Bonjour from France

Oh how the cold bites through to the bones this Winter. At times my brain feels frozen, denying nary a moment for warm reflection. But today, as the sun peeks through a hazy sky cover, and understanding that tomorrow the temperatures will drop again for the next while, I take this pleasing interlude to reflect.

Ten years ago last month, I came to la Charité sur Loire for the first time. I had never heard of this town before, coming only because an acquaintance had a holiday home here, and being it was two hours from my beloved Paris by train, or car, and I felt it was the moment for another French adventure.

I arrived to la Charité by train, but not from Paris. I flew to Lyon, and embarked upon the train there for the three-hour trip. It was a beautiful journey, though the sun set early, and I arrived to la Charité in the dark. The house was beautiful, but being winter, this old stone house was cold. The next morning, I was excited to see the town, but desperate for coffee, my first outing took me to a nearby café. I was indeed considered an unusual, and I could feel a curiosity from the other folk. Was it the accent, did I look so very different, or was it just that women aren’t meant to go out for coffee alone early in the morning? It was grey, and it was wet, and it was cold. I felt no desire for a walk about the town, so it was back to the house where I lit a fire. Pretty much for the month of February, my first trip to la Charité sur Loire, I sat by the fire with fine wine, books and Toro.

Who is Toro you may wonder? In 2011 my Uncle Guy passed. He was 91. Truly, a lovely man, and happily for me, both a kindred spirit, and a friend. After our father went away, Guy was the older man in our lives, and my mother depended on his support greatly. He was ten years older than she, and her death at a youngish age, was difficult for him. My mother was taking care of him as he aged, as he had taken care of us. His well attended funeral, in the church he worshipped, was a testament to the many friends and acquaintances who treasured this quiet, delicate soul.

I was surprised that Guy had money to leave to his kin, and being that he was a life long bachelor without children, his estate was divided between his 5 nieces and nephews, and his church. It was around this time that my business (always on the edge) needed another financial boost, so I offered this inheritance to my bookshop. I also felt very strongly that my Uncle Guy who loved and lived for art, would appreciate me purchasing a work I adored, in his memory.

I longed for Toro, a Spanish bronze sculpture I discovered in a gallery in Paris. Each time I would pass the gallery, I would experience an irresistible urge to stop and stare through the window at Toro. A young bull, seemingly shy, but longing for constant admiration. I was certain he had no desire to fight neither man nor beast, though he most certainly understood, and valued his strength. When the money from Uncle Guy’s will was dispersed, I sent a poem I had written about Toro to the owner of the Gallery, who agreed that Toro was meant for me. We came to an agreement for the purchase, including shipping to my home in Vancouver; but for some inexplicable reason, when I booked my holiday for la Charité sur Loire in 2012, I asked both the owner of the house I was renting, and the gallery owner, if it was okay to ship Toro to this small town in Burgundy. I know both wondered with immense curiosity why, and actually, intellectually, so did I, but emotionally it felt sincere.

I look back now, and realise it was at this time my subconscious understood it was time to alter the status quo. The years moved along, not unhappily, but clouds of stress hovered, restricting creative thought. I came back to la Charité sur Loire many times, the owners of the house I rented became friends, and Toro was content in this old stone house, waiting for me to weather through the years that saw my personal revolution burst forth.

And it did.

Five years ago, I purchased this old stone house, in France.

So, here I be, 10 years hence, sitting by a fire in my library, with Toro. Oui, my life has evolved. La Charité too has changed. Everyday I look at Toro, I think of Uncle Guy, and the gift of his relationship both me and my siblings shared. Many relationships feel to be lost, but I prefer to think they have been taking a sabbatical in the geographical ice box these past few years. And when our bundle of frozen treasured memories thaw, our warmth and longing to connect again, will be with us.

Kisses from France,

Barbara-jo (Madame M to you!)

PS Spring French Curiosities have been posted and you should be receiving them shortly. Being that I have not sold any other books from this house, my petit livre Le Double Alphabet de Ma Maison des Mots has been declared a bestseller. Reservations for Maison des Mots are coming through the wires, and soon, Maison des Mots will be singing with a jovial spirit (desolée Minette, I know you and Toro have become accustomed to our quiet and delicate moments together).