The reinette seems to like Anna-Sarah’s potager a little too much. She found it in the fennels today and to be honest, we couldn’t be happier.
My days are like no other at the moment.
Don't you love nature ?
Une reinette
[A tree frog]
At times, the tiniest things can make our day.
Puces des sables [sand fleas] jumping from one castle to another. Clouds made of clay (at Anna-Sarah’s shop where I’m writing from almost daily).
Comme la rosée des matins d’été – Confiture de concombre à la vanille
[Not unlike summer morning dew - Cucumber and vanilla jam]
I walked in mud and bought some vintage tupperwares at a vide-grenier. I saw waves bigger than life. I felt them too.
Bonjour mars, au revoir mars
[Hello March, goodbye March]
I’ve felt raindrops running through my hair; and my dress too. I’ve made a cake. And another one too.
I’ve seen blossoms on every tree. I’ve walked in empty avenues, with my eyes closed and his hand on mine.
She fell in love with…
A rainbow kind of sky, as seen from my bike. It was so beautiful it made me question my love for dawn over sunset.
Ohhh such important matters…
On summer secrets – Feta and lemon dip
This is what happens when it’s summer. Or at least when it feels like it.
We swim in the sea, or more accurately, we’re forced by that wave which chose the exact moment we stepped into the water to break into – what feels like – a herd of horses.
Bonjour août
[Hello August]
July felt like a summer storm. Of the quick, unexpected kind.
It was beautiful. And much unlike any other July that has crossed my path. The rain, the cold, the golden leaves covering the pavement.
Mon écureuil
[My squirrel]
I might have a new friend. Same face. Same place. Just a couple of months later.
And yes, just as I did before, I’m writing this from a bed*.
One night of magic rush
I had forgotten how purposeless words can hold a special meaning. Just like driving endlessly on the smallest roads, with no possibility whatsoever to get lost since we have no destination.
And it feels like a moment outside of time.
Bonjour mai
[Hello May]
So apparently, May started a week ago. I would love to say that I remember how beautiful the golden hour of the very fist day of the month; but the truth is I don’t.
Bonjour avril
[Hello April]
Last night, I might not have been there when the flap clock on my wall roared and clicked – just like the train-station departures board of my grand-mother’s village – but I could feel that April was around the corner.
Eglantine
[Rosehip]
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over the fact it took me twenty-five years to realise that the églantine [rosehip] I use on a daily basis at the restaurant is the gratte-cul [itchy-bum] of my childhood; the one thing my dad used to tease me with when we went to the mountains with the hopes – most of the time, fulfilled – that our baskets would be full of chanterelles, sanguins, trompettes des morts, and other mushrooms by the end of day.
A trip in nothingness, through the pentax
I don’t really know where to start about my – our – recent getaway to Cornwall. I have seen landscapes so beautiful my eyes hurt. I have eaten food so delicious my taste-buds remember.
Somewhere, outside
A couple of days ago when Stephanie thanked me not to be a food snob, I think she didn’t realise how right she was. The proof lies in the bowl of rice I’ve just had.