Being, in France.
Moving to France came with a lot of big changes, no surprises there.
There have a been a lot of small changes too, and all these small changes have led to the biggest change of all. A different way of life has brought with it a totally different way to be.
Bread and bird watching.
In New Zealand we made our own bread, but we never had a boulangerie (bakery) just around the corner. Now we do.
So, I start every day with a walk into the village to pick up a baguette for lunch and a ‘pain complet’ (whole wheat) loaf for toast. I’m accompanied by whichever of the kids woke up first (almost always Aurelia) and our only deadline is to return before the other wakes.
Some mornings they wake up together, and those walks are the most fun.
Our walk starts along the bank of the river, and the birds in the trees are most active at this time of day. Perhaps it’s the early morning sunshine warming them out of their slumber, or perhaps it’s the smell of all that bread.
I don’t know the names of all the birds, but I know they’re not just sparrows and blackbirds. Not that there’s anything wrong with sparrows and blackbirds, but I’ve seen them on my lawn every day of my life. The thrill of discovery is gone.
Our new winged friends are a myriad of colours, a symphony of song and the kids are delighted to meet them on our morning walk. Pointing out every pigeon, and asking me for the names of those new to us. When I don’t know the answer, we make up new ones. Now it seems that Vindelle is full of ‘Vinniebirds’ and ‘Reyabirds’.
Busy.
After breakfast and beans (coffee beans, that is) we are immediately busy, in the best way.
If it’s a weekday, that means I’m busy working while Becs is busy making our house a beautiful home. The kids mostly keep themselves busy too.
On the weekends we take busy to a whole new level. The four of us spend the majority of those 48 hours outside, in the sun, taking on the most land we’ve ever had to manage. We’re pruning trees, moving rocks, cutting bamboo, pulling weeds, removing stumps, and mowing grass.
Some of the grass was so long, we were literally making hay while sun shone.
As a lifelong sufferer of hayfever this could have been the worst part. But it’s the best. I’m lucky.
We got a sweet deal on a ride-on mower.
My wife is a total badass who taught me how to use it.
My kids have never laughed like they laugh when they come for a ride on my lap, and steer our way around the trees.
See, lucky.
Breaks.
A break from weekday work is one thing, but the weekend breaks are straight-up bliss. Sitting in the shade with a beer, eating the ripe plums that have fallen at our feet, we watch the bugs.
We saw a hummingbird moth yesterday. It floated around, wings moving so fast you can’t see them. It sipped nectar from little purple flowers on some weeds we haven’t pulled yet. Becs and I were just as enthralled as the kids.
Bloody, Bruised, Burnt, and Bitten. Brilliant.
This is how I finish my weekends.
It’s too hot to wear a shirt, let alone long pants, long sleeves and gumboots. So the bugs bite me, the nettles sting me, the brambles… bramble me? But I don’t care, it won’t stop us getting back out there next weekend. We’re making progress, we’re having fun, we’re breathing fresh air, and sweating under the hot sun. It feels good. No, it feels brilliant.
The Boss.
The French word for ‘boss’ is ‘chef’, so when I say Becs is a boss in the kitchen, I’m right in two languages.
I’ve always looked forward to dinner time. This was true in NZ, but it’s more true now. I didn’t think our dinners could be any better. I was wrong. There’s a secret ingredient.
French produce.
French produce is magic.
It tastes like magic, so it must be.
I don’t cook often enough, mostly because I’d rather eat a meal that Becs made. Maybe French produce can be my secret ingredient too, but I’ll never be the boss.
This is how we be.
A few small changes in our way of life have brought about whole new ways for us to be.
Being aware of all the birds and bugs around us.
Being grateful for the delicious bread, and magic produce.
Being motivated to make this house and land as good as it can be. Not by the thought of selling up, or turning a profit, but by the thought of simply…
Being here.
