Carcassonne

The weather in southern France has been rubbish this past week.  Rain, wind, cold, some hail, 5 minutes of sun and maybe a rainbow… all in the course of an afternoon.  A bit of Nova Scotian weather to help prepare us for our return.  After several days holed up in our Mauvezin farmhouse, the Hainsworth/Bennetts headed to Carcassonne on Thursday for the final sightseeing tour of our 2013 European odyssey.

Carcassonne is a walled fortified city (another World Heritage Site) built along the southern frontier of the French kingdom in the 12^th century, although parts of the existing fortifications were built by the Romans 1000 years before that.  Perched atop a hill and visible for miles in all directions, the fortress is a quintessential fairytale castle - the kind of castle that every kid imagines and tries to build on the beach.  After centuries of disuse, the French government was planning to demolish it, but some forward-thinking citizens fought to save it and in 1853, the castle was restored by architect Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, who also did the restoration of Notre Dame cathedral in Paris. 

Inside the walls, most of the old cité caters to tourism, the unfortunate but inevitable consequence of a World Heritage Site designation.  Still, it’s a very charming old town and after strolling the outer ramparts, climbing castle towers and visiting the keep, we found a restaurant serving some basic regional fare and enjoyed an affordable 3-course lunch (cassoulet for Meg and me, savoury ham, egg and cheese crepes for Eva and Sarah).   

Eva demonstrates the wind strength on ramparts

On our drive back to Mauvezin, the skies opened (again) and the torrential rain continued through the night.  We’ve all decided that this cold miserable weather for our final few days is really a blessing in disguise.  Otherwise, it would be nearly impossible to leave this place.

Sweet tooth heaven

New Music and New Friends

The hands of Fatima, and some other stuff!

It has always been a dream of mine, to perform in Europe. My studies always kept me in North America, and I never got to one of those European summer programs, so the idea that music, or serious music lives a fuller, better appreciated life here, that it belongs here, has always lived in me. And I still believe it. Sue and I felt that when we heard the Concertgebouw Orchestra in March: We felt at home because the music was at home!

So needless to say I was pretty chuffed last week to get to play music here, twice in a single weekend!

A few months ago I introduced myself by email, to Heddy Boubaker through a shared improviser friend from Quebec. My plan was to get a couple of shows, (this trip wasn't about music it was about experience!) meet some people and hopefully pave the way for some more concerts in the future.  Heddy invited me to play at his series in Labarthe sur Leze, with a French percussionist Toma Gouband. I was very excited to meet both these guys. In London I had a lovely experience, but I knew this would be quite different.

And it was! La Maison Peinte is Heddy's house. Each month he hosts a show, in his living room, people are encouraged to bring some food, and no admission is charged (although a collection is actively done for the musicians). Many on Europe's improvisers have passed through, yet it still remains accessible to lesser knowns, like myself. There are "no" costs, a regular audience and zero financial risk for the presenter. Perfect conditions for improvised music, and guys like me!

Norm in Maison Peinte by Jer Lacoste

The venue is like no other. Every inch of wall on the main floor has been covered with some sort of art, object or construction: There are dolls (lots of dolls) hanging, stacked and strung, there is a mobile section, a Chinese lantern section, a "hand of fatima" section. There is collage, paint (very thick paint on the cupboards doors: like a relief map!) glued paper weights, little hats....I could go on but I think my brain stopped processing visual stimulation after an hour of looking around! The audience sat on teh floor and in chairs, they were about 25 in number: young and old hippies, little kids, guys in suit jackets, women, and other musicians. It was a beautiful cross section. Just the way I imagined a European music audience! The music was made up of Tom playing a solo, (Toma plays stones placed on drums and cymbals. He strikes them in very precise ways with various natural implements rocks, branches, pine cones etc. and make a broad variety of very controlled, very conscious sound and pitch. Sue said it sounded like a prepared piano!) me playing solo and a trio with Heddy, who played analog synthesizer and viola. It was very interesting, as these situations, where you don't really know the others, can be. It was a negotiation, a handshake and a debate, a meeting of sounds and minds, and of course a meeting of cooperation and listening (they aren't always but this one was!) Afterward the performers and audience had couscous. I talked with some of the audience, the hippy kids seemed most open to talking to me, probably because they had a bit of English (my French was in full force this past weekend believe me, I was pretty proud of myself!). Sue and I were the first to leave, but I had a feeling the party was far from over! I'm sorry to have not been able to stay longer.

In Sarrant, with Laurent and Sophie

Sunday was dancer day - I've told you about my meeting with Sophie Cournede of Sarrand in a previous posting, but I was very excited to work more with her and to meet Laurent Paris, a local percussionist both Sophie and Heddy had said nice things about. This concert was very different of course, because of the movement, but also because I had met Sophie a few days before. Laurent and I struck up an immediate chemistry I thought. So the situation seemed far less foreign and we had a nice time playing together. Not to say that I knew what to expect, though! Sophie is very influenced by Butoh dance and I saw some of that in our first session together, but much more of it in this concert! There was makeup, and a costume and lots of roses, with petals being tossed about. It was quite different that what I expected, so I had to negotiate a new kind of playing. Luckily, Sophie and Laurent have worked a lot together, so it was easier to slide into their groove a bit before trying to do any pushing! But the atmosphere was nice, much of the village was there (the cabinet maker, the bookstore owner, the lady from down the road) and probably some others (not that many people live in Sarrant!) totalling another 25!

This concert showed a work in progress. I don't think it met my expectations, but showed great promise for a future meeting, where I think we could really establish something. The best part of the show was afterward when we drank wine and talked about the work, and relished our new friendship. They were both so happy to play with me, and I was so happy to have played with them!

I'm sure that I can come back here, to make more music. And I'm sure that the friendships I've made can lead to more work, more music, and even closer ties to this part of France that I love so much!

And I fulfilled a dream, and the dream was all I could have hoped for: not just making music here, but meeting musicians and artists here, and making friends and forming ties here that can grow and continue! I'll be back.

Barça, Barça, Baaarça!

Following closely on the heels of the Sayle/Adams family, the Hainsworth/Bennett’s whirlwind tour of Barcelona was highlighted by visits to two of the greatest monuments to Catalan  culture - Sagrada Familia and the Camp Nou. 

I won’t recount our very similar Sagrada Familia experience - Norm’s great post the other day captured many of the same feelings and thoughts we experienced.  Suffice it to say that it is my favourite building ever.  Norm, I will gladly accompany you on a return visit to see it completed in 2028 (or so), in’shallah.

The Camp Nou is home to arguably the world’s most famous football (soccer) club, FC Barcelona and the world’s best player, Lionel Messi. The “bucket list” of many a futbol fan around the world (including yours truly) includes watching Barca play at the 99,354 seat Camp Nou stadium. On Sunday night, a few hours after arriving in the city, we hopped on the subway for a short ride to the stadium.  As we left the subway it started to rain, so we were thoroughly soaked by the time we got to our seats, way up in the third tier of Europe’s largest stadium.  The Camp Nou is usually sold out, but since Barca had already clinched the Spanish league title the week before, there were only 56,000 fans, which is why we were able to get tickets. The pouring rain may have also deterred a few regular Barca fans.

20,000 umbrellas!

The game started and ended with the crowd singing Cant Del Barca, a rousing chant that includes a series of triple hand claps and finishes with “Barça, Barça, Baaaarça!” reverberating through the ground.  Everyone knew the words, from the 4 year-olds sporting their Messi and Iniesta jerseys, to the 70-ish couple beside us. FC Barcelona is unique amongst football clubs - it’s owned and operated by its supporters - and the club has become a huge symbol of Catalan culture. The away team was Real Valladolid and we had some fun trying to comprehend and replicate the Catalan announcer’s pronunciation, which sounded like a series of only vowels, “buy-ah-oh-eeh”.  As usual, the game was dominated by Barca, with two first half goals sealing the outcome. 

Happy family, but mostly the boy in the middle

It was unfortunate that we didn’t get to see the injured Messi work his magic on the field, but he came out for the trophy presentation after the game.  Just as the game ended, the rain finally stopped and the championship celebration began.  To the strains of “We are the Champions”, the Barca players and their families, coaches and staff came out to accept the La Liga trophy for the 22^nd time. Confetti cannons and laser lights flooded the stadium with burgundy and blue and then, right over our heads, a fireworks display to rival any Canada Day celebration.  The players did a victory lap with the trophy to salute their supporters, who stayed to the end despite being cold and drenched.  

The party after the match

We followed the joyful crowd onto the subway and back to our hotel, changed into some dry PJs and crashed into bed feeling a bit like real Barcelonans.

Very cool!

Visions

Senor Gaudi

"The straight line belongs to Man. The curved line belongs to God"
Antoni Gaudi

Antoni Gaudi, now there was a guy with a powerful artistic vision: The Sagrada Familia is an ongoing testament to that fact.

Many of us make plans everyday: My work project plans take months, Life plans can take years, dinner plans can take minutes. Gaudi made plans that extended over more than a century and a half, through two world wars and a civil war, and who knows how many popes? He made plans that extended beyond himself, beyond his own ideas, and even beyond his own lifetime. Heck his work and name even inspired the word "gawdy"! It's truly epic.

Our experience with Gaudi on Friday, began with a long walk through the streets of Barcelona, past the modernist buildings of the block of discord, pausing at Sagrada Familia and ended at Gaudi's Parc Guelle. 

To me Sagrada Familia is easily my favourite building we've seen on this trip, maybe my favourite building ever! It's so powerful on so many levels: It's huge, (And getting huger. When the big "Jesus" steeple is built, it will be the highest steeple in Europe) It's jaw droppingly, organically beautiful. AND it challenges: the establishment, the people of Barcelona, and us all to view religion and spirituality, architecture and artistic vision and collaboration in a very advanced way.

Look at that light!

The building is amazing because it's stone pillars transform into palm trees as they rise to the lofty ceiling. Light filters into the room in glowing colours (I can't wait to see what it's like inside when all the stained glass is finished); It seats a choir of 1000 along with 4 organs; It's a study in symmetry even while it disguises that fact in flowing lines and natural shapes. It's shaped like a church on the inside, but looks like a completely different building from each exterior side. The Passion entrance is hard and stark and severe, the Nativity entrance is playful, and organic and celebratory (heck he's even got an angel playing the bassoon!) The grand entrance (once the 9 story apartment building that's cramping Sarada's style is torn down) will be glory, open, huge and welcoming.

Gaudi was a generous collaborator. He once said: "Copiers do not collaborate". His plan was so grand that he had to share this project, (and most of his plans were burned during the Spanish Civil War....) but I think he wanted to leave a large legacy to other architects and artists to complete. Many of these artists, who have worked on this project for years (not as many as Gaudi, yet), have their own styles and views, but have always managed to be harmonious with the building, and what I imagine Gaudi's vision must have been. 

Look up, look waaay up

I'm not a religious person in a traditional sense. But this building, made with the cooperation of so many; this project, conceived of, in such a mind blowingly epic scale; this temple, that brings worship, past "church" and out into nature, into the real world, through the organic shapes, design elements and a powerful sense of the natural world....well, it makes me want to support the beatification of Gaudi for sure!

Gaudi had a completely unique voice, set the bar so high and dreamed so big, you can't help but be inspired. And I can't help but be inspired by the people of Barcelona who have supported his dream since 1866! I can't wait to go back, and see the changes, maybe even see it completely finished around 2028 or so.....

The light above the altar. This section of roof was only finally closed in the 2000's! After 140 years of work

That's a circular staircase

Happy family at Parc Guelle

Lions and Tigers and Snakes

We've had quite a few "never before" experiences over the past 100 days and today we added one more.  Being in the country, one expects to encounter some local wildlife and we've seen and heard our share here - geckos sunning themselves on the walls and walkways, a baby mouse in the pool, deer in the wheat fields, huge iridescent beetles and cuckoo birds.  This morning, I finished shaving in our en suite bathroom and stepped out into the bedroom to see a 4 foot black garden snake sliding past the foot of our bed.  My first thought was "now there's something you don't see everyday," followed closely by "should I tell Sarah before or after I get rid of it?"

I decided to tell Sarah as I walked to the kitchen to get a broom and pail, at which point she screeched and bolted out of the house.  Meg came bounding into the room to see the snake while Eva ran to her bedroom to "save" her iPod before running outside.  The snake squeezed under a door frame into the space between an adjoining door with Eva's bedroom and it almost escaped into the other room, but some quick work by Meggie on the other door kept the snake contained. I dropped the bucket and tried to push Mr. Snake into it with the broom, at which point he started hissing and sprayed a nasty defensive scent (like stinky cheese, according to Meg).  After a bit of a rethink, I decided to hold the snake on the floor with the bristle end of the broom, then push him through the bedroom and out the front door.  The poor snake, in shock from his rather frightful experience with a menacing broom, scurried across the driveway into the grass.

One of our gecko house guests

Later in the day, we took a drive, stopped and got out of the car to look around. Eva, a wee chip off the old block, points to the ground behind Sarah and says "Mom, there's a snake!" 

He would have loved it

This past week we had the pleasure of welcoming family and friends to our country home here in the hills of Gascogne.  With room for at least 14 guests, it's an ideal place for big family gatherings - one hardly notices there are a dozen people kicking around! On Thursday, Emily Faulkner (daughter of Chris and Joan, our very first Halifax friends) and her boyfriend, Quinton, stopped by for 2 nights on a tour of the south-west.  Emily has been in Tour since September doing the 3rd year of a French degree. The following day, Susan and Mary H arrived from Geneva, Mary having flown into Geneva from Toronto the day before.  Susan stayed for the weekend, then drove back to Commugny in horrible holiday traffic.  You are my hero, Susan!  Thank you for bringing yourself and Grand Mary to enjoy this beautiful place with us. 

Auberge de Rantaures - the grill

Mary spent a full week with us in one of the few regions of France she had not visited. We went to Auch, the capital town of the Gers region and meandered through the tiny villages of Sarrant, Cologne and Solomiac.  The adults, Bennett/Hainsworths and Sayle/Adams, were treated (by Mary) to a true Gascogne country dinner in the tiny hamlet of Lussan at Auberge de Rantaures ("restaurant" written backwards).  The chef cooked our meals in an open fireplace on one side of the dining room, which was an old stone-walled room filled with quirky wrought iron sculptures.  The duck, lamb, beef and fish were fantastic, as was the local red wine. Everyone went away satisfied and thinking "we have to come back before we leave!"

As if that wasn't enough, Mary offered to take Sarah and I to a nearby Michelin 2-starred restaurant, Le Puit Saint Jacques, for lunch on Wednesday.  For foodies like me (and my late father-in-law, Howard) a Michelin starred restaurant is the Lionel Messi of cuisine, although Howard would have used a different analogy, perhaps the Mozart of cuisine.  Our meal, as expected, was fantastic and we talked about how much Howard would have loved it; not just the meal, but everything here... immersion in the French countryside, the markets, the wine, the history, the language and most of all, experiencing it all with his grandchildren. I couldn't help but imagine Howard and I wandering through town markets and foie gras farms searching out ingredients for the evening meal, visiting the local vignoble, stopping for restauration at an outdoor cafe, then cooking up a feast for the extended family.  Like kids in a candy store. 

Here's to you, Howard.  

Universal Translator

Yesterday was a most and inspiring day. And it all started Monday morning with a salami sandwich.
I take that back, it all started a few days ago with Sarah returning from an excursion through the amazing walled village of Sarrant asking me, somewhat dubiously "what is Art Intuitive?" I felt like I had an idea, but a quick Google search led me to Sophie Cournede, Sarrant's resident yoga instructor,and improvising dancer/mover! On a whim I wrote her an email asking if we could meet. I'm not sure what gave me the courage, but there you go.....4 months abroad does things, you know? We exchanged email en francais and set a meeting time for Wednesday.
Back to my original story: It felt like there was a stone embedded in the Carrefour salami, but I knew better, from experience that I had broken a tooth. After a few calls and carefully planned messages on dentists answering services, the phone rang. And my day's adventures in outrageous language usage began.
I negotiated a description of my problem, and an appointment with a dentist for Wednesday morning. That worked.....and Dr. Rieu proved to be a most speedy and anaesthetic-free dentist. 20 minutes and €46 later I was out of there with a rebuilt tooth and a warning from M. Rieu: if it keeps hurting come back.......
My ride that afternoon was to be a series of hill repeats, a desperate, and probably futile effort to get ready for the +10% grades of the Pyrenees. It was cut short by a clank and and a clatter of a very specific spoke of my rather snazzy Mavic Ksyrium rear wheel, breaking. what are the chances of finding one of those spokes? Who had time to think? I learned the word for spoke from the dictionary ("rayon" FYI....) called the bike shop in Auch that fixed my crank and sold me a new tire! Another
negotiation! Phones are hard for us learning French speakers. We can't read lips we can't see
e gestures... we just have to wade through the accent and mumbling and jargon, and understand! They said come by. But that was not the least of my worries, I had an arty rendezvous. Off I went to Sarrant and Sophie and I talked about our lives, and small towns and the struggles we all face, with funding struggles and complacent and intimidated audiences. I struggled, but I got most of my ideas across. she helped, but my French was still better than her English!
Her space was in one of the ancient houses of this microscopic village. We drank tea al a menthe (she had been in Essaoira at Christmas) and sat at her little table in front of the house. We went upstairs to her yoga space to play together. This was amazing! Heavy, ancient wooden beams white stucco and exposed wood, a new hardwood floor, and shape that was nowhere near rectangular, and sunshine flooding in the single window. A space made for art. We began. Her movement was a nice combination of butoh, which she has studied, and contemporary. It was easy for me to see and understand her intuitive story. I felt the movement in my own body the same way I do with my work with Gwen Noah and a few of the other movers I've played with over the years. I love the physical tension that transmits from the dancer to me, and how it feeds and informs the sounds that I make. With Sophie, I recognized her language, despite our short friendship, and our obvious cultural differences! (I would like to state that this is not a "music is a universal language" blog posting. This may be a fact, but it's not the point here!)(I hope you'll get the point later....) After the first piece she asked if I'd like to do a show with her and a percussionist from Mauvesin. I said bien sur! After the second piece she had a date in mind! (I like like artists who are organizers too).

Here come the points: There are two - 1: what a privelige it is to an improviser! We exist in a world where two people can meet and make art with not so much as a "how do you do?" (Comment ca va?).  Few other artists are as lucky. I drove home elated, refreshed, inspired, honoured and excited for our concert, one that will bring in a few people, a little money, but that will celebrate and showcase our art making: our intuitive, abstract, but very human and international relations!
Point 2: where did I get this confidence? This whacky ability to converse and negotiate in French with three different specialists in one day? Where did I get the mental capacity? It's so exciting to think that maybe this is all sinking in a bit, and I'm learning French.

The trip has been great, but this is icing on the cake: I've met a new friend, been inspired by  movement and a place, and been reminded of my work! And I've realized I'm not afraid of stumbling along in French.

Of course now that we're in Spain we have a whole new language problem.......

Sweet 16!

What a great place to have a 16th birthday.  And how lucky to have your family and your grandmother to celebrate with you.  And homemade birthday cake from Sue Sayle, with candles.  The celebration started last night with macarons, presents and a fabulous al fresco dinner in the "outdoor" dining room.  It continues today with more presents, and a special dinner...Happy Birthday Eva.

Ashes of Roses

When I was a teenager, I read The Thorn Birds where the main character, Meggie, wears a dress of a colour described as "ashes of roses" which I always thought was such a romantic description of a colour.  While we have been here, we have been taking pictures of all of the different colours of roses and peonies, and lilacs and irises, cotoneaster, pink and white chesnut trees, wisteria, geraniums, poppies and pansies, wild broom.  Here are some of the flower colours that we have seen: mauve, magenta, red, pink, peach, blush, purple, orange, white, yellow, brown, dark yellow, rose red, bright pink - an unbelievable array draped about the walls, roads, houses, hillsides and churches.

.

Ashes of Roses

 I dream of having ashes of roses cascading down my summer walls - and then I remember that I have a shady backyard where no roses will grow.  And that's sounds much more depressing than it needs to as I survey our kingdom here in Gascony.

Senses Working Overtime

See The Pyrenees out there?

The blog has been tough for the past few days. The constant influx of new sight and experiences has slowed. We’ve come here (en Dimanche outside Mauvesin in the Gers region) to stay in one, new place. So writing has become a more internal exercise for me. But the lack of new stimuli seems to serve to heighten my other senses. As tacky as it sounds, it’s true.  

It is probably the decompression from my normal, Canadian life, and from the travel and constant moving of the past month. The new balance of our days here (drink coffee, ride bike, practice cello, read books) allows me to perceive differently. So I find myself noticing: colours are deeper, tastes are stronger, smells envelope me, and sounds? Well, I’m a listener, and becoming more of one each day!

big airplane models: Those are wings!

We are quite deep in the countryside, so the darks at night are darker, even as the stars burn brighter. But the sounds….. Well, the quiets are certainly fuller, I’ve noticed it at night especially: there really aren’t any busy roads near us. The only real interruptions are aircraft overhead. (Coincidentally, Toulouse is the home of Airbus, the aircraft manufacturer, which gave us the startling view of these plane parts on their way to the plant for final assembly, obviously they can only be driven late at night…sounds noisy…) During the mornings, I feel like the birds sing louder and more complex songs here, and coupled with the relative silence, the air is drenched with their songs!

Yesterday, Sue and the boys and I drove into Toulouse (my first trip off the farm, except to ride!) and found a lovely old part of the city with narrow streets and interesting boutiques and beautiful architecture. On the way home, we stopped a tiny foie gras farm (ever wonder where your foie gras comes from? Well we can tell you!) and bought a morsel for us to sample. Today we’ll go to Isle Jourdain to the big Saturday market to see how it differs from that of Divonne and other 200 markts we've seen on this trip! 

Toulouse balconies

Unfortunately I’m aware that this dream is all coming to a close. We’re in our last three weeks, and I find myself withdrawing a bit from the others here, to try to absorb all of these sounds, sights and smells even more, before it’s too late and we’re back to normal. Luckily our house here has plenty of room to find a quiet hideaway, to enjoy the song cycle around me!

The Geography of Leisure

Having fetched up in paradise here in Southern France, we are finding new rhythms and ways

of travelling.  Our home for the month is sprawling with many areas for 8 people to find space to pursue leisure.  The house itself has 3 different sitting areas (the kitchen, the living/dining room, and the formal living room).  Outside, there is the Andy Warhol area with a suite of outside living room furniture, and a table that seats 11, and 2 gigantic Warhol prints of Marilyn Monroe and Liz Taylor.  This area is used for evening meals, and quiet reading by 1, 2 and sometimes 3 people.  There is a table just outside the kitchen where one can read, or eat, or have an afternoon beer.  Then, there is the pool, where, if it is not occupied by teenagers, one can set up on a lounger and read, or nap, or do nothing at all.   The last place is the log just outside the kitchen door where the geckoes sun themselves and scurry away as you approach.  The days go by surprisingly quickly - a flurry of meal preparation, sporadic discussions about the Kentucky Derby, the October Crisis, the Giro d'Italia, or what video to watch, a bout of exercise - jogging up and down the half kilometre driveway, riding bikes, swinging on the homemade swing, swimming, badminton.  And every now and again, we will catch each others' eyes and exclaim "how lucky are we!".  Lots of space, lots of time, a wonderful bookshelf with an eclectic collection of books, sunshine, green and not much else.  Pretty perfect.

Worth a thousand words

In the country

We are now settled into the Gascogne, near Mauvasin, near Toulouse: The middle of nowhere, France. Being in one (very comfortable) place, after a month of travel and absorption is a welcome change.

mysterious Sainte Leonard

Our house is large with two sitting areas a big kitchen and rooms for all plus guests, the pool (yes the pool!) is freezing (a first world complaint), the stars are bright and the birds are deafening!

The riding is amazing too. I’m slowly building volume up, (in preparation for the arrival of Ted, later in the month and our 3 days in the Pyrenees (ouch!)) after our month of travel and sporadic exercise, and here it’s easy to slide out the door, and ride on quiet and rolling roads. The terrain is a little like central PEI, except with longer and sometimes steeper hills. There are some great flatter ridge roads but villages tend to be at the tops of hills or at the bottoms, so there is always a climb in or out, and an often twisty and fun decent out or in!

Today I did a 65km loop through places like Mauvasin, St. Leonard, Sarrant: a village every 5 kilometres or so, and roads that were like PEI for their volume of traffic.

It’s needless to say that I rode along, and dreamt up all kinds of metaphors about how a great ride is like life, and how perspective is best gained on the bike blah blah blah, but I decided mid-ride to leave those musings to your imagination, and avoid sounding like a slightly pompous Forrest Gump!

But the mist was heavy at the start, and each hill crest presented a new shrouded view of fields of growing grain, sand coloured farm buildings with tiled roofs. As the mist burned off, the views got longer, with a million shades of green, poppies providing contrast on the road’s shoulders. Fantastic. I found myself shaking my head in disbelief again and again. As I have frequently over the past 3 months.

Right now as I sit outside our kitchen door, I hear a cuckoo, four other birds with more complex songs, a woodpecker, bees and flies buzzing (and nothing else!) and I just spotted a little lizard dash across the stones of the patio.

Toby just walked by me and heaved a spontaneous sigh of contentment, and Meg said “oh, it’s awesome out today”.

misty view

growing