the light in the house.

i imagine this is what is playing 

This morning i got up before the sunlight, i was going to chase the fog but i soon discovered that there was none,  i made my way out through the green mountains anyway. beautiful frost could be seen everywhere glistening like chards of glass, i captured it,  as i walked into the woods my fingers cold, frozen in fact i stood next to the lake as it to looked like deep blue glass stretched out to the hovering pine trees.

I drove some more,  the sun became so bright that it was almost blinding as i made it down and up the mountain and around sharp curves in hopes of getting  coffee at a town across the mountain, but everything closed on this holiday day.  i turned around and made my way back up the mountain, then i saw the house that i have coveted for so long,  a freshly for sale sign  hanging on it's fallen down fence. i had to stop, i had passed this house a hundred times or more saying one day i would walk around it and through it. I need it, nothing fills my spirit than a house with history. Oh dear friends, not only was the house magnificient but it had  a very large care takers house with such incredible light. I turned the knob and i was in, running from room to room, the light, oh the light my truest companion.

I am in love, that is often the case i know but this dear friends could be a future project, one that takes years but one that gives one purpose. I heard it say yesterday that one must work hard because that is the only chance we have to  reach the silver lining, I believe it to be true, for i am already living a dream here on the hill and i feel that way every single day, every time i look out the window, sit next to fire, feed the horses or feel the sunlight coming in.

happy thanksgiving to you and yours.

with kindness
nadia

when the rain comes and your cup is spilling over ( happiness)

continued from here

the rain came as i sat there listening to the sounds around me and watching the three people i love the most laugh and giggle while they made parodies of me in their skits on our make shift stage. i laughed hard and somehow how it was as if the last of the sand in the hour glass that must have been me before the horse, the farm fell through. the page turned for good.  the fog came in and all at once k, elle and dylan said auntie you might want to take pictures.  even though rain still fell gently i gathered my things and asked if anyone wanted to go for a walk, everyone did and we headed out from our camp site down a dirt path and wooded stairs a canopy of towering trees drenched in rain surrounded us. this is  happy, i know it is.  i listened to everyone talk as they pointed to this and that as we walked. we arrived at the bridge over the river that we had spent our day swimming in,  the patina of the iron on the old bridge, the glistening wood from the rain fall,  filled my senses. we took pictures and walked some more to an abandoned house, a facade i had seen when we first drove in to the state park the day before. we took pictures of  what once must have been a beautiful farm house by the water and that hurricane irene tried to wash away last year, how beautiful was the sun setting through the windows. rain started coming down hard and everyone started heading back, but i lingered just a little longer, i counted the windows & green worn out shutters, some odd habit i picked up from childhood, like the amount of tiles on the floor or ceiling. i walked back behind the others completely drenched and content, for i was truly in the moment doing the very thing i needed & wanted to do.

the scent outside and in the house.

it is monday, another week of rain promised, i am not sure how i feel about that. I love the rain i kept saying to myself last week as rain fell from morning till night but slowly i felt burdened by it. as if i would not be able to catch up with all that had to be done. i stared at my cultivated piece of land, my empty flower bed while my mind never stopped thinking. finally sun came on saturday, i was up before it was and out before it fully found it's place in the sky. running to the hardware store, then the farmers market and library. once home i cut the grass that grows so fast, specially after all that rain, i made rows in the garden and chevron striped lettuce beds ( why not). i moved horse pasture and cleaned out the barn. Oh this is what life is supposed to be enough physical activity to silence the mind ( calm it).   finally lungs were wide open breathing in the purest air i could find, one smelling sweet of newly cut grass and then, a call came and just like that all the thoughts that began to quiet down fully erupted and came crashing down. life played itself as it had so often before making sure a piece of the pie was left for heartbreak. i wiped tears walked out underneath the trees where the dogs lay gave them big hugs and then i laid in the hammock under the birch trees staring high through delicate leaves to  blue, blue  sky as i slowly swayed from side i found my center. a few moments later my neighbor loulie came with a bouquet from her garden of forget me knots and lily of the valley, it was lovely. we sat underneath the lilac tree sipping freshly made hibiscus and orange peel ice tea as the sun began it's decent.  now i am here writing this down staring out at rain while the loveliest scent of lily permeates the room telling myself  i love the rain, i love the rain, i love the rain....

the montreal i used to know ( the geraniums at the window)

 when i was younger i moved to old montreal into my first loft. at the time there was hardly anything in town, just empty buildings, cobble stone streets  an obscure Jazz place " air du temps"  and a few restaurants in the center. my  loft was housed in a run down building, first floor belonged to  sculptors, second floor chefs, third  floor painters, fourth photographers and fifth musicians, i lived on the fourth but i could have lived on the fifth too for i made  money to buy film by playing drums in the subway , yes i did but to hear me play today you might say that people dropped coins in my hat out of pity.

on my last trip i started noticing a shadow of myself walking along side of me, whispering about the montreal i used to know. the quiet winter walks along the side walk edge. the greys, the weathered doors and handles and dirty french panes. so much has changed now, every building converted too condo's restaurants and shops. only those with a certain income can live there now and i am not sure if  it ever gets as quiet as i remember but just for a moment i heard the sounds and saw scenes from a place i used to know, just for moment i saw a reflection through the geraniums covered glass of the  person i used  to be and a place that helped shaped who i am today.

Paris chez mon oncle!

how i love paris, how many times has that been said. i could not wait for a few days in paris. i was going to meet my uncle for the very first time (i am not sure why i had never before). he lives right there in the heart of paris so perfect a location that i dare not say:) as i arrived at the foot of l'apartement and rang the door,  i had butterflies in my belly for i must confess of being a little nervous. My uncle and i hit it off instantly- i mean instantly we chatted till early morning the first night and every night after that.  we walked  all over the city.  i had told him no more fancy restaurants and how i craved street food and the clichés of paris and how it was must that i sit sipping coffee at  a cafe at least three times a day he completely agreed for he had a love for coffee too.

walking in paris there is truly no better, i felt like fresh new oxygen was being pumped in my veins. my uncle is not only incredibly stylish ( much expected from a perfume maker) but engaging, funny and completely open, i laughed so hard, we laughed as if we were childhood friends. as we walked threw out paris my uncle shared stories of his youth, every glimpse was a window to my mother and grandmother the biggest gift is to hear stories such as these, my heart filled instantly with pride and awe.

we also went and spent time in montmarte and the funny thing is, i had told my uncle about my time in Dordogne a place he had never visited  but when we arrived in montmarte there was a food festival that brought the whole region of dordogne vendors to paris, i even recognized a few:). we would end our nights at home, more cafe being made, my uncle is the best at it, not to mention a wonderful cook. morning i would sneak out of the l'apartment while my uncle still slept( we would talk till at least 4 am every morning)walk around in search of the perfect coffee but then i would  get overwhelmed by the choices that i would come back to the apartment where my uncle would make the perfect cup for me while we chatted on his beautiful terrace filled with gorgeous geraniums and olive trees.

the next day was filled with more walking, he would help me shop for gifts to take back home, we would test macarons from every place that made them then compare. our favourite was cafe pouchkine were he spoiled us and sent home the largest most beautiful box of macarons for his sister( my mum) he spoiled her and me. He also picked up some chevre and blue for me to take home and i had it every morning for weeks back here on the hill not to mention wonderful face cremes, perfumes and such. To say that this was anything but the best of times would be a lie, it was wonderful and getting to meet and spend time with my uncle walking, sipping and chatting was the highlight of my trip to france so much so that when i came back to vermont i actually found myself missing my uncle like i would a dear friend.

merci mon oncle.

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