Living in France: Past, Present, Future in Each Step

Living in France

 

The never ending wonder of surprise. How many times have I walked the path that goes by this house is unmeasurable. Thinking out loud- I wondered due to the clearing recently executed around the path did the trail leading to it become more apparent? Whatever the reason the century old house has been there longer than I have and will be…

 

Today I found it by accident.

 

 

 

Living in France

 

The clouds that brought a slew of rain yesterday glistened the tree trunks and branches, allowing the texture of the bark, stone, soil, and growth to speak volumes of Spring's awaken. Almond blossom confetti covered the ground, did the soul of the house sing in the background luring me closer? 

Fortunately, the house is locked solid as it is abandoned and alone out in the foothills. Though the grounds are cared for: Olive trees recently pruned, irises green shoots waking up and the boars happy dig evident around the oak trees.

 

 

Living in France

 

I imagined a picnic, poetry in motion, girls in white, kites waving above, and watching the clouds go by while taking a nap on some old French quilt that surely would be of red toile. 

How could this house have gone unnoticed by me? I remain baffled as I walked home. The sun played hide and seek amongst the clouds of grey, navy, white and black. Night was creeping in yet hints of blue behind the threatening clouds told me that spring's daylight would not allow it just yet. "Just behind the clouds… a blue sky," I thought to myself just like the house just behind the overgrown trail.

I promised myself to see beyond what is at hand. To open my other senses to what is beyond. To reach into the moment letting it lead me.

 

Living in France

 

Certainly we have all thought about what story is behind old things, if only they could talk. Though they do talk, and we do hear, and our lives follow similar paths. 

I wondered if anything I ever bought at the brocante belonged to this house. The thought of it made me smile. I am a caregiver to old things, lending them a hand into tomorrow. Their story holds a piece of you and me. 

Stained teacup, pillowcase that has nestled my head, reflection in the mirror, rug underfoot, sculpted wood gathering dust, drawer holding bits and pieces.

Past, present, future in each step we take.

 

 



Comments

13 responses to “Living in France: Past, Present, Future in Each Step”

  1. are you thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking? you need to spill Thursday!
    xxx

  2. Would someone in your village possibly know the current owners so you could look in the house? Am I sensing a possible future design challenge/rental in your future? Oooh that would be so much fun!!!

  3. my aunt popped by today- unexpected-a little st. Patrick’s day cheer-and I always mention you and your shop and the new adventure/venture and I regale her with my lasted purchases from your store and today I nearly said the same thing to her-I believe unconsciously or subconsciously I am trying to “buy” France-old France like I am going to preserve it somehow-I gently tuck away the precious what nots wrapping and all and then open the boxes and gently touch all the treasures. Somehow I think this conveys my respect admiration and appreciation for such beautiful things- that have a history a story to tell-I am happy to listen to their precious story over and over again-

  4. Kathie B.

    Have you considered teaming up with someone who has a “truffle-dog” in order to check out those spots around the oak trees where the hogs dig? You might find some “black gold” there — and I don’t mean oil 😉

  5. Yesterday was such a glorious warm sunny day in SW France that having dropped the children at school my husband and I grabbed a cup of coffee and sneaked away from our desks to do a little exploring. We drove down narrow lanes and discovered little hamlets we didn’t even know existed and yet they were less than half an hour from our house. It’s great fun to be kids once in a while and explore with no agenda, no plans, just going wherever the road leads us, the only hint of being an adult is that we were in a car not on bikes!

  6. jend’isère

    Nothing is found by accident. Everything is a “fynd” in some way!

  7. Corey, you have romance in your soul and an eye for beauty. I hope that you find a kindred spirit in the person or people who own this secret treasure.. Have a wonderful Spring.

  8. So lovely, I dream of living in one of these as long as I remember.
    Thanks for showing us these beauties and telling us stories.
    Corey, good job at walking and exercising every day!

  9. More! More! Can you see in the windows?

  10. mike Ashton

    I started reading your blogs a few years ago, Corey, because you live where Van Gogh lived. And even though you visit Arles, then St.-Marie-sur-la-mer, then snap some apricot blossoms and yellow stone walls with tree trunks in the foreground – just like Vincent would have composed a canvas – you never mention His name…so sounds like you are still experiencing Provence the same way He did in 1887. Thanks so much for those last few shots: I’m trying to paint like Vincent did and need old Provence to stay alive like that.

  11. I’m new to your blog, and yes I am intrigued.

  12. I sure love your words, “a caregiver to old things, lending them a hand…”. The physical, tangible objects are the storytellers of the nebulous history. Preservation is vital. The ancient house looks and sounds like magic..did it appear out of the mist, like Brigadoon? Our ears are open. 🙂

  13. Rebecca from the pacific northwest

    I only seem to come to your blog to catch up about once a week. It’s like chocolate: a little a day is wonderful, but a week’s worth is a FEAST. I have such mixed feelings about not being part of the daily readership/commenters/interactions but I do so love a feast of Corey’s photos, observations, and heart.
    I love old things. When I go to estate sales here in the states I often spend some time quietly honoring the people who have lived (and recently died) in that home, wondering what their lives were like. (You should see all the kajillions of teddy bears one recent estate sale had! Crazy.)
    Old falling apart homes make me wonder what the lives were like there too. I thought a lot about that at the ruins of the castle/fortress in Oppede-le-Vieux as well. “Women who lived here had cramps and headaches just like modern day women do.” Not sure why menstrual cramps would make for a bond of connection (and pardon me, O delicate readers, if that’s too earthy) but they did.

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