Deb miscellaneous thoughts February 7, 2016

*Had a quiet day in the 'hood today. There's a newly opened grill restaurant on the canal, just a couple of blocks over and we thought it would be fun to try it. There haven't been many new restaurants opening in our neighborhood since we've been here, in contrast to the many new apartment/condo buildings that have been finished. So we sauntered over, and much to our surprise, the place was jammed. Obviously, others had the same witty Sunday lunch
 thought. However, after a short wait and drinks under the heaters at the tables outside, we were ushered in for a window table. Had a pleasant lunch (grilled chicken and grilled pork ribs) and enjoyed watching the world walk/cycle/scooter/jog by on the canal. Not necessarily memorable food, but tasty and a fun atmosphere.

*The clouds were scudding by at a high rate and the wind blowing, although temperatures were fairly mild. There were interspersed periods of sunlight so we took advantage of them to stroll over into the park and by the huge science museum. I had some thoughts of visiting the museum this afternoon, but was seduced by the sunshine into staying outside. From some of the weather reports, we may be expecting rain every day for the next 10 days or so, and I didn't want to miss an opportunity to generate Vitamin D. So we got out and flaneur'd along with many of our neighbors. (flaner - to stoll without fixed purpose, observing.)

*Speaking of flaneuring, a quote from Victor Hugo in Les Miserables:
"To err is human,
To flaneur is Parisian."

*Warren had spotted a wonderful (and happily inexpensive) copper pan lid for me yesterday at the brocantes. I was delighted since I didn't have one in this size and had been looking for one since I got back from Colorado in November, having had a chance to measure the pot while I was home. Years ago, for our silver anniversary, we bought ourselves a "batterie de cuisine" of copper pots at BHV. (yes, I do know the difference between silver and copper - a Chem degree is good for some things - but cooking in silver pots is not nearly as practical.) The memory of buying those caused me to muse on the pleasant formality of buying things in Paris. When I bought my copper pots, the sales ladies were totally sympathetic to my wanting them all to have the same makers' marks, and went to some trouble to help me gather the set. Then each one was carefully wrapped in tissue and packed, so that Warren could stagger home to Denver with them in a crippling backpack. Yesterday, I bought a little piece of wrought iron, a handmade fragment, from an elderly woman who specializes in antique lamp parts. This was just a little piece out of her junk-box by the front door and it only cost 5 euros. I had even hesitated to ask her about it since she looked rather grim and formidable. However, in the usual French mode, as soon as we started to chat she warmed, smiled and proceeded to explain how and when it had been made and how I should gently clean it with a soft wire brush and so on. She then made sure I had it wrapped fully so it would injure my bag or stain it with rust. A lot of trouble for 5 euros. Similarly, some years ago, I bought a small paperweight for my mom who collected paperweights. When the sales woman heard it was a gift for my mom, she went all-out, wrapping it beautifully in several colors of tissue in a package that became a lovely tissue rose inside a matching box. Mom and I couldn't bare to unwrap it for several months. The packing and care given to presentation were as important as the purchase/gift. Just musing...

*On the way over to the restaurant, we dropped off several bags of clothes and shoes at the big charity/recycling bin. We're not exactly packing yet, but we are doing a bit of sorting and organizing. Many of the clothes we brought will be heading to Emmaus, the homeless charity founded in Paris by the Carthusian Abbe Pierre in the year of my birth. Abbe Pierre had been a member of the Resistance and after the war, he became involved with the many homeless veterans and refugees. The "companions of Abbe Pierre"  started picking rags and selling them, which began the work program which continues now, with Emmaus offering jobs to "companions"  sorting donated clothing, repairing donated furniture for sale, building housing for the homeless etc. Much like Goodwill in the US.

*Despite the short days and overcast sky, spring comes so much earlier here. There are already drifts of daffodils blooming, looking like patches of spilled sunshine under the grim, cloudy sky. Plum trees are flowering, and several sorts of bushes I don't recognize from my cold-country gardening background. Primroses and pansies have kept up the good fight since before Christmas. Today I spotted the first forsythia in the neighborhood. It always makes me think of my mom. And with that, a happy memory of a poem Lee Patton wrote about my mom and another of her favorite flowers, phlox:

                                          Flavia’s Phlox 

She’d hand-picked seeds

and planted them for us

in our new yard.  After

they bloomed, we hand-

picked starts for neighbors.

Now every June ends

with phlox’s scant scent

uniting garden to garden.

It’s only this coming June

that she will never seed.

To me, her face was a map

of some vanished country,

a better place any fool

would rather be, all routes

leading to easy hospitality.

People like Flavia made

this prairie home for us,

sunbaked plain grown easy

under shadow – cast from

the rooted energies

potent in her seeds.

Where every plant was hand-put,

every seed hand-cast to this

fragrant, gaudy fruition,

we’ll keep sharing starts

in a clump of common gardens

that started from her seeds.

By Lee Patton