Rambling...c'est normal!

Dear All –
I recently came across a ‘general update’ that I had scribbled on the lap-top well before Greg’s surgery or our move…long before I had any concept of a Johnson blog! Here are a few notes from it, which I thought might be of interest:

* For those of you familiar with the band ‘Nickel Creek’ (and not a few of you are fans), our new town has actually managed to secure a track title name – a result of the band playing in Tullins’ annual Bluegrass festival in 2000 (they’ve been here twice). Yah, you heard right: bluegrass festival…the committee of which is chaired by our neighbour! The end of June, every year, for you bluegrass fans out there!
[apparently our neighbours know well “the Girl from Tullins” named in the song as well! They have also asked if we’d be interested in helping out during the festival.]

* Although not up in the hills, we really loved the area around Tullins, with it’s vineyards, orchards, and walnut groves. Apparently the 19th century French author Stendhal was like-minded:
“Suddenly is discovered in your eyes an immense landscape, comparable with richest of Titian. On right-hand side, [the river] Isère curving ad infinitum until the end of the horizon... This river, extremely broad, sprinkles the most fertile plain, best planted, and of the richest greenery. Over top of this plain, the most splendid for which France can praise itself, it is the alpine range, and the granite peaks taking shape in black red on eternal snow […] One has in front of oneself, large Som, and the beautiful mountains of Chartreuse; on the left, slopes timbered with the bold forms. The tedious seems banished within these beautiful regions [... ] I said to the guide that I was dazzled and that I wanted to walk alone; Thus nothing spoiled my happiness."
So, we’re in the ‘fertile plains’…making it easy for Kirstin to get about…but with a view of the mountains above the walnut groves that surround us. We look out directly at the Vercours range, with some of the Chartreuse range visible off to the left. [I have yet to see them “black red,” but they are all frequently an incredible pink as the sun sets into the West.]

*Tullins itself was a major town in the Middle Ages and lies at the heart of walnut-growing country. It still has its gothic church with incredible doors, and a gothic pietà and 16th century triptych inside. Every Saturday the town square is filled with the Farmer's Market [at which we got our CHristmas Turkey], and on Friday there is the Organic Market. There are numerous good bakeries. It’s almost a half-hour drive from Grenoble, and Greg will usually cycle to the Tullins train station, and train in to work. Occasionally he’ll cycle straight through. [it’ll be some time before he tries a full cycle, but most mornings he does now cycle to the train station…even this morning in the rain!]


Now, quick ‘note of the moment’:

Greg is working pretty much full time. Sometimes he has worked too late on his lap-top to get up too early in the morn, but then he’s up and out, and often staying late in Grenoble for experiments. He continues to love his work (it has its challenges, of course, but that just keeps it ‘real’), has a fantastic office-mate, and many friends and enjoyable acquaintances there.
I’ve been working, when up for it, on a chapter to be published in a book on MacDonald (the book's a collection of expansions on a number of the lectures given at the Texas conference on GMD). That’ll be done in a week or so, and then I’ll be back to my ‘normal work.’ Two mornings a week are dedicated to trying to learn the language of this country I’m living in. At times I feel really torn, using my limited energy for French, rather than thesis work, and yet I need to be able to communicate better with my neighbours, Greg’s workmates, my doctors, and, to be able to help out better with house-hold maintenance which requires communication fluency. I wish it was easier for me; that good will and intent was sufficient thereunto! But at least my ‘French mornings’ are thoroughly enjoyable – on Mondays my neighbour Chantal walks down with her 1 ½ yr old ‘Arnaud.’ She is originally from Martinique (and is about my age), lived in Montreal for many years, and then married a Frenchman. The first two times I met her, she – so typical to many French people – indicated that she really didn’t know English. So we communicated, sort of, in French. Now I realize that, typically, she meant that she didn’t speak impeccable English! She actually speaks English fairly well.
And then Marina comes on Wednesdays. She lives in a nearby village, as has her family for some generations. She is 63, and was afraid I might think her ‘too old’ to spend time with!! Fortunately the first time she arrived I could introduce to her two very good friends who were visiting for the weekend – and are the same age as she is! Mariana has been taking English lessons for a couple of years, and her son has moved to Vancouver just this week.
With both women, the conversation is about all sorts of things (today with Marina it was everything from life in Venezuela, the French names for Lent & Ash Wednesday [Carêmes, Mercredi des Cendres], the difference between hibiscus bushes and hibiscus plants, and why the verb ‘couch’ is also a synonym for ‘sofa’!) – in French and English. We correct each other’s pronunciation, grammar, phrasing, and write down copious words. And make good use of both the dictionary and the atlas. We also a laugh a lot – undoubtedly an important educational tool. They both seem amazed that I am content to be at home to do my work all day alone – if they only knew how much I love it! I tried to explain that I do love people, but that I need to have lots of time alone, for my work as well as for my rest. That I get my energy in such solitude. It is so true that it is so good for Greg to go into the city each day, to a work place with hundreds of people…and that I get to stay here in the quiet of the countryside, where I see the occasional neighbour, maybe chat with the postman (or the horses, who wait for me at the post box in the mornings), but then have just me and the cat and the birds and the mountains – often a full day with no person other than Greg in the evenings. And I love it!!

The house gets attention in bits and spurts. Liz Lockett was here to give a week of her life’s blood in painting rooms – a gift she agreed to long before Greg’s surgery. An Amazing gift. Simon came by for a night to approve of the work ;) Loren and Mary Ruth were here for a weekend of their sabbatical – and worked hard at tearing off barn roofs, painting my office, and feeding us. They arrived just after Greg’s first full week at work, a week which had been tiring and frustrating in so far as how much Greg was being made aware of how his new limitations present new challenges at work. And their presence was a gift of uplifting presence, conversation, and Being. They somehow managed to leave us with renewed energies to face the next week. Greg’s workmate friends – Andy, Sam, Tom --- have spent the night after a day of skiing in the mountains, or between experiments. All of which makes Pré Borel evermore ‘home.’

We are absolutely shocked that it is March already. Just keeping on top of the requirements of our bodies takes up a ridiculous amount of time! Our first crocuses are poking through, and the forsythia – chock full of bramblings, chaffinches, sparrows, etc – has its first buds appearing. And today I saw a dandelion! It is, after all, the season of waiting for Easter. BTW, Tullins hosts one of France’s Live Passion Plays, and several times a week I am asked if we are going – it appears quite a community event -- and I think we shall indeed.

I'm a bit rambly tonight -- the blog has been 'blogging out' awareness of a headache, but I'll use that as an excuse for rambliness. I like that word...it suits me I think: rambliness.
Bon soir!
kj