neighbors cruised past, heads in the clouds, my reaction would not have been as simple or as natural as Madame Delhome's had been. I would have hidden behind the very branches that I was tending. Had I uncharacteristically taken the first step, the process would have been a complicated one and nothing like madame's spontaneous salutation. Whereas madame announced her location among the great field of vines, this with a grand flagging of the arm, I would have weighed the risk of signaling when chances were the passengers in the speeding car hadn't seen me in the first place. Oh, the hazards of appearing uncouth! When I was certain that the new neighbors had spotted me, only then would my hand have cautiously inched up, all the while anticipating a signal back. In the event that the neighbors weren't actually noticing the awkward figure out there in the vines-but were, horror of horrors, pointing to the dazzling sunset just beyond, then a bit of emergency backtracking would be necessary. I would have to save face by swatting the air as if shooing a mouche.* And though I sit here, weeks later, practicing Madame Delhome's friendly wave, I must say it just isn't easy being simple. But then, as my husband says to me, sometimes gently, but more often while swatting his own forehead in exasperation "Pourquoi faire simple quand tu peux faire compliqué?!"Why be simple when you can be complicated?! ................................................................................................................References le hangar m = shed; la mouche f = fly Audio Clip Nobles et mystérieux triomphes qu'aucun regard ne voit, qu'aucune renommée ne paye, qu'aucune fanfare ne salue. Download Related Terms & Expressionssaluer quelqu'un de la main = to wave to someonesaluer d'un coup de tête = to give a nodsaluer quelqu'un d'un chapeau bas = to take off one's hat to somebodysaluer quelqu'un d'un coup de chapeau = to raise one's hat to somebody A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety Talk about an original gift...Jean-Marc got stairs for his birthday not these pretty ones but some other pretty ones and can now access his future office without having to climb a ladder! Photo taken at La Bastide de Magnans in a-nee-vair-sair noun, masculine anniversary, birthdayUn diplomate est un homme qui se rappelle l'anniversaire d'une femme et qui oublie son âge. A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age. -Somerset Maugham. The sky above the snow-capped Ventoux Mountains burned as red as a rooster's crest. With no crowing birds around to announce the start of a new day, the heavens stepped forth and obliged."The sky is clear!" I announced to Jean-Marc, who was set to celebrate his fortieth anniversaire* at the new farm. In a few hours, more than seventy-five guests former school buddies from Marseilles and their growing families would make the hour and a half trip north to the sunny Vaucluse...or so we hoped."Ciel rouge le matin, pluie en chemin," red sky in the morning and rain is on the way, Jean-Marc replied, dragging the mattresses out of the house in a last-ditch effort to make room for the guests. I had forgotten that old French dictum. Thinking about the imminent rain another adage came to mind, one that I learned on my wedding day while contemplating the clouds that mirrored the dark Mediterranean sea mariage pluvieux, mariage heureux - a rainy wedding, happy marriage. No reason the same couldn't be true for my husband's 40th anniversaire! I set down my coffee cup and left the garden chair and the sizzling sunrise to help our ol' quadragenerian lug the bedding over to the house emptied quickly what with only three mattresses, one small table, and four chairs furnishing it. With an empty house we might have just enough room to squeeze everyone inside...like so many sardines swimming toward the sun the sun that was presently menaced by a barrage of incoming clouds.When the bedding was stored, Jean-Marc paused to admire the view. "Well, at least we can see the Dentelles-de-Montmirail!" I looked east to the imposing limestone peaks which glistened like marshmallows in the fiery hour later those limestone marshmallows had fully melted, becoming one with the clouds that had overtaken them. I threw Jean-Marc a sympathetic look as we brought in the last of the party supplies."To be honest," Jean-Marc admitted, "it really doesn't bother me. We can all wear raincoats! Besides," he said revealingly, "the grapevines are parched and the rain will quench their thirst."As if on cue, the dark sky opened up and showered the caring vigneron* with approval. And there, beneath the pouring rain I realized, at last, that the former finance major was truly a farmer "au fond."*..............................................................................................................References un anniversaire m = birthday; le vigneron la vigneronne = wine grower; au fond = deep down at heart Audio File Download Listen to my daughter, Jackie, sing Happy Birthday in French to her fatherJoyeux anniversaireJoyeux anniversaireJoyeux anniversaire, PapaJoyeux anniversaire!Terms & Expressionsbon, joyeux anniversaire! = happy birthday!un cadeau d'anniversaire = birthday presentl'anniversaire de mariage = wedding anniversarysouhaite un très joyeux anniversaire à quelqu'un = to wish someone a very happy birthdayShoppingThomas Jefferson on wine - a definitive account of a great American’s lifelong passion for fine wine Treat yourself to a treasure of a French language dictionary!Practice your French - read a French language magazineCheck out "Behind the Wheel French" - an 8 CD language Planet France inspiration and itineraries for exploring France your own way A Message from Kristi Ongoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal week after week. If you find value in this website and would like to keep it going strong, I kindly ask for your support by making a donation today. Thank you very much for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its to contribute1. Paypal or credit card2. A bank transfer via Zelle, a great way to send your donation as there are no transaction purchase my book for a friend, and so help spread the French more online reading The Lost Gardens A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety

Dimaspergi ke tempat kerja pukul 0600 setiap pagi Jika menggunakan mobil. Dimas pergi ke tempat kerja pukul 0600 setiap pagi. School Universitas Terbuka; Course Title MANAGEMENT MISC; Uploaded By franssipintar. Pages 19 This preview shows page 15 - 17 out of 19 pages.

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