France

Each trip to France is a little bit different. Most things stay the same. The beach is still there. That restaurant by the beach is still there. The castle in the hills is still there. But the quality of each trip differs with the company. In other words, each vacation changes depending on who else is there when we are.

And these changes aren't black and white, or good and bad. It's just that I can see things in a new way when I am with people seeing them for the first time. Some vacations include a lot of sightseeing and driving distances, and other include massages.

This year we arrived to an empty house, and my parents arrived a few days later with some friends of theirs we had never met. Lucky for us this couple was tolerant of children, and the boys took to them. A few days after that Winston and Meg showed up, and the day Meg left Winston's girlfriend arrived. My parents left, then Winston and Giulia left, and we spent the last few days with the house to ourselves once more.

Being in the house alone is so strange. I suppose I am just so used to having it overrun with people, everyone buzzing about with their different schedules. It was calm and quiet, and we didn't have to worry as much about waking people up in the morning.

One more strange things was the weather. While folks in the US were sweltering in over 100 degree heat (East Coast!) France was cooler. It was windy and almost chilly. It rained all day three times. The driveway became muddy. The boys couldn't play outdoors. In all the years that we came there all summer, every summer (for about seven years) it didn't rain as much as it did the three weeks of our vacation. Even that time with the horse and the lighting

when we took shelter in the barn and even the frogs were hopping in to seek shelter.

Also, the wind drove me crazy. For two weeks it blew and blew and blew and it drove me crazy. It made it seem like trips to the beach were impossible, cooling the air and the water and blowing hats off heads and ruffling the pages of whatever book I had in my hand and was trying to read.

But it was still lovely. I find I sank into a rhythm of sleeping, waking, running, and eating. I didn't feel pressured to be on time for anything, except for the occasional trip to the store before lunch hour. And although I am glad to be back home and get back into a routine, especially after the traumatic time we had on our return trip, I already miss the warm sun and the slower pace of life.

Also, I went running on my street yesterday morning and it was so cold I could see my breath! my BREATH! In AUGUST!