French la Vie

                 The setting sun dressed up like a star. I opened up my arms, as wide as the rays and proclaimed, "You are, you are,…

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                      I grew up on a farm. Where cows, cousins and rice ruled the day. Summertime meant watermelon, swimming in the ditch, and…

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My son Sacha asked, "Mom how will I know when to turn the other cheek, or to grab the person’s hand and say no." photo: Cast iron hands used for…

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Photo taken at Lauren’s home. A gathering, like twigs in a nest, one by one, we arrived at Lauren’s home for a party amongst blogging friends. Photo: Vintage French party…

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The morning pours through the windows of my Godmother’s home. It is going to be a beautiful day. How many of you can say you slept on a porch, in…

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Trust the hands of friendship that come your way… The giving and receiving,  the gentle and the strong. The hand that asks you to hold on, and the one that…

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Being back in my childhood home my thoughts turn around family, and the life I had when I lived here. The familiar objects tell me stories I do not hear…

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                Within each of us, there is a dream wanting to wake up and become real, tangible, whole, and complete. Within each of us, there…

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Photos listed below taken by my dear friend G. Hutter, while with French husband hiking to towards the Sunrise at Mont Viso, Italy. Every summer, actually every chance French Husband…

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The upside down glass is neither half full, nor half empty. It waits for someone to turn it over, fill it up, and drink heartily from it. Life pours out…

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