I can hear my neighbor, Michel, clipping flowers across our steps-wide street. He is slow and methodical in his movements and yet is never pretentious about his plants despite their beauty. He is retired now after having worked for years as a coiffeur in England and when he first moved to this village many years ago they called him “L’Anglais” despite his being very much French. His first attempts at potting flowers were met with secret scorn as was his arrival. He would wake to find petals ripped from their stems or poisoned roses.
Le méfiance is still present, running like an underground current, although happily there are now so many “foreigners” who live here that they are no longer mistreated. But I can feel that Remi and I are being watched to see how we will behave, if we will offer a “Bonjour” or not, whether we will be respectful of keeping noise to a minimum (we are) and if our dogs will be a nuisance (Kipling, occasionally). I don’t mind it actually. It seems something of a normal reaction in such a particularly delineated space where families have been rooted for generations and the neighbors are never anonymous.
It is definitely a change after Arles where it took years to be identified or recognized even in my neighborhood. So many people would come and go throughout the day but not so, here. I can identify the time not only by the tolling church bells but also by the man who drives by with the dog that barks in the backseat or the boy who runs home from school everyday at lunchtime. “How are you settling in? Do you like the house?” the mailman asked this morning in between casual drags on an Indian cheroot. I told him that I did and how I was appreciating the quiet after having lived in Arles. “Ah, if that is what you are looking for, then this is the place for you,” he responded before pushing his cart down the lane.
Downshift, downshift, downshift. Manhattan, Paris, Arles and now this old village. At times the lack of sound pools around me like a grandpa sweater, at others it feels as tight as a leather glove against my skin. It is just a change to get used to, even if a positive one and yes, sometimes simple is best. But now that I am settling in to this new house, I have inklings that even that word is just a label, another question of perspective. What I see and feel remains complex no matter the backdrop. And that is just fine by me. It’s all good, really good. For now, as the dust of new continues to settle, I can always count on the reliable gifts of the golden tick of the light and beauty’s swan sway as compasses instead.
Exceptionally beautiful photos today. I love that you can tell the time by the sound of the boy running home for lunch. That is the simplicity.
The simplicity is new perspectives and with time will find accommodation, warmth and friendliness of the neighbors and village. The discovery of simple living in the countryside.
I love those stones and concrete steps and the beginning signs of fall.
Have a wonderful weekend.
p.s. Went over to "have some decorum" – love her!
You really got me with your take on simple!! A matter of perspective – YES, just like the Buddhist idea of emptiness!! Like things really are simple/empty, but then we/our minds add all this CRAP. Even if we move to the beautiful countryside! But it's good to be okay with that, and don't forget that you direct us towards simplicity in everyone of your blog posts, and for that we are very grateful. ?
Beautiful as always and how I envy you the quiet and the stillness. There is a constant hum here I have come reluctantly to accept as something like silence, but it's not. The rise and fall of the traffic is at its least offensive like mechanical waves on a beach, but not really. How I long for that grandpa sweater. XXXX G
Reading you is always like a meditation for me, in the best possible way.
And I also visited Ellie's blog at La Contessa's urging. Wonderful!
Bon weekend!
xo
don't see it as a down shift…it' s different and perhaps the right thing/place what you just need. Who knows what
interesting stories you will tell about this little village and their people
Heather, this is beautiful. What a vivid picture you paint of your new life, and what awareness you bring to the complexities of a seemingly simple spot. Moving around must emphasize that no matter where you go, there you are, and that we bring our own personalities to the places where we put down roots – yes they influence us, but rarely to they tease out what is at our very own core. I've pretty much lived in the same spot in my life, so haven't had that experience (except through travel) so I'm so glad I can get an inkling of what it may be like through your gorgeous words.
Thanks for the tip on Ellie, and thanks so much for your kind words over at chez moi. They are HUGELY appreciated.
I hope you have a wonderful weekend, full of the gorgeousness of fall in Provence! XOXO
As always, you inspire. I enjoyed this little 'slice of life' piece on your new home. And I have been thinking about the concept of 'home' quite a lot lately. Also, your photos continue to inspire — time to put away the iPhone that I used almost exclusively on my travels and get serious with my camera.
Thank you for the link to Ellie. She is truly amazing. As are you.
STALKER CRAZY……….OH HEATHER thats just HOW I FELT!!!I couldNOT get enough!I sat here for three consecutive mornings reading HER other POSTS.I think ,I HOPE I have read them ALL.She says it like it is and I adore HER for that!ADORE……………I think I might be using that word too much but that is how I FEEL!
SO, you have a hairdresser across the way?!!!That will come in handy………..perhaps you can trade some VEGGIES for a BLOW OUT!!What fun too to have an English speaking person in your village!Love to YOU!XOXO