The web of my dreams held me pinned to the bed. With eyes blinking in the dim light sliding beneath the closed shutters, I replayed them, films fluttering. What is it that my mind has been trying to work out? Each night my dreams have been especially long and detailed and I find a thread through of a dose of glamour in them and know that I must be missing that in my vie quotidienne. A bit of something bigger than my daily life. And so I am late in rising and cursing myself for it when the bell rings repeatedly and urgently at the front gate. I throw on some rain boots along with a jacket over my shoulders and open it to meet an agriculteur who is going from house to house selling en gros or stock portions of homegrown potatoes, apples and carrots still covered in mud. He keeps repeating that the potatoes will last until June and that the apples are delicious. I ask him to wait and run back into the house to grab a ten Euro bill. When I return to his truck, demanding eagerly what can I get for that amount as it is all that I have in the house, he replies, “Rien” and turns his back on me abruptly to start knocking loudly on the next door.
Luckily, the dogs understand that for once the morning walk will be for me. I stride fast and long to release the anger bubbling after that snub until I reach the area that I call the Pines. They whisper to me, “Shhh, shhh.” I stand still until I hear it. On the way back, I am cheered by the sight of Mr. Heron, who has earned his title as he is by far the largest and proudest of the birds in the neighborhood. Upon seeing Kipling, the barking rascal, he takes flight with throaty dinosaur clicks but I take it as a sign of good luck as I always do, a coin to put in my pocket.
But it is upon climbing back up to the first floor to finally make the bed that I am given the gift, one that stops me in my tracks. For there on the landing, on the branches of the small Japanese maple that we had brought inside too late and feared for dead…are several pale pink leaves…that have sprung up overnight. “They really weren’t there yesterday,” I keep reassuring myself but yet here they are. Here they are. I call out to Remi, “Do you want to see something amazing?” He walks towards me with a blink of surprise as to what that word could describe but when he sees, he smiles.
I have been thinking about the importance of the seasons as of late, especially after having finished reading the very fine “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” by one of my favorite authors, Barbara Kingsolver. It is a non-fiction book in which she describes the choice that her family makes to eat only locally for one year and largely from the produce and poultry that they harvest themselves. It is an effort both harder and easier than what we might imagine, especially as, similar to the art of waiting, many of us have simply forgotten what it is like to do so, not to mention how dearly it costs the planet – economically, geopolitically and culturally – to buy those out of season foods that have to be flown in from so far away. Remi and I have been making a greater effort to buy locally for some time now but it is interesting to think about eating seasonally as well for our bodies know what we need when, instinctively, if we only listen.
And that also goes for our inner world, including the need for extra sleep and dreams. I don’t often mention my depression here as it is something that I have lived with and manage since a very long time but it is always at this exact time of year that it slides with the precision of a clock into something a level deeper. That too is to be heard, acknowledged and even respected. There is a time for everything, we all have our seasons within us and yet we often live so mindlessly globally in our current society that we glide somewhere up in the skies of ‘all the time and everywhere’. I say that even while nodding knowingly towards my friends in the Southern Hemisphere who are gearing up for the end of summer. My posts have become more verbal and less visual than usual (not to everyone’s tastes, I know) as I prepare for the action that is coming soon. For here we are in mid-February and already, we have a bit of spring reaching towards us tenderly through the bare bones of winters remains. And that strikes me as quite honest, somehow. May those baby branches continue to grow…
Yes, we both know that doesn't make a difference and yes, we must carry on. I wish you could see how the maple has grown and unfurled so many leaves! That said, I am so very sorry to read that your depression has returned and I hope that you are doing all that you can (not always easy, I know!) to treat it and take care of yourself. I am always around if you need a lending ear at robinsonheather (at) yahoo.com.
Sending you a warm hug. And gratitude for your honesty and courage.
I thought the same thing, Karena!! Ten Euros is nearly $15!!
Heather, I battled depression as a young adult…..and then it went dormant for many years. It as returned this winter (in my retirement years). My life couldn't be more perfect….but we all know that that doesn't make a difference. Like that promising bud…we must carry on.
Thanks Heather, I'll check out the previous posts. Yes they love it. After vacationing for twenty years in Fontvielle, they decided to move there permanently. Six years ago they made the move , and last year they purchased the cabinnette on the farm where they vacationed all those years. My brother spends his days working on the farm( Mannonni is the name of the owner, they raise bulls for the bull fights ) and making furniture, which he did in the U.S.. They recently qualified for a ten year visa, and there is talk of citizenship. I'm all for the idea, selfishly planning future visits. See ya.
Heather isn't it interesting how those tiny little buds bring so much joy, hope and knowledge that spring cannot be far off (even with snow on the ground and more on its way here)
That potato man must not need ten Euros very much!!
xoxo
Karena
The Arts by Karena
Thank you so much, pooker1963, that means a lot to me. Living here is really different than visiting. It is wonderful but it can be complex! Do they like it? Granted, they are in one of the prettiest spots of the Alpilles!! I did a few posts about "contrasts in Provence" that might be of interest to you. If so, the search option is in the sidebar to the right. 🙂
Thank you, Bonnie. After all of these years I can still get so mad at such rudeness, especially as there is a part of me that wonders, "would he have dared to be rude to a Frenchwoman?" (actually with this guy, probably) Our small primeur shop has been closed for vacation but is opening back up next week so I guess the kind owner will get the ten Euros that I would have given the grumpy farmer!
And I had no idea about the Japanese Maple. Oh dear. Our water is so hard here it is basically liquid stone. I will give it H2O from the Brita pitcher now! Hooray!
We still haven't made it to Roquebrun although I hear it is lovely. The closest was when we rented the safari tent further to the north of you:
http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/2013/07/a-fabulous-safari-tent-to-rent-in-haut.html
Like magic. 🙂 But I have always been this introspective! The first "big" word that my Mom taught me was "analytical".
Sending you Strength to get through your project and as always thoughts of gratitude for your kindness and support…