The dogs and I went to the country to check on our house, make sure we had enough oil to heat the stone foundation before we spend a few days of vacation there freezing our butts off. We were out of oil, oops. Thank God I checked. Mr. Salignant a local beverage deliveryman and the only old timer equipped with an oil delivery truck in our region, agreed to meet me on a dryish day. Our house is at the end of a farmer's path one that is extremely muddy at this time of year. He delivered 500 litres of oil for .87 euros per litre. Won't last long, but will get us through the Spring since we won't spend much time in the house until it warms up and the sun shines down on les monts du lyonnais. After all my years in the Hudson Valley, I just cannot bear the cold of Winter and being stuck inside because of bad weather. I guess I shoveled my walkway one too many times and lost my romantic view of it all.
Mr. Salignant is a man of few words and those that he speaks I can hardly understand because of his very thick local accent. There is a patois in this region and when they speak quickly, I have no clue what they are saying. He is a bit too curious about my life. I must be such an anomaly to him, to just about everyone in these parts. I can't imagine what they think of me. I am just super friendly and have learned not to talk too much, not to reveal much about my life. Better to remain mysterious and unknown.
I was struck by the calm of the country compared to the bustling city I live in, Lyon. I wondered why I don't spend more time in the country, why I don't allow more silent space in my head, because I miss it. I thought about how much more connected to myself I feel in the country. I wanted to write, and jot things down. I wanted to just sit and breathe, something I never feel able to do in the city, always have to be moving, accomplishing something. I felt good. I made a plan to come back later this week, just for a few days, before we go off to London to look at Universities for Hallie. God time flies.



