Grateful

It's quiet here tonight.  The doors are locked, the windows closed, and the lights dimmed.  The house has been put to bed.  As I sit in front of my laptop, I hear the soft hum of the fridge and Karl's steady breathing in his dream world.  Our bags are packed and we've managed to squeeze in all those extras we didn't even remember buying: soaps, dishtowels, spices, a new wallet.  We'll be leaving early tomorrow morning, heading for Paris.   We get attached to a place after staying for a couple of months.  I'll miss that towel warmer I used every time I showered, the wonderful books in the library - so many left unread, and the rose bushes growing next to the living and dining room windows where I cut fresh buds every day for the table.    We have taken lots of photos and written long blog posts so that we would remember everything.  But how can words recap the depth, height and breadth of a place! We have gone deep into a cave to gondolier on a tranquil river, climbed multiple steps to the pinnacle of old ruins to see the lush green land stretched before us, and travelled thousands of kilometers throughout the Massif Central watching the topography change from the ridge of ancient volcanoes to the twisty roads that wind their way down deep valleys.    We've heard myths of the devil carrying human souls in a bag, and legendary figures laying siege to entire towns.  We've stared into the unblinking eyes of a raptor and watched birds of prey soar on outstretched wings.  How we've enjoyed the re-enactment of brave knights and prancing horses in medieval life.  We've seen the power generated by a huge hydro-electric dam, the majesty of bygone castles, still magnificent in their ruined state, and appreciated the serene peace of a fragrant garden.  We took time to sit and listen to gentle strings, and to café music on time-honoured accordions.    But being the foodies that we are, it is the exploration and discovery of the French food that made a significant impression.  The bistros, the beautiful restaurants, the more simple and wholesome ones - they all had something special to offer.  Maybe we weren't won over with the "tête-de-veau" or the Salers Gentiane, but we loved the wild cèpe mushrooms, the flaugnarde and the steak haché.  At the top of the food chain, the highlight of my trip was the time I spent with Marine in her kitchen, watching her prepare an entire meal and listening to all her advice, hints and secrets.  That will remain for me an unforgettable experience!   More than all the sites and sounds and tastes that have tickled our senses, it will be the people who will figure prominently in the postcard of this region in our book of memories.  Starting with Annie and Peter, our landlords who were so welcoming upon our arrival, to Nanou who made us lemon and sugar crêpes every Sunday morning at the market, to the Town Crier who added colour and voice to the rhythm of the weekly village happenings.  There was also Monsieur Christian who cut the lawn and always looked super busy yet had time for greetings and a smile, and the Mémère at Restaurant Gouttenegre whom we never met but watched her cook in the background, producing old-fashioned and delicious meals.  There were also the ones without names who still made an impression: the Monsieur with white hair and clever scissors who shaped his hedges into works of art, the octogenarian who collected war-time lighters and coins, and the talented man who carved wooden replicas of blacksmiths and windmills.  And who could forget the feisty woman with a sore back who was so animated about the things she had for sale at the vide grenier.  They all meld together to give an impression of a time, a place and a people. Best of all are the acquaintances who have gone beyond "La Bise" and become friends.  Marine and Ana are women who have become near and dear to us and we look forward to a long-lasting relationship, despite the distance that sets us apart.  Plans are already well underway to have Ana's daughter come to Vancouver next summer. We leave for Canada with yet another facet of French life revealed to us.  We will search for Cantal cheese at "Les Amis du Fromage", taste honey that will trigger memories of wild flowers and buzzing bees in the French countryside, watch our eagles soar and remember another sky and another breeze.  We are not saddened by our departure, but rather appreciative of every moment we spent here.  It was an education, a discovery and a delight.    *** There are many things to be grateful "for" but, as I ripen with the seasons of life, the many reasons blend into a sacred mystery. And, most deeply, I realize that living gratefully is its own blessing.

Michael Mahoney