Being a kid in the country meant being free to do what I wanted to do pretty much all of the time. Unless I was at school or had chores to tend to. I grew up in a small rural town in California. Most people think of California as one long coastline with actors dotting the beaches and where everyone has a year-round tan. But California is more than that. It actually has farmland, my Father had a dairy farm and grew rice.
Surrounding my childhood home there were fields, a creek, a canal and a cemetery on the other side. Growing up we were told that having land mattered. If you had land you could live; with a patch of dirt, seeds, and water at least you would never starve. I felt safe knowing my Dad had land, that he knew how to farm and that my Mom knew how to cook. You see food and love went hand in hand. I had plenty of both.
As a child growing up on a farm I took for granted the freedom that the land had to offer. The wide space to run and play. I took for granted the daily lessons of nature. Most often I didn't realize the soothing sound of silence during the day. These natural parts of my day seemed unimportant until I went to the urban side of the world. Though the moment I went to live in the city where my feet touched concrete instead of the earth, where the sun and moon weren't visible at a glance but often peering between buildings and seasons were reduced to simple words such as it is too hot or too cold. I realized how lucky I was to have experienced dirt underneath my feet. The country became my "Emerald City." The lessons I gathered rose strong within me.
My French Husband grew up in Rennes a city in Northern France. His work is investing in urban dwellings, land called an urban jungle.
Far away are his city experiences, from my growing up in the country.
When we first were married we lived in Paris for a few years, and as beautiful as it was, the moment my feet touched the dry earthy ground of Provence I knew then I could call France home. Of course, it helped to have my French Husband by my side, even if he wasn't a farmer…
If ever need be we could grow tomatoes in flower pots.
Isn't it funny how at times we can look back somehow somewhere see a connection, see a vague cosmic order? As if a string ties this to that, and makes us say, "Isn't that funny…" and other times simply wonder how life unfolds?"
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