Iconic Images

Do you need to see another picture of

any of the countless icons of Paris?

We saw them.

The Rodin, Picasso, and Cluny museums.

D'Orsay, Louvre, Notre Dame.

Le Tour Eiffel, L'Arc de Triomphe,

Luxembourg Gardens, Tuileries,

Chanel, Hermes, Louis Vuitton.

The list goes on... 

I have pictures and ticket stubs

and amazing memories

to enjoy when ever I want.

 

Today I offer a few of the humbler images

that will also represent Paris to me ...

 

 

including the cobblestones.

 

This is our terrace. 

 In our neighborhood. 

The three windows represent the hallway, living/dining area and the bedroom. 

 The building across the street was a community rec center.  One weekend it was used for an artisan's fair.  The next weekend it housed a vintage market.  During the week classes were held there.  I watched from the terrace windows as fencers performed their warm-up drills.  Dance classes included the tango and flamenco. Grace in motion.

 

 

Our wardrobe which, thanks to  

Naphtali's lavender sachets,

 smelled like summer sunshine when we opened the doors.

 

 

This is a terrible picture, but,

on the far left you can see that the women's skates are

made to look like high heels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

I should have taken more pictures:

Umbrellas piled inside shop doors.

Dapper men in their toggle coats.

Laughing women d'un age.

Children.

Dogs.

Plates of beautiful food.

Display cases of beautiful food.

Windows of beautiful food.

Menus.

Impossibly small tables

laden with lunchtime paraphernalia

with the diners shoehorned in

around them.

The overhead coat racks.

 

Surely, someone has taken those pictures

and compiled a wonderful book

or created an instagram album

or Pinterest page

 to help us

relive the unique experience

that Paris represents

to each of us.

 

I'll have to look...

 

 

 

 

 

Bon Appétit!

In general there were three questions

asked after my return from Paris:

What did you see?

What did you buy?

What did you eat?

 

This was the most difficult

post to compose.

Hardly surprising when we consider how the textures,

aromas, presentation, and accompanying

soundtrack of conversation and clinking tableware
contribute to our dining experience
as well as the actual taste of the food.

Alors, in no particular order,

a few impressions:

 

Our breakfasts of variations on

 toast or croissants,

 cheese,

creamy yogurt,

and mandarins

were a delightful start to each day.

 

We cooked at home several times

with frozen selections from Picard (!)

or fresh-from-the-market ingredients.

Local-resident chic.

 

Bread.

 

Omelette Concorde at Ladurée?

Delicious in it's simplicity.

The macarons purchased on our way out the door?

Everything I expected.

 

Bread.

 

A leek soufflé with champagne butter

and caviar at Bon Marché?

Exotic.

(That's Naphtali's butternut soup in the foreground)

 

Fresh tomato basil soup on a rainy day stop at

Galleria Vivienne?

A reminder of why I leave certain

tasks to professionals.

 

Wine and frites to fortify us for the final

leg home on a late night.

Bracing.

 

Bread.

 

The arrival of my chocolat chaud:

two small pots

- one of chocolate,

one containing hot milk -

flanking the small white cup

in which I will mix my own drink.

Decadent.

 

We scoffed at the warnings of the dangers

of sidewalk crepes - until we shared one.
 

Haricots, mushrooms and potatoes

will henceforth elicit

an inside-joke smile from me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fragrant reminders

 

 

The official start of each day was marked with

 the invigorating burst of citrus

as the first mandarin

was peeled. 

 

(We consumed soooo many of these little gems.)

 

In the way that warm and cold currents run through

a body of water

the aromas of Paris washed over us in turn.

 

Baking bread? Check.

Melted butter?  Bien sur.

The sleepy scent of chocolate?  Mmmmm.

Falafel?  Just around the corner. 

 

Fresh cut trees.

Roasting chestnuts.

Espresso.

 

 

 

 

Flower markets.

Fish markets.

Herbs.

Oils.

Cigarettes.

The occasional cigar or pipe.

Today's special.

 

 

Lavender sachets.

Soaps, lotions,

and perfumes.

She chose SacreBleu.

 

Close at hand

 

 

My visit was further enhanced

by various tactile expressions: 

 

Vin chaud and a new wool wrap

to ward off the chill.

 

Stiff linen napkins at Ladurée.

 

The heft of silverware at Musée D'Orsay.

 

Heavy, elegant menus.

 

Chilled fingers

stealing heat from a cup of chocolate.

 

Silk wall coverings at the Carnavalet.

 

The supple warmth of

a nutella crepe.



 

Eric Bompard's cashmere.

 

The exchange of bills and coins.

 

Sorting through bins of used books.

 

Vintage furs, silks and leather bags.

 

New "furs" and silks.

 

Soothing lotions.

 

A hot shower and warm bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Evocative echoes

I loved my trip to Paris.

It was a sensory-intensive experience

from beginning to end.

 

We had many drizzly, but mild, days of

walking to and fro

about the city, absorbing the nuances of its 

quotidian rhythms.

(I wish I'd snapped a shot of the le Pain Quotidian)

My clothing selection was

adequate

- which is all I had asked of it -

in light of the laundry

facilities in our

charming apartment.

 

So, what did I hear?

 

I was awakened several mornings by the

sound of the rasping broom of a

street sweeper below our windows.

 

 

This pianist livened the street corner

at a flea market on a dreary day.

 (We kept hoping the ladies would break into song.)

Rain on my umbrella.

Church bells.

The organ at Notre Dame.

A boy's choir performing the Hallelujah Chorus.

A piano recital in a nearby church.

The melody of conversation.

The whine of approaching motorcycles.

Car horns.

An accordionist on the metro.

Street musicians doing their best with the Beatles.

Laughing children.

The click of heels on cobblestone.

Late-night revelers.

The hushed reverence of memorial places. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Sunday Night

 

I baked an apple pie for some friends

earlier this evening and the fading

aroma is competing with

tonight's shrieking winds to put me in a

cozy frame of mind. 

I was actually on my way to bed

but the opportunity to cross one

more item from my list

was irresistible.

 

Our fall weather has taken a turn toward

winter which means

blankets and sweaters and coats

that would ordinarily not

make an appearance

for another month

have already been put into

 rotation.

 

These were my favorite shoes this fall: 

 

 fun and comfy, they've logged many miles.

 

These clogs from Dansko have 

proven to be a good choice

and have been perfect with jeans

or a skirt and tights.

 

Our flight to Paris leaves in less

than two weeks. 

My packing list has yet to be finalized.

The idea of being able to do laundry

tempts me to pack

light, very light,

 making every choice critical.

Or not. 

 

 

 

 

Packing Report

This was the original packing list from our recent trip. 

I've crossed out the items I didn't use.

 

4 sleeveless/short sleeve layering pieces:

berry

gray

charcoal

ivory

4 long sleeve tees:

ivory

tan

charcoal

mustard

3 V-neck cashmere sweaters:

navy

gray

teal

3 button-front shirts:

denimish

gray/teal plaid

gray paisley(tunic length)

2 pants:

white cords

charcoal

1 navy skirt and tights

1 charcoal wool blazer

 

With temperatures unexpectedly warm

- upper 60s and 70s -

layers weren't necessary.  I never wore the blazer.

We didn't do any "fine" dining, so the skirt

remained in the suitcase.

 

It's reasonable to assume that many pieces

can be eliminated, because

in Paris I will have access to laundry,

but, December weather should call

 for some layering pieces, so

I'll be looking for that happy medium

to allow more room for

shopping!

 

These items worked for me.

The color combinations were easy and

flexible.  I felt well-dressed and appropriate

in my choices.  The white cords were

fun to wear, though I don't see them

making the trip to Paris.  My boots

proved to be very comfortable.  I had casual shoes

in the bag, which I did wear, and need

to decide which pair of

shoes will accompany my boots

across the pond.

 

Overall it was a relief to see how versatile

the carry-on bag can be. 

It eliminates a certain amount of "stress"

to know that I can do this,

though it's not a convenient system if there are several

overnight stops involved. 

Everything had to be loaded and layered

rather precisely in the bag

(it was full)

which made for less-than-fun repacking

every morning. 

I'm looking forward to having a destination

allowing me to unpack once.

 

 



Monday Night

I find myself at the end of a busy weekend

looking forward to a busy week.

 

So a short recap of the trip to

Minneapolis is in order.

Driving.

Laughing.

Eating.

Shopping

Laughing.

Eating.

Scrabble.

Laughing.

Eating.

Driving.

 

Naphtali took good care of us.

We're all still speaking so we can

call the weekend A Success.

The weather was mild so the red coat

didn't make it's debut

but tomorrow's walk to work will remedy

that situation.

 

This morning it snowed and

though it is that time of year and you know

that snow can fall at

any time, the first

snowfall always seems so unexpected.

Little more than a

light dusting, it still

packs a psychological punch.

 

My calendar actually looks rather full this week.

My work week starts tomorrow.

A lunch date Wednesday.

Quick trip to Webster City and back on Thursday.

An open house that evening.

Friday night I'll help serve

Thanksgiving dinner at Kennybrook. 

 They're expecting 360 guests

- three dining rooms, three seatings -

I'll be at the library all day Saturday,

 partying that night

and finish the weekend by

working Sunday afternoon.

 

I think it's time to set my clothes out for the gym

in the morning and

head to bed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Saturday Night

The day is winding to a close.

The radiators have us all feeling coddled

and a scrumptious dinner has put

us in a mellow frame of mind.

Chickpeas with cumin and tomatoes

fingerling potatoes roasted in olive oil and rosemary

grilled chicken breast

a salad that defies its simple designation

warm baguette with dates and feta.

 

How will we'll actually remember this evening?

A good meal after a busy day

served with love by candlelight.

Aidan whistling nonchalantly as he scootched

his chair toward the light switch.

Waving a cutting board under the fire alarm.

Several times.

Dogs inching closer to the table.

The butterscotch versus caramel debate.

Laughter.

Plenty of laughter.

 

Tomorrow will find us headed home

- trying to avoid construction delays -

and thinking about our own

projects to tackle before winter.

 

We have everything - and a few extras -

crossed off Naphtali's list

for  this weekend.

Her cottage is cozy and ready for

whatever weather comes their way.

Aidan's homework is done.

Grandpa is tired.

 

And we'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

Surrender

Who am I kidding?

 

There will be no wrap-it-all-up

posts to finish the trip to Oregon.

We returned about a month ago

 and I don't know how that is possible.

 

Much has - as it does - happened in the last month

and keeping up is enough of a challenge

without always trying to catch up.

 

So forget about a description of the

incredible fresh crab bisque

I enjoyed at the coast.

Not going to happen.

 

There will be no tales of

grilling fresh fish

fingerling potatoes from the garden or

steamer clams.

 

Fajitas

 featuring peppers, onions and tomatoes

from the garden?

You'll never hear about them.

 

Fresh eggs from backyard chickens?

Pretend it didn't happen.

 

The polite, handsome,

cowboy/students

who offered to replace our broken

windshield wipers in Laramie

will not get the ink the deserve.

 

The last blurry, rain-soaked

seventeen hours in the car to make it home

will simply remain a memory.

 

I'm through talking about it.

 

 

It's 5AM Monday morning and

I'm headed to the gym.

 

 

 



Short Shrift

I'm afraid Mt. Hood and remaining portion of our trip

are going to be condensed.

 

 

Lessons from Daily Living 101

interfered with our plans

 for a day of hiking on Mt. Hood, but the necessary

phone calls were made,

details feel into place,

a late start was deemed better than no start

and we drove over to the mountain

on a cloudless afternoon.

 

Mt Hood is a beautiful sight. 

Unfortunately, an unexpected camera glitch left

me with no pictures.

You'd be right in guessing we took the long way

and enjoyed our glimpses of it's  

classic, snow-capped shape as the curving road

brought us closer.

 

Tim and I also went on our own

one afternoon when Jacob was working and

found Lucia and Moulton Falls

near Battle Ground, WA.

 

 

 We clambered around on the rocks,

Tim picked up bottles and cans left by

inconsiderate partyers,

and we marveled at the size of the trees.

This was the type of old Pacific coast forest region

that I'd been expecting.

 

Food?

The food deserves better treatment

than to be summarized thus:

it was great!

So I will put together one last post

soon.

 

 

 



Sauvie Island

The next stop on our recent travels

in Oregon was Sauvie Island.

Only 10 miles from Portland, Sauvie Island is

a blend of agriculture

and wildlife.  And shipping.  There are several camp grounds

and a marina of house boats.  It's one of Jacob's

favorite local spots.

 

 

My guess is that this is the Sauvie Island

excursion boat.

 

But this one is on its way to the ports.

As we stood there we googled the name of the ship

and were connected to a real-time gps signal

 tracking it - including our location - and its

progress toward Portland.

Who knew?

We drove through orchards and truck farms.

These are hydrangeas

- one of several fields -



 

and the were surrounded by fields of roses.

 

We stopped at a local market and bought

apples

sweet corn

pepper jelly

and a beautifully utilitarian market basket.

 

We followed a sign to a nearby orchard,

looking for gravensteins,

and heard some of the local

history/legends from a woman who grew up

on the island.

 

A good day.

At Last

We left our driveway around 6 AM

on Monday, September 9.

Arrived in Portland

around 5 PM, Tuesday.

 

Wednesday was forecast to be hot so

we planned a day along the coast.

Taking windy back roads to get there made

the trip fun from beginning to end.

 

These pictures are from Tunnel Beach

near Oceanside.

This bit of cliff (?) juts out and during higher tides

separates the beach into distinct sections.

 

Enter:

 

The view from the opening: 

 

Exit:

 

Esteban, Jacob and Tim on the other side.

 

 

The cloud banks never did lift.

People we talked to explained they

were looking for agates

which wash up along this particular stretch of beach.

They were pretty intent 

so we gave it some casual effort

and found a couple teentiny samples.

 

We also found:



 

As we wandered along that day it was

inevitable that I would compare this beach

with other beaches I've enjoyed.

 

 

When someone hears those five letters

- b - e - a - c - h -

chances are they will access a picture completely

different than the one I conjure.

The variety is endless

and the personal associations, priceless.

 

If we both hear

- g - i - r - a - f - f - e -

we will probably have a very similar

 - fairly standard - response

 

because it's unlikely that either of us has

a personal giraffe experience

to help define our images.

(this one comes courtesy of googleimages)

 

 

I'll be back soon with more from Oregon

 but for now

here's to a day of lovely reflections

of your beach experiences.

Home again, home again

We pulled into our driveway about 1:00
this morning.
We covered 4300+ miles in
six days and had a great time
but it's hard not to think
that we were
one phone call away

from being in Estes Park last week.

We drove through an edge of the system that

settled over the area as we went through

Cheyenne and Laramie last Monday.

And, again, as we came

through yesterday.

 

During our sojourn in Nebraska

we enjoyed so many wonderful days
hiking around Estes Park.
 

 

Entering Big Thompson canyon always

took my anticipation to

the next level. 

Glen Haven was a favorite stop.

 

It's hard to imagine the hard work

ahead for those who will try

 to reclaim what was lost.

Today was busy with
unpacking
laundry
cleaning the car
groceries
etc.

Tim ran this morning and
I made it to the gym this afternoon
for the 5:30 class. 
Tomorrow we'll be tired.

 

Portland was expecting temps in the upper 90's

 today so we decided it would be a good time to visit the coast.

 

We drove up to Oceanside and frolicked along

the beach.  We had just learned

about agates found along the beach

and spoke with several people who were

happy to show us what

they had found. 

We actually found a few. 

And had a great time just dawdling around.

 

Crab bisque at a local eatery was

more than delicious.

 

At Garabaldi

- a working port -

we purchased fresh clams

and two kinds of fish

which we grilled for supper.

mmmmm

 

We found a couple back roads,

taking the long way home

and enjoying the sights.

 

Tomorrow - Mt. Hood.

Columbia River Gorge

Multnomah Falls 

Yes, we went to the bridge and 

this

is that view.

Horsetail Falls:

You can walk along a path behind the falls.

This is Tim, Jacob and Charlie as they came out the other side.

Tuesday started with a trip to Ecola State Park - near Cannon Beach.

We climbed across a trail which cut through the traditional Northwest Pacific forest 

that I had been expecting  all of Oregon to look like.

At one point the trail moved to the front of the bluff and gave us

 this glimpse of the beaches ahead. 

Crescent Beach - which is below us and to the right 

is where we landed.

Cannon Beach is forward - you can see Haystack Rock toward the top of the picture.  

The tide surges between the rock in the center and the cliff face making it impossible

 to walk to Cannon Beach at certain times from this side.

We clamored around rocks in a fairly protected area -

There was a haze over the mountains in the distance adding to the beauty of the morning.

Along one rock face there was a tunnel allowing access to a section of beach that would otherwise be cut off by the tide.  We were there just as the tides were changing and with a bit of artful dodging we were able to make our way through the tunnel to another area.

These next two pictures were taken as I stood just inside the tunnel. 

The dogs - Charlie and Esteban -  had a lot of fun.  

We found sand dollars but very few rocks or shells apart from a few stray piles 

of oyster shells alongside several fire pits along the beach.