While I was visiting my family in the States, I would occasionally think about Provence and my life in France in order to try and regard it with the blessing of remove. I was surprised by how much I longed for the region itself, for the land and its life. Certainly, it has taken root in my heart and not necessarily due to its more obvious charms, of which there are many. No, just as I used to visit certain paintings in the museums of Manhattan so often that I began to consider them as friends (including several Van Goghs whose landscapes would later become a part of my daily life in Arles), so too certain characteristics here have wooed my attention and become dear to me.
Chief amongst those is patina, the glow of time’s way. I missed it’s imperfections dearly while in Michigan and wondered if its presence gives one a certain permission not to be brighter, faster and stronger but just to be. There is such psychology in our surroundings. I am fairly certain that I have written this before but patina is forgiving. And I love it for that as well as the sheer beauty present within “I endure.”
I know that quite a few of you are impatient to see our new home but she is not yet ready for her close-up. There is a point during every move (and I have been through so many – eight in Manhattan alone, including one that I accomplished solely via subway) when things get much worse just before they get better and we are right in the thick of it. Remi is downstairs sanding the parquet floors and I will have to tackle the boxes in the dressing room as neither of us have anything clean to wear. Each morning I still wake up bone tired, my head in a fog. But oh, how it is worth it. In the quiet of the evenings, I light the candles and we both listen, trying to decipher what the house is telling us to do.
So for now, I hope that you will be contented with two posts featuring some of the details of our new village. I took these photos quite some time ago – long before we had found our house – and have been saving them for our arrival as something of a promise to myself.
And now we are here. Painting and creating traces that will one day become patina of its own.
Exactamundo as my Dad would have said.
Libby, that antiques store sounds amazing!! I would have been out of my mind, no? Someone would have had to drag me out of there! And thanks for the encouragement, there are more to come!
Oh by all means, say it as often as you wish! She really is an amazing woman. So incredibly talented (was on Broadway, created an album as a singer-songwriter), smart (she has her own Music Together business) and funny! Not to mention generous and caring as you can see in the comments that she leaves… 🙂
I have absolutely zero idea what plant that is but there certainly is a lot of it around here…
Merci, Greet! Bisous!
I am sorry to hear that you have been having trouble commenting…but I am glad that this got through. Yes, it is the same with this house although it is not 500 years old. I will try to remember to show you a photo of the facade soon so you can see how many colors it has been. It is fascinating. All of those different lives…
Yes! I also love the tactile connection with history that patina provides. It is exceptional.
We are getting there Jeanne, there are moments already that feel so right.
Yep, I find it very comforting too Angie.
It is not as fancy as I made it sound…but it is lovely…you will see… 🙂