I recently read The Only Street in Paris, which is a memoir of life on one street. A whole book about one street!
Which got me thinking about the street in our former village of La Vineuse, where we lived for 13 years. (we moved to Beaune 2 years ago).
Such memories of that village road! Maybe not book-worthy, but for a tiny rural rue in "centre village" (our village had 20-ish houses, a church and a one-room schoolhouse), I certainly have some wonderful souvenirs, that lovely word for memories or remembrance in French. The road was a carrrefour, or crossroad, where 2 rural roads came together, and it was a delicious little slice of French life.
Let me set the stage for you: The village was high on the crest of a hill, with houses and gardens falling off to either side. In the center, across from our house and barn (above), was a sort of island with a phone booth and a cherry tree; and beyond that, the romanesque church. Two roads crossed there, And a third was a tiny impasse (a dead end lane) that split off in front of house and barn. Lunching on our galerie, we could see up to hill to the road and the heart of the village.
Here were some common sights on our road, all photos taken within a hundred yards of our house:
--Traffic. At 7 am and 7 pm, coinciding with the church bells, the two farmers in town passed by with their big tractors, one new and a bright green, the other a vintage red one. Other than that, mostly the cars of the locals occasionally passed by.
--Horseback riders, in groups of 4 or 5, out for a saunter.
--Pompiers, on national veterans holidays, proudly parading to honor the war dead.
--Cows. When they moved the cows from one field to another, they often drove them through town. I was once startled by a couple of them who nearly ran me down as I was coming out of my gate.
--Car rallies passed often. Beautiful vintage cars, one after the other, passing through town on a group Sunday drive.
Packs of neighbors, who pass each other on the crest of the hill on their walks, and cluster together like birds, for a good gossip.
--The floats that the villagers made annually for the charity drive.
--Hikers, hearty and sportive, and always swinging their Nordic walking poles.
--At least once a day, a UPS or Amazon truck, at a dead stop on the crest, the driver desperately seeking directions. There were no street names or numbers in the village, or in the surrounding hamlets.
--A mini transhumance: herds of sheep being moved on their annual journey up the hill.
--Weddings. Bridal parties would walk together from the mayor's office, where they signed the official papers, to the church for the ceremonly. Oh the fancy hats and frocks we saw!
I have lovely memories of the cherry tree just outside our gate,and my visiting grandchildren heading out several times a day to gorge themselves on fresh cherries.Then there was the goodbye party for the phone booth, when they hauled it away. With our neighbors, we set up a "café" on its former site on the island in the middle of the intersection, and drank wine until the moon rose. I will always remember fondly the worn path between our house and our beloved nextdoor neighbors' house, which I usually walked at least a couple of times a day.
Unlike the street in the Paris book, it wasn't a busy road packed with shopkeepers and apartments and lots of action. But it was a road of souvenirs just the same, and that road will travel with me always.
In the COMMENTS: Susan, those are some spoiled chickens! Ian, that lasagne idea, which I want to try, is worthy of starting from scratch. Anne, I would be happy to be in the company of any good Cajun cook. Lee, I love the pickle juice idea. Colleen, wishing you bonne santé. Julie, we are all crossing our fingers that you can get back to France, it's been too long. Natalia, do look for that cookbook--I think the Germans make wonderful salads. And do check out Martin's Austrian recipe. By the way, we were in a very off-the-beaten path rural French bistro last week, and ran right into our loyal reader and frequent commenter Martin, and his wife Helen, from England. Comme le monde est petit! It was a great pleasure to see you both.
Favorite READS: I have an interesting read for you this week!! Gervais Hagerty, who grew up in Charleston, has written a novel about the city, In Polite Company. It's an inside look at the blueblooded society that hangs out at the yacht club and dances at the Cotillion balls--and she is both loving and critical at the same time, of this privileged group. It's a great and fun read, if you have any connection to this beautiful historic city, or would like to. Or if you're just looking for a good book!
