PRICELESS

A series of essays....

THE HUGHES BOYS (MINUS ONE), TWO GENERATIONS, HAVING FUN! PRICELESS!!!

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

To deem any given statement as priceless or to analyze the specific structure of a phrase or group of phrases or objects by the process of a detailed examination of its elements and describe them as priceless is saying that the qualitative value of it goes far beyond the mere knowledge that it exists and on into the realm of what we hold personally and/or collectively near and dear. By describing a group or statement as priceless we are acknowledging the inestimable composition of it to be too precious to be evaluated or fully appreciated. 

Who is truly capable of placing a price or measurable value on someone you love, a specific piece of artwork, your freedom, a place that makes you feel calm and peaceful, or any combination of ideas or events that align like the brilliant night stars to make you understand the potency of individual events that have been examined and then compiled to form a consistent train of thought? The subtle contemplation of these elements combine to fulfill the feeling of harmony and strength that each component offers, but when united, takes our emotions to their greatest heights; a probable and genuinely credible feeling of euphoria.

Many of us believe that our lives become enriched and more valuable by the simple thought of having incalculable monetary, intellectual, or spiritual worth. And, if we work hard enough, plan for them with every particle of our being, and make them the main focus and center of attention, their value will rise far above our original expectations, enriching and enlightening us with priceless rewards for all of our time and effort. If feeling happy and content, being loved, loving others, having enough food on the table and a roof over our heads, and helping others to achieve these same, respectable ideals, complete us....the attainment of these specific and extremely honorable goals bring along their own priceless rewards of contentment and self worth.

Inevitably, we have entered a higher plane of consciousness, of civilization, a plane of peace and acceptance.

WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO
ABOUT PAPA?.....PRICELESS!

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

TRIPLE THE LOVE

A series of essays.....

'PINK MOON RISING'

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

A PARIS FLOWER MARKET 

Having recently returned from the guest bedroom making certain that sheets were stripped from the bed and all towels that had been used were now in my possession to be washed, I sat down holding the envelope in my hands with a smile beaming across my face. Our guests, our good friends, our link with the past, present, and future...had left us a priceless gift, secretly allowing it to nestle among the four pillows that reside on the Queen-sized bed, in the yellow-striped room with purple accents, specifically for us to discover after their departure.

A self proclaimed lover of beautiful gift cards, she decorated the envelope with our names and miniature hearts and I proceeded to slit open the cream colored paper with surgical precision, preserving its integrity as much as possible, as memories of our time together danced in my head. Sliding the card from its temporary confinement, a Parisian flower market began to emerge as French blue pots filled with bright purple blooms were encompassed by similar sized beige pots bursting with thick, green ferns along with an ancient, curlicued iron bench weathered in rust and sporting white paint chips as if it were wearing fish scale accessories in order to impress the potted plants that regally sat upon it.

After successfully releasing the garden, inch by inch, from its captivity, I opened the 'tiny book' anxious to discover the collection of handcrafted words composing the message I was to savour, appreciate, delight in for several moments before extending the joy I felt by rereading the words a second and third time. Personal sentiments addressed from the heart, adorning paper with affirmative expressions, coinciding with our own identical feelings, with the hope of capturing similar moments in the near future...thus proclaimed the dark blue swirls. Until next time, sweet friends, this Parisian flower market will continue to remind us of you and forever connect us with your thoughtfulness, kindness, and love.

Expressly dedicated to Michael and Marsha.

PARIS FLOWER MARKET

                                       Photo Credit Marilyn A. Roofner 

  

FOR THE LOVE OF PROSE POETRY

CHARLES
BAUDELAIRE

My hat (beret?) off to those remarkable men of Nineteenth-century France, originators and practitioners of Prose Poetry, with their musical names such as Mallarmé, Bertrand, Rimbaud, and Baudelaire that seem to sing and dance right off of the tongue when said aloud. Not to be confused with short short stories or micro-stories, Prose Poetry, a hybrid genre showing attributes of both prose and poetry, may be indistinguishable from them in the end. Frequently misinterpreted as a modern concept, the style and appeal of Prose Poetry can be as light and mystifying as a full-moon rising over the River Seine at a time when Impressionistic painters, the likes of Monet, Renoir, and Pissarro, walked the streets of Paris in search of backers for their monumental works of art. 

Prose Poems can be tender little morsels of life presented Tapas style, each small, savory bite richly concentrated with unique flavors and spices waiting to burst open in your mouth, providing satisfaction through extreme intensity. Although each poem tells a story in itself....often transitioning one story smoothly into the next allows an author to connect the emotional dots between birth to death, beginning to end, while each curvaceous puzzle piece awaits its turn in assisting to complete the larger picture.

Soul searching. Concentrating on a common theme. Evoking emotions in others by means of example and personal recall. With styles as variable as the ingredients it would take to produce each story, creators of Prose Poetry offer their own interpretations of life based upon experiences and long-term beliefs that served to shape them into the individuals they had become by the time their first thoughts were ever transcribed. Location, interaction with others, religious beliefs, joy and sorrow, and economic status become power sources for those seeking this concentrated form of personal expression. From the works of Charles Baudelaire to Bob Dylan, and all of the many modern day writers who are accomplished in writing Prose Poems, I salute you!

APRIL 2017 IS POETRY MONTH

'PINK MOON RISING' 

I stepped outside last night to take a picture of the Pink Moon. Our neighbor saw me and called over to say hello and ask how we were doing. It took only a few minutes, but well spent time, for sure. Turning back to my task at hand, I was pleasantly surprised to see how you can say hello to your neighbor, talk for a moment or two and, instantly, the night sky changes colors on you as if the 'filter wheel' has suddenly rotated, red, green, yellow, and blue light....continually illuminating the silver, aluminum tree. In this case, pale pink sky outlined by dusky, gray clouds transitioned into shades of French blue capped-off by a misty crown of pale lavender. The Pink Moon came alive amidst the myriad of colors.

THE 'PINK MOON' SHROUDED
IN A VEIL OF MISTY LAVENDER

The full moon tonight will reach its peak at 2:08 a.m. The moon will be on the opposite side of the Earth and the sun will be illuminating it, making it extra bright. I can assure you that I won't be experiencing its peak and, neither will our neighbor. I did make it outside for a few more photo ops, however....while the night was still young. The white hot sphere, by this time, had positioned itself between the branches of our live oak tree simulating a large, bright ball that had been recently flung from a giant's slingshot and cast out into the depths of the deep blue sky.

A GIANT'S SLINGSHOT

But why is it called the 'Pink Moon' if, in actuality, it is so white and bright? I discovered a reason behind the lovely name.

As with most stories surrounding the titles and reasoning behind the naming of the full moons throughout the year, it has to do with our Native Americans. They named this April moon after an outrageously pink wildflower known as phlox. This wild ground flower blossoms prolifically early-on in the month of April in North America. No pink colored moon tonight. Instead we honor the rights of Spring and all of the beautiful delights it has to offer us. I can certainly handle and celebrate that!

A FIELD OF PINK PHLOX

Surprise! I woke up early enough this morning to say goodbye to the 'Pink Moon' in the Western sky while just in time to welcome the rising sun peeking its glorious head out from the treetops to the East as it was slowly rising over the Atlantic coastline. What a wonderful and amazing world this is!

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

A GENTLE PROTEST

A series of essays.....

HOLDING OUR FUTURE
IN MY ARMS

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Sitting alone in my work space, otherwise known as snuggling in a corner of the living room couch, i-Pad on lap, I luxuriate in the comforting household sounds that surround me.

Sometimes we hear the sounds that make-up our daily life. More often than we'd like to admit, we do not. Call it being   preoccupied, in deep concentration, or simply oblivious to what transpires around us....life is happening in many forms with each breath we take.

On this day, especially, I am taking the time to examine my life, my personal surroundings, and make note of each slight degree of difference that makes up my days of writing. After all, life is a rich artistic performance, full of nuance.

Today is particularly important because it is International Women's Day.....but, with a twist! "A Day Without a Woman" march and protest coincides with the celebration of women in general as it rallies for equal rights for women all over the world. The action is aimed at showing the economic importance and impact of women on society. And, yes....I'm ashamed that in the year 2017, women must continue the fight to be seen and treated as 'equals' alongside of men!

So, I am doing my part.

Today we are between guests staying here with us at our home in Florida. Part of living in this amazingly comfortable climate in Florida is celebrating the warm, non-humid days and cool, 'windows opened' nights that give us so much sleeping pleasure. Moving here from Michigan nearly twenty years ago, I know how blessed I am each time I think about all of the brutal winters spent up north.

Always having wanted to run my own Bed & Breakfast out of our Victorian home in Eaton Rapids, Michigan, I find the next best thing is to have as many relatives and friends stay down here with us whenever and as often as they can. This winter has been the fulfillment of this dream and, somehow, sharing the comforts of a home you've stockpiled with so much hard work and care with those you love, makes me happy. I, deliciously, compare it to enjoying the rich cream that floats up to the top of the glass milk bottle.

I began paying attention to the 'sounds of my day' while getting out of bed this morning and making a note of each one, beginning with the gentle drip, drip of freshly brewing coffee filling the carafe. I color most of my activities for the day in a 'gentle protest' that coincides with each and every woman who is actively marching her way into history along the streets of New York City, Washington D.C., Chicago, and Los Angeles and so many more places near and far. And, I am praying that 'she' is treated kindly by 'her' employer and/or manager if 'she' has had to call in sick or has bravely announced that 'she' will be marching instead of working at her job today.

Sitting here in my favorite work spot and sipping hot coffee from my preferred ceramic mug, I take pleasure in hearing the slightly grinding rumble of the dryer on the other side of the kitchen as it tumbles dry the pristine white sheets I will soon be making-up the guest bed with. Listening to the gentle tapping of my fingers on the keyboard as I type away is as comforting and natural as caressing my pet's head while snuggling on the couch watching television.

You might be thinking to yourself, "What is she talking about? She's working right now cleaning the house after the departure of yesterday's guests and before tomorrow's guests arrive and, she's been working on her writing since waking-up at six-thirty in the morning! She hasn't stopped working as a form of protest today!" And, from the looks of it, you would be right.

Sitting here alone today without the pleasant ring of friendly laughter emanating from the stories that resurfaced by virtue of free-flowing memories of long ago pleasures and good times shared....I have vowed to be more aware of this down time between guests. I am listening to the melodic clicking sounds of two 'battery fed' clocks that hang on the walls surrounding me and wonder if any two clocks actually tick in unison with one another. Surprisingly, right as this thought enters my head, the mantle clock in my husband's office chimes the half-hour.

The early afternoon scheduled flights of various carriers, are dropping their landing gear just north of our home as their pilots prepare to guide them gently down onto the tarmac at Orlando International Airport. They continue to float above me in intervals of two to three minutes and I listen to the variances in their engine sounds and wonder how many different passengers in these particular planes have observed our rooftop before landing for business or pleasure on the ground.

My uncle Louie was a pilot in WWII and used to enjoy sitting out on our lanai listening for the planes to float by while petting our dog, Brûlée, as they snuggled together on a comfy lounge chair.  By the time he could see them, he had determined what make and size of engine each plane had just by being so attuned to the particular sounds made by each one. I miss this visual these past five years as I miss my uncle and his pleasant companionship.

Wednesday is yard day for us and I can feel the presence of the crew in our front yard before the edgers, mowers, and blowers even begin their gasoline infused parade up the driveway. Their rhythmic roars have drowned-out the fact that my dryer has stopped. I am too comfortable to get up right now! Besides, as I recall, I am still gently protesting throughout this fine day. 

Have I ever taken notice of the humanlike sounds coming from the French door refrigerator before? Its low rumble sounds like the 'hunger pangs' of people with a strong desire for food. And, tying the two together would make perfect sense when I stop to think about it. This reminds me that I should make a decision as to what to have for dinner later. Or, should I not care about dinner today of all days?

I am so bad-ass, aren't I?

Right as I am thinking about my 'Nasty Woman' behavior, a squad, herd, group, horde of squirrels charge across the roof like there is no tomorrow, their tiny rodent paws with their elongated nails scratching the shingles the entire width of the house as they charge their way to the outstretched limbs of the live oak tree in the back yard. I know that dinner for them tonight will be the sweet buds of young leaves waiting to make their debut into the unknown world. Many of them will become squirrel food tonight.

It's already five o'clock because the mechanical whirl of our garage door opening-up reaches my ears. How long have I been sitting here writing this afternoon? How long have I taken the time to just listen to the world around me? 

The husband enters the back door as the ping, ping, ping of the alarm system announces his presence before I can even see him walk into the kitchen. I will greet him now. He will ask me about my 'gentle protest' today because he is a gentle soul who has voluntarily become fined-tuned to women in general; me in particular. A huge smile spreads across my face.

Happiness has its own sounds, too. Spreading smiles sound so sweet in the dimming light of this familiar room. I know he will gladly help me make-up the guest bed tonight after I extract the sheets from the gaping mouth of the dryer. Tomorrow evening we will welcome our guests with open arms and a home cooked meal. And wine, plenty of good wine and cheers. 

I'm pleased to have aligned myself with every other woman in the world today. My 'gentle protest' will be felt in waves of camaraderie and solidarity with each one of them. Our strength in numbers and strong will is something to be reckoned with because the Power of Women is the new chapter being written, not with the idea of overpowering men in general, or the men in our own, personal lives.... Rather, by standing tall and strong right alongside of them in unity and equality.

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

FRENCH TRAVEL ~ ONE EMOTION AT A TIME, PLEASE!

A series of essays.....

DANCING IN NICE, FRANCE
ALONG THE BEACH AND THE PROMENADE
DES ANGLAIS

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Hand in hand lovers, for the moment, swirl and sway to the rhythm and beat. An ancient voice sits beside the DJ who spins the sounds of melodies composed in another era in time. The crooner attempts to keep up with the music as his cigarette dangles, precariously, from his weathered lips. The beat changes. The dancers switch partners. Heads shift from one side to another until the women's eyes rest, demurely, on their new partner. The men hold the women with respect as their bodies begin to adjust to the new rhythms of both the music and the new person within their arms.  Life's dance continues to ebb and flow just like the sea that continually swallows the etched, gray stones a few yards away.....then, predictably, recedes into the blackness of the Bay. Their recently shined dancing shoes adapt to the changes and slowly, each new couple transforms into silent lovers, for a few moments in time. Witnesses to this ancient ritual line the shadowed Promenade above the dancers, delighted by the spectacle below. Charged by the music and the constant swell of the sea, their feet tap unconsciously; their bodies miming the motions of the dancers. With slight body movements, they suggest emotions without words. Using only gestures, expression, and movement, they align with the couples down below them; absorbing the rituals of motion and life, heartbeats blend together along the large expanse of the Promenade. Individuals blend seamlessly with those around them as the dance of life repeats itself night after night.....

THE PROMENADE IN NICE

MEMORIALS TO THE INNOCENT

I have become smitten by this magical place.

Lined with palm trees, as well as its iconic blue beach chairs, perfect for people watching, the Promenade des Anglais sweeps along the coastline, stretching from the Nice Airport Côte d'Azur to the Quai des États-Unis on the east side. Just last year, France submitted the famous pathway for Unesco World Heritage status.

La Prom, as it is affectionately called by the locals, is nearly four and a half miles of 'life' itself. A Mecca for bicyclists, baby strollers, families strolling along together on a Sunday afternoon, this pathway features cabanas perfect for a slow, uncomplicated time along the Mediterranean and the deep reflective thoughts enhanced by the azure water of the Bay of Angels.

By the end of the day, 14 July, 2016, eighty-six innocent souls would be lost forever along the Promenade. Bastille Day. A time of joy and celebration for the people of France. Equivalent to our Fourth of July. A time of Pomp-and-Circumstance. Filled with ceremony, fuss, and fireworks.....

With a heavy heart, my soul sings the 'Weary Blues.'

ARLES ARENA
(AMPHITHEATER)

WITHIN THE ARLES
AMPHITHEATER

Have you ever been lost in Arles? 

Not lost in the sense that all is abandoned and there's no hope of surviving. Rather, lost in the folds of history that tend to envelope European spaces so completely, so profoundly, it pulls at your very soul. Emotionally captivated by the simple beauty that surrounds you such as narrow, cobbled streets and the profusion of flowers, potted and sprayed along iron balconies and the ancient stones of buildings and walls like colorful silken skirts protecting the secrets beneath.....you can't help but notice several large elephants in the room. 

STAGE OF THE ROMAN THEATER

ROMAN THEATER SEATING

The Roman Amphitheater (The Arena) was built at the end of the first century AD and could hold 21,000 spectators who came to witness fights and games. Built a century before the amphitheater, the Roman Theater is its imposing neighbor. Looted for centuries for its building materials, today it is once again being utilized as the magnificent theater it was meant to be. Sitting on the ancient stone slabs that have seated millions of others just like me, emotions in the form of awe and wonderment took over and for a short span of time, it was easy to lose my sense of 'self' and become a small, silent figure lost in space and time.

PORTION OF FRIEZE
FROM ROMAN THEATER

CASCADING BEAUTY

....Arles is one of the capital cities of Provence of the Bouches-du-Rhône department in the south of France.

The Celebration of Friendships

"To thine own self be true," quote from William Shakespeare's "Hamlet Act 1" that describes the importance of not deceiving yourself or others by ignoring what your heart tells you. When a person is true to himself, it's easier to be true to everyone else.

Traveling to France this past September was a true homecoming of old friendships and deep emotion. We knew that going in and planned most of our trip around this idea.

DINNER WITH NADINE AT
RESTAURANT SOUS LES MICOCOULIERS
 

Nadine Fourré, a renowned French artist/sculptor, utilizes the 'Art of Balance' in all of her many works she proudly displays, not only in her hometown of Eygalieres, France, but galleries and Expos throughout Provence. She believes that everything begins feet under the water and incorporates her precious river finds of stone and driftwood into her manifestations of balance.  

While living in Japan for over twenty years and studying architectural design in Tokyo, she immersed herself in the art of "less is more" and gladly became a student of the stone gardens of Zen temples. Through a mutual friend, I met Nadine on Facebook many years ago and we became fast friends. I've written a lengthy piece about her artwork on my blog, 'Moving On...' and have always hoped to meet her in person one day.

OLIVE GROVE
EYGALIERES, FRANCE

VINEYARD NEAR EYGALIERES

Staying in Eygalieres, tucked in among the Alpilles Mountain chain and close to the banks of the Durance, the first night of our trip afforded me the opportunity to spend time with Nadine and get to know her better.

What joy in my heart! My excitement was beyond palatable like the delightful local organic Rosé we all sipped together and the petite, homegrown organic tomatoes still on the vine we nibbled on before going out to dinner under the stars. Ahh, the more wine we consumed, the more my emotions hung on my sleeve to be seen and felt by all who saw me.

CONVERSATION BEHIND
NADINE'S STONE COTTAGE

A perfect evening among new friends that will be cherished and, hopefully, repeated as the years go by. Thank you, Nadine, for showing us how beautiful and kind your world is. I promise to keep this feeling within me forever.....

LE VERGER

BREAKFAST

Next stop.....Le Verger, a charming Bed & Breakfast in the Luberon area of Provence that is owned and personally operated by our friends, Daniele and Jean-Philippe Rossi. I have often written about this magical place we were so kindly introduced to seven years ago. These amazing people have become more like family to us than we could have ever imagined upon that first meeting.

Having slipped through the 'surly bonds' of jet lag the night before and survived, we were looking forward to spending two nights at Le Verger seeped in informative and friendly conversation, the surrounding beauty of the Vaucluse, and copious amounts of Daniele's delicious croissants and homemade jams and jellies. We were not disappointed.

FRIENDSHIP

Daniele met us, arms wide and welcoming, as soon as we pulled in. With many tears of joy and delight shed by all of us, we felt as though we'd arrived back home.

The first evening there, we were told that we were having a home cooked dinner with yet another couple who had become friends of Daniele and Jean-Philippe around ten years ago when they assisted in helping to pick olives in the orchard at Le Verger. Anne, originally from London, married Jean-Claude, a Frenchman, and lived and raised their children in France. With Anne speaking excellent French, as well as English, Daniele reasoned that we would enjoy hearing English spoken and that Anne would have a chance to use her native language once again.

Our conversation leaned heavily towards American politics as they were, naturally, interested in our personal reactions to one of the most unprecedented Presidential elections in the history of the United States. On the other hand, we learned about French politics, as well, and were intrigued by the frank openness and general diversity of the four French citizens we listened to. At this point, Dan and I knew we had been welcomed into the fold with open arms.

OBLIGATORY SELFIE WITH
DANIELE & JEAN-PHILIPPE

Our two days swiftly flew by when we found ourselves saying good-bye once again. Vowing it would not be another seven years before we meet again and extending our open invitation for them to see us in Orlando, we waved a bientôt to two of the most giving, patient, and loving people we know. 

The roller coaster of emotions within that two day period was, in itself, amazing, exhilarating, and exhausting as time rolled on. I can remember wiping away my tears for many miles down the roads of the French countryside as we made our way to Arles for the night.....

David..David..David!

What can I say? We have been friends with David for so long now that the many years in between our last visit together gently slid by all of us. There was so much life, love, and happiness sandwiched neatly between then and now that it seems ridiculously wonderful to know that we didn't lose out or miss something along the way. And, I liberally give kudos to Facebook for helping to make this happen.

DAVID ~ HAPPY FACES ~ OPEN HEARTS

Dan and I believed in the beginning that we'd have enough time during this trip to slide down to Barcelona, Spain, explore the exotic wonders of Gaudi architecture including the Sagrada Familia, the intricate Basilica that is one of Gaudi's greatest works, and visit David and Ray for a day or two. Eventually, we realized we just could not stretch our time in order to make this work out.

Fortunately, David came up with a feasible plan and asked if the four of us could meet in the small French resort town of Collioure north of the French and Spanish border and have dinner together. We would be coming down after a three night stay in Pieusse, a small village just south of Carcassonne where we had celebrated our wedding anniversary. 

COLLIOURE HARBOR

As time transpired, we found a room for the night in Collioure with the anticipation of driving all the way back to Nice the following day. David surprised us by booking a room at La Bona Casa, as well. Finally, Dan and I were going to get to meet Ray and see David again after all this time. David and Ray were married in Spain and will soon celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary. 

CARCASSONNE, FRANCE

Ray McCall, you wily one. You slipped by us once again due to your work schedule. Now we must wait to see that handsome face of yours in person either in Florida or when we are fortunate to be able to visit Barcelona in the future.

Sipping wine along the beach front in Collioure with David and Dan, I realized the unexpected paths our life can take. Would I have thought that we'd be spending time with Mr. Ackley in France, wine glass in hand, with the beauty of this resort town behind us and the Mediterranean Sea stretched out so richly before us? 

The slight drizzle motivated us to seek out a place for dinner and we found a perfect spot outside and only a block away from our hotel. By then the rain had subsided and we ordered more wine and beer and ample food that turned out to be quite delicious. At one point, we were laughing very boisterously and with good cheer and that night, before going to bed, I realized I'd lost one of my favorite earrings. Even the next day when we retraced our steps and couldn't find the earring, I knew I could not let it bother me after having enjoyed such a wonderful time.

DAVID IN FRONT
OF OUR HOTEL

Enjoying our coffee and croissants the next morning was bittersweet for all of us. David would soon be driving back south, picking-up his two adorable dogs and bringing them back to his flat with Ray returning from his trip in a few days time. We had a much longer day in the car as we, reluctantly, packed the rental car and headed to the beautiful city of Nice for our last evening in France.

We miss you, David. We miss the laughter and excellent wine. We miss the political discussions with the three of us knowing how to keep America as great as it always has been. But, most of all, we miss you. Until we are blessed to see you again....much love and peace.

WINE EQUALS ~ JOY

JAMBON ET FROMAGE
AVEC BAGUETTE ~ LOVE

Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

DISCOVERING THE PULSE OF FRANCE: FRIENDSHIPS

A series of essays.....

"I DO BELIEVE......I DO BELIEVE, IN FRIENDSHIP AND ADVENTURE!"

.....as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


I am not a particularly superstitious sort of person. Although, I have been known to 'cross my fingers for luck' upon occasion. Usually, however, you will find me praying to my angels for help and support in navigating this amazing world we call home.

Last weekend, Dan and I were enjoying a delightful lunch at P. F. Chang's Restaurant in Winter Park Village. Even though I take the time to peruse the menu, I end up ordering the 'Sweet & Sour Chicken' every time. It was delicious, by the way! Along with our check, the waiter offers two folded, edible wafers containing a slip of paper with a printed maxim or prediction written on it. We both succumb to our own curiosity, gobble the fortune cookie, and read the tiny, white slips that had recently nestled inside them.

Several years ago, I began writing a series of essays entitled "The Road to Sablet" where I chronicled the events and personal feelings I experienced leading up to our initial visit to the south of France. The series was emotionally charged and I remember feeling like a small child standing in front of a candy store waiting to be told when I could run inside to fill-up my pail with as many sugary treats as possible. Unquestionably, my anticipation to live in Sablet for a week felt just like that.

Today, as we anticipate our second visit to the south of France, I begin to realize that there might just be something to the predictions printed on those tiny slips. Am I becoming a true believer of these minute forcasts after all of these years?

"Many memorable adventures are in store for you," unfolded before my eyes and it didn't quite 'send me over the moon' considering I've always felt that living and enjoying my every day existence is quite a 'memorable adventure' in and of itself! It did intrigue me, though.

My curiosity was not aroused to its fullest potential until Dan unfolded his slip which read, "Old friends will spark new adventures."

Even though we will be celebrating our wedding anniversary in France again this year (not too shabby, I know), this particular visit has been concentrated around the sensation and general theme of 'reunion.' The intent of our celebration is one of friends coming together to joyfully fill in the gaps of information based on the lack of recent physical presence, and bind together a fissure that was designed and created by space and time itself.

Our story begins.....

Several months ago I heard that a rediscovered friend (friendship), which had been rekindled by social media, but continually fueled by similar interests and genuine camaraderie for the past several years, was thinking along the same lines as we were. Michael, a fellow Francophile, and his wife, Marsha, were hoping to discover the many historical and artistic attributes of Provence this year. At the same time, Dan and I were planning our return trip there.

Provence is the geographical region and historical province of southeastern France. To visit Provence is walking in the footsteps of Paul Cézanne, Vincent van Gogh, and Auguste Renoir, now famous painters who converged on Provence, drawn in by the climate and clarity of the light which is partly the result of the Mistral winds. This particular wind of Provence tends to be cold and dry and often removes dust from the atmosphere which greatly increases visibility.

To explore Provence is to imagine the influences of the Greek traders who lent their name to the Rhône River, the main river of Provence. The fertile land along the Rhône cultivates stellar grape crops that serve mankind well by producing a magnificent variety of Rhône Valley wines.

To understand Provence is to infuse oneself into its history, savor the delicious Provençal fare, drink her wines, and really, really get to know the people who live there.

With an open heart and mind, we wondered if Michael and Marsha might like to share time with us in Provence. We were delighted when they agreed. Within a week or two, at the most, accommodations were booked, a vehicle was slated to be rented, and airline tickets were purchased.

We will be meeting up with them in Avignon, capital of the Vaucluse, an intoxicating city full of history and rich with life. I have often written about the glories of and the gracious 'gems' to be found in this fair city and warn visitors to heed the siren call because Avignon will entrance you and you will never wish to leave.

Accompanied by good friends, from here on out, reunions and celebrations will abound. We are packing as much as possible into our ten days in France while allowing ourselves enough time to breathe in and enjoy the beauty that will surround us there.

From our 'room with a garden view' we will traverse the cobbled streets of Eygalieres and meet up with French artist, Nadine Fourre, renowned for her 'Sculpture en Balance' with a Zen influence of stone, driftwood, and sand. Michael, our friend and talented artist in his own right, will delight in this meeting as we hope to tour Nadine's studio, discuss ideas, and glean a better understanding of the art movement within France.

From our 'room with a balcony' at Le Verger, Chambres d'Hotes en Luberon, owned and operated by our friends, Daniele and Jean-Philippe Rossi, we will once again be completely charmed by the beauty of the Luberon. Dan is savoring a repeat performance of immersing himself in the culinary delights of Daniele's homemade croissants and fig jam! My heart and eyes are aching to behold our friends again after so many years (and numerous grandchildren on both sides) of being apart!

Then it will be off to Arles where we may traverse the Gallo-Roman theater or walk in the footsteps of Vincent van Gogh and, with any luck, observe a 'Starry Night Over the Rhone' firsthand.

Our next to last night in France, Dan and I will be meeting up with friends, David and Ray, in the resort town of Collioure, France. David and Ray moved to Barcelona, Spain several years ago from Orlando, Florida. David's invitation included a grand tour of Barcelona which will have to be rescheduled due to time constraints. However, Dan and I, wholeheartedly, look forward to our personal Spanish tour the next time around.

It is off to Nice, and our last night in Provence, to enjoy an evening stroll along the Mediterranean and navigate the narrow avenues of 'Old City' for dinner and conversation before flying home in the morning. Who could ask for anything more?

If we are extremely lucky, we might be able to meet with our friend, Claudine, in Aix-en-Provence for hugs, kisses, and an apéritif along the avenue Cours Mirabeau. You may recall through my earlier posts how Claudine assisted in getting our rental car returned to us after it had been towed away during our last visit to Aix. We have been indebted to her ever since.....

As yet another year of growing together side-by-side is cherished and celebrated, Dan and I know how much we have to be grateful for. We never take anything for granted.

We are looking forward to 'old (and yet to be discovered) friends sparking new adventures.' Michael and Marsha are testaments to this, already!

My personal thrill is holding the pulse of France in my heart via all of these fine people who have and will contribute to the many stories I have left in me. Stories to be written, shared, read and reread as time goes by.

Similar to the Irish storytellers and historians of old, the Shanachie, whose speech and gestures characterized their art, hopefully, the written words of modern storytellers (writers) will encourage and emphasize our need to travel and communicate with others around the world.


Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
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