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While the immortal William Shakespeare may have written, “The eyes are the window to your soul,” I beg to differ. For while we can hide within even the most direct of glances, the voice doesn’t lie. This is something that I have been thinking about in recent conversations with my friend Vickie, who is dipping into the realm of author’s reading their work (her book is coming out on June 1, so more of that anon). 

Where does your voice live in your body? Is it something that you give much thought to? As a former theatre actress, I most certainly have in my day, for it is the most expressive tool in our art. And yet, my voice has changed enormously since moving to France. It took me a few years to realize it, actually. I would only drop back into that deep alto on visits home to the States. The rest of the time my pitch was nearly an octave higher as I questioningly tested words and verb tenses. Gone was that reassuring flow. And it stayed that way for many years as I learned and struggled and stumbled with a very difficult language. And today? Well, I suppose that my voice has settled with time and the confidence that comes with age into somewhere in-between. It seems like there is a lot of the in-between in my life these days and that too I have to assume, to be more sure (for when are we ever 100% certain of anything) and listen keenly to another voice, my inner one.

All the better to see you with, my dear.

As for artistic voices? To live a creative life is fascinating and challenging with many colors that blend seamlessly into one another. It takes enormous courage to put yourself out there over and over again, sometimes only to be repeatedly dealt the brutal blow of rejection. But such a life is not chosen, it chooses you. This is why I have such enormous respect for those who endure. I was incredibly inspired by an article on Flavorwire featuring “10 creative women over 80 you should know.” I thought that you might be too. 

You can find it: http://flavorwire.com/441781/10-creative-women-over-80-you-should-know/view-all/

We have been peeking into secret gardens adorned with mysterious staircases that climb heavenwards blindly…

…while wondering what the view might be from above to below.

We have cat-scratched at patinas…

…and followed light’s traces from east to west, or is it north to south? To see where her elegant tresses fall…

…and where they remain pulled up chignon tight. 

For what we have realized, is that it is less about falling in love with one particular house…

…but more about the “how” of where we will live next.

We both feel a rousing need for quiet…

…and a speck of order.

Something that Arles with its casual abandon may no longer give us.

And so we are roaming, returning to villages like St. Hilaire d’Ozilhan…

…looking with eyes and hearts wide open until we are sure of what is next.

Have a lovely weekend everyone…

It was a Sunday and we all knew it and needed it. Remi and I had picked up our hard-working friends Marc and Bettina in Nimes and then headed up through the winding hills to Uzès. Uzès, how I love thee! Ben knows. He loves it too. But it is in Winter when I prefer it as the town, one of the most beautiful in the South of France, is positively empty. 

Ah, save for at Terroirs, where we grabbed the last outdoor table on the terrace. The gentlemen gave the ladies the view on the Place aux Herbes and backs against the (very much needed) space heaters. We did our best to settle in the dogs and then it was time to consider with anticipation how to give ourselves over to a similarly floppy relaxed abandon.

We puzzled and bantered over the simple yet tempting menu with the charming waiter who leaned on our table and wished that he could join us for a glass of the very nice local wine that he had just poured into our ready glasses. Decisions were made, then changed until promises of shared bites were offered.

I was tired, coming off of a week of not sleeping well. But one of the many aspects of being with our long-time friends is that they take us as we are. There is no need to put on a show or to pretend to be other. So I felt free to be quiet. 

The conversation burbled on around me like little musical notes dancing off the staff. I let my eyes do the talking, taking little snapshots of the view from our table, my camera resting otherwise in my lap. Our food arrived just as my stomach was starting to rumble and I enjoyed my delicious gratin du jour, the cheese bubbling over smoky eggplant to warm me up from the inside so that I no longer needed the polar fleece blanket placed with consideration on the arm of my chair.

We all knew our good fortune at being able to eat outside in February and so we stayed. A second bottle of wine was ordered as it was sold à la ficelle, literally by the string so that you paid only for the level of how much you drank. Because honestly, we just wanted to linger, to pull the moment like the sweet taffy it was.

We were amongst the very last to leave (that was our table at far left) and certainly no one rushed us to go. How quiet the Place was now. Full of Winter.

All the better to take a post-dining stroll, an institution in France.

And when that perambulation happens to be in Uzes…

…well, your eyes will feast as well as your belly has.

Sunday, sweet Sunday…

…I always find a home in you.

Terroirs Restaurant

5 Place aux Herbes

30700 Uzès

Tel. : 04 66 03 41 90

http://www.terroirs-uzes.com/le-restaurant.html

I have something really fun to share with you. As of today, you can walk into any French post office and buy a stamp portraying a bust of Julius Caesar that was made from a photograph taken by my love, Remi Benali.  

There are one million of these stamps available for sale!

For any stamp collectors out there, you may not be surprised to learn that only the stamps bought on the first day of their publication are marked with a special seal, which gives them extra worth. This morning, 500 people lined up at the Musée départemental Arles Antique, which is home to the bust, in order to have the special seal.

As always, I am exceptionally proud of Remi. When we stopped by this evening to buy our stamps, he was not only congratulated but was also asked to autograph the set by many savvy collectors! To see more of his archaeological work (of which I will have news in the months to come), please click here.

And so for my sweetheart on this Valentine’s Day weekend, one of his favorite tunes:

And speaking of this very sweet holiday, I was delighted to have been asked by my friend D.A. Wolf at Daily Plate of Crazy to participate in her series on Food and Love. What I wrote, as with the piece that I wrote for my Mom, comes from the heart. 

To read “Love in the terroir” please click here.

Keep sending out the Love for everyday is Valentine’s Day!