Amusement de famille dans les Alpes français

I read Gina's blog and she is tagging her readers who want to play the photo game. Go to your sixth picture file and click on the 6th picture in that file. Post the photo and tell the story that goes with the picture. If you are reading this consider yourself tagged.

Mine is a picture of my hubby and I taken last December on a family ski trip to Chamonix France. We are standing in front of Mt. Blanc. C'est tres magnifique! I love everything about a ski holiday with the exception of the skiing. I love the family togetherness, the scenery, the fresh air, the food, the shops and most especially I love the clothing. I would wear my ski pants every day if I could because they do miraculous things to my tummy.

Chamonix is a spectacular little village in the French Alps. We spent five days there and besides skiing we spent one day visiting the Aguile du Midi which is a mountain in the Mont Blanc massif. At the top of this mountain a viewing platform has been constructed and the views are phenomenal. To get to this point however, a scary scary cable car ride is necessary. It is the highest vertical ascent cable car in the world. Did I mention that it was a little scary? It is a 30 minute 'ride' which travels over and across a glacier. My husband enjoyed pointing out that only a few times has one come unhinged and plunged into the glacier but hey, if that happened while we were on board at least we'd all be together. (I am quite certain this logic is flawed on many levels) Husband and daughter1 loved everything about the scary ascent in the cable car carrying 70 of us packed in like sardines. They also loved reaching the viewing platform and getting on an elevator to go up yet another 100 meters for even better views (really, what is the point...how much better can the view possibly be???) Daughter2 and I congratulated ourselves for not hyperventilating in the sardine can and for not passing out from the dizziness we felt when we stepped off the cable car onto the slightly swaying platform. And we all celebrated our successful descent with chocolate crepes when our feet touched back down on la terre ferme in Chamonix. Family bonding at its finest!

Au Revoir...Joyce

Shhh….we’re on Private Property

However, we’re in England and in lots of places in England that’s okay thanks to something wonderful known as the Public Footpath. Public Footpaths can be found throughout the whole of the country and basically allow public access across private lands. If a public footpath crosses your property you can expect to see ramblers (hikers) passing thru your garden from time to time. Even some of the grandest estates in England are affected and it makes for great walking here. There are over 140,000 miles of footpaths in England and Wales. The paths are well marked and to make life extra nice there are maps available for literally hundreds, if not thousands of walks all across Great Britain.

I belong to an American Women’s Club here which I’m sure I’ll post about sometime and one of the many monthly activities available thru the club is the hiking group. We meet two times a month, carpool to our destination (usually not more than a 15-20 minute drive) and then venture out as a group into the spectacular countryside known as The Chilterns. Due to the big snowfall we had on Monday and kids being out of school for two days we had a very small group today, just 4 ladies and 2 pups…dogs are most welcome on hikes (and pretty much everywhere else too!). We hiked around the village of Hambleden which is located between Henley and Marlow. Hambleden is a quintessential English village complete with stone cottages and a parish church and today’s bright, clear blue skies made for perfect walking weather.

The walk began with what is quite possibly the steepest hill I’ve ever had to climb but once we reached the top there were wonderful views all across the Hambleden Valley. We hiked thru woods and pastures, across farmland and back into the tiny village. There is nothing like a clear day in England-I don’t know if the sky truly is less hazy here or if it’s just that we rarely see a clear sky so fully appreciate it when we do. Anyway, we saw loads of red kites (a beautiful bird) soaring overhead and more than 50 pheasants. Thankfully I didn’t bring Dixie today. She is a bird dog and let’s just say that pheasants are not known for their ability to soar nor are they known for their intelligence and I think it’s safe to say that leaving Dixie at home enabled us to avoid a gruesome scene on the trail. I’m pretty sure it would have been all over for more than one of those beautiful birds. Today’s hike was 4 miles long and we did have a bit of ice in a few spots and the usual mud but today it was mixed with a little snow which made the woods so pretty.

Every little village here holds a special charm. Quite often on these hikes you stumble across some little piece of history too and today we rambled past the birthplace of Lord Cardigan who led The Charge of the Light Brigade during the Crimean War (that didn't go so well for him by the way). Rambling across the English countryside has got to be one of my absolute favourite things about living here.

As I was walking today the words to one of my favourite old hymns kept popping into my head...

'This is My Father’s World, and to my listening ears, all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres. This is my Father’s World, I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; His hand the wonders wrought.'

I'm hugely lacking in the vocal talent department but I was singing on the inside.

Cheers, Joyce

Let it Snow Let it Snow Let it Snow

We woke up to snow on the ground and more falling as I type. I know some of you in various parts of the US have had one snowfall after another and by the first of February are saying enough already. And my dear hubby has been having all kinds of fun at Heathrow airport since 6:30 am when his very very early morning flight was cancelled. He is right now on a train into London and then hopefully on another into Brussels later today. I say hopefully because the underground transport system is mysteriously affected by the above ground snowfall so yeah, I know that with snow comes aggravation. That being said though, a real snowfall is not something that happens very often in our little corner of England so to me this is beautiful. I snapped a couple of pictures in my back garden (that's yard to us Americans but always referred to as a garden here, a yard is just grass but a garden is so much more).

Have I said how much I love my garden? Something wonderful is always blooming (except of course in the middle of a snowstorm in February) and the variety is incredible. It was already picture perfect when we moved into the house a few years ago so I can't take credit. But, I can admire it. Alot. Alot, alot. My kitchen table faces out onto the garden thru some French doors and I like to sit at the table and just look out. Makes me happy. Sometimes while I'm sitting at my kitchen table looking out I think about moving house and I think about how much I will miss this garden. This inevitably leads me to thinking about all the other things I will miss about life in England and I usually try to counteract those thoughts by making a mental list of things I won't miss, like my micro frig with its 1950's ice trays. A crazy mind game I know but it works for me.

Happy Monday...Joyce

Dixie

The dog, not the place. I think it is safe to say that no member of our family will feel a move from the UK back to the states more keenly than our lovable almost 7 year old Gordon Setter, Dixie. In England dogs rock. She’s like a super model only with really bad teeth.

Here she is sporting some antlers a few days before Christmas (blame it on husband). Dixie absolutely loves riding in the car with the top down but honestly, I think she was embarrassed by the antlers-see super model comment above. It was a gray cloudy day (shocking I know) and when people saw her coming down the High Street in town they smiled…every single one of them. Dixie was their day brightener. She acted like a pageant queen celebrating her reign with a parade. The reality was a little bit more like How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Cheers, Joyce

Home is Where the Heart Is

Today I stopped by my friend Sarah's house to say goodbye. She and her husband are moving back to the states in a few days after 9 years in the UK. I think this is the hardest/worst part of ex pat life...the constant goodbyes. About 1/3 of the expat community turns over in a given school year. In fact, at the end of our first year here my then 8th grade daughter saw 16 of the 60 students in her grade move away. Shell shocked would be a good way to describe how she felt at the end of that school year. There really is no easy way to handle it and everyone has their own coping strategy.

Living in a foreign country on a corporate assignment is a bit like going off to college. There's a real 'we're all in this together' mentality that allows close friendships to form quickly and the community to become almost like an extended family. We originally came to the UK thinking we'd be here for 3 years and we are rapidly approaching year six. If you had said to me 5 1/2 years ago that I'd be living on one continent and my children on another I'd have said you were crazy. I'd have said I couldn't do it, wouldn't do it (insert stomping feet here). But, here I am doing it and you know what, it's okay. Better than okay most days. I've realized that God has a way of preparing us for whatever season of life we are embarking upon and the almost empty nest is no different.

We love it here. We also love it there. Sometimes people don't understand how a foreign country can feel like home but home is where you live and home is people you love and home is about so much more than your street address. I so look forward to all that is in front of me, returning to the US, most especially being on the same land mass as my children. I also know that a little part of my heart will always belong to England.

'How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.' from the film, Annie




Cheers, Joyce

Of Castles and Kings, otherwise known as, You're Never too Old for Rhymes

We (hubby and I) took a drive to Kent today and visited Leeds Castle. It's about an hour and 20 minutes from our home and it's something I've wanted to do since we arrived in England. I'm starting to feel the pressure to see and do as much as I can before we move.

Leeds is often called the most beautiful castle in England but I must say Windsor Castle is still my fave. Leeds Castle was started on the sight of a Saxon Manor by a descendent of one of William the Conqueror's lords in 1119. It moved into royal hands in 1278 and over the course of about 150 years six medieval queens held the property. Henry VIII and wife number 1, Catherine of Aragon (see I have learned stuff and more about that later) visited from time to time and his son, Edward VI, gave the castle to one of Henry's courtiers for his services. Since then it has been in private ownership and was at one time the home of the Culpepper and Fairfax families. Yes, of Virginia fame...we do love hearing about American connections in our travels.

Anyway, the sun was shining (a real treat!), it was cold cold cold, but we enjoyed walking thru the castle and especially the grounds which include a duckery, (didn't even know that was a real word but apparently it is and, while I'm at it let me just mention that where there's a duckery you will also find plenty of duckery doo!), a very large aviary of exotic birds and, of all things, a dog collar museum. That's a first for us.

Now, back to things I've learned while living here....the kings and queens of England for starters. Not long after we moved here I was telling a British friend and her husband that I have trouble remembering the kings and queens of England in order. I mean, after all, they do all seem to be called William, Edward, George or Henry. I really did want to understand where each falls in history's timeline since this country is absolutely jam packed with about a billion interesting and important bits of the past and I think it's important to know who ruled what when.

Well, quick as you can say bobs your uncle my friend's husband reeled off the entire royal lineage with a rhyme that goes like this....

Willie, Willie, Harry, Steve,
Harry, Dick, John, Harry Three,
Edward One, Two, Three, Dick Two,
Henry Four, Five, Six, then who?
Edward Four, Five, Dick the Bad,
Harrys twain and Ned, the lad.
Mary, Lizzie, James the Vain,
Charlie, Charlie, James again.
William and Mary, Anne o'Gloria,
Four Georges, William and Victoria.
Edward Seven, Georgie Five,
Edward, George and Liz (alive)

I think you'll agree with my previous statement that almost all are indeed named William, George, Edward, or Henry. And...that you really are never too old for rhymes.

Cheers,
Joyce

The End from the Beginning

I decided today was as good a day as any to begin the big clear out. That is, dejunking the house in anticpation of an upcoming move. We know we will be moving somewhere, sometime, and since I've moved house more than a few times in my life I excel at the get-ready-for-it drill.



I started in my bedroom and was immediately sidetracked by two old journals I found in my nightstand, one filled with funny things my younger daughter said as a toddler. Did I mention I also excel at procrastination?? Anyway, since I'm pretty new at this empty nester thing I allowed myself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia as I sat on my bedroom floor and enjoyed the memory of daughter 2 at the tender age of 5. I can still hear her thanking God in her nighttime prayers for her 'strong healthy body...cuz without it I'd just be a head.' : ) Not exactly the point her kindergarten teacher was making in the day's lesson on good health but a point taken none the less. Of course reading the old journals led to a phone call with said daughter in the US which left me feeling all emotional and jiggly so I moved on to something physical--shredding paper.



Some of you are smiling-I know it. I don't think I'm the only one who finds something oddly satisfying in the shredding of old paperwork. I started with some bank statements from the year 2002 which for some reason were in a file in the aforementioned nightstand (it was a gold mine actually). Now why these bank statements are with us in England when all my husband's dress shoes went to the storage container six years ago is just one of life's little mysteries which I'll write about another day. Shredding paper is a pretty mindless task (unless of course you are an impatient sort when it comes to mindless tasks so you try to slide more than the maximum 6 sheets thru the machine at once and must keep stopping to de-clog the shredder). Gave me lots of time to think. Actually, as an empty nester I find I may have a little too much time to think if you know what I mean. If you have babies/toddlers at home you won't have any idea what the words 'too much time to think' mean so just keep reading : )



There are so many uncertainties in our circumstances at the moment (like the when and where but I'll try not to keep harping on that!) A move brings many things into one's life, and at the outset of the process (and the mid point and the home stretch too!) most of these things are stresses...new job, new home, new friends, or even worse, no new friends!, wondering how I will ever find a hairdresser who will get the exact right color of my highlights, and on and on it goes. Since I'm definitely a glass half full kinda girl and always looking for the upside, I've learned that one of the bright spots in the dark cloud that is relocation is the opportunity to start fresh, in every sense of the word. While it's often wrenching to let go of a home I love, a neighborhood we're comfortable in, friends who are like family in this country we call home, and even the village shop whose owner knows me by name, I can also let go of the expectations and obligations that come with life in a particular place and time. Moving provides an opportunity to step back, re-evaluate my priorities, focus on what's really important. I can see where I've been, how I've spent my time, and most importantly where do I want to go from here. I gotta be honest and say that sounds a bit daunting but isn't it in the midst of life's greatest stresses (and moving/job change generally rank up there in the top 10 of life's stresses) that we hold onto our faith just a little bit tighter? I may not know exactly what the future holds or how the million little details will fall into place, but I can rest easy in the knowledge that the God who loves me does. And it is precisely because God is all about the details that I can choose to feel a sense of excitement instead of anxiety; instead of worry, I choose hope.

Cheers, Joyce