Travels with Diane, Etc.

Where to start? Where to start?
I guess at the beginning. Good flights. Too much food. and great company.

Wonderful friends/travelling companions

Us

Then: Paris.
Did these inveterate travellers pause? Not for an instant, though we had been conscious for nearly 24 hours. Taxi to our Air B&B, settling in, and back on the street. (In a totally non-prostitute sense...)
Because we were in PARIS! It was a beautiful day (The only one while we were there, as fate would have it) and where else would one go on a beautiful day in Paris? La Tour d'Eiffel!
See how French I am?!

The sheer immensity. Even majesty!
The crowds.
The heights.
Okay, I'm not so good with the heights. But when in Paris . . .

Then because they obviously didn't know we were coming and had scheduled a concert that we weren't invited to, the outside of the Beautiful Paris Opera.
Sigh.

The next day, The Louvre.
Where we spent the requisite two weeks--less one week, six days and 20 hours.
Yes we did the Louvre in only four hours. My advice? Take longer . . .

Venus says 'Hi!"

You know, I thought it would be bigger

Baby hands!!!

Okay, this is definitely NOT what I see when I look up at my ceilings . . .

From there, Notre Dame Cathedral.
In a word? Magnificent.

All I could think was: Who washes THAT window?

The next day, The Catacombes! Dun-dun-duuuuun! After a looooong three hour wait (a word of advice--buy your admission tickets in a group. Online.) in cold wind, we were nearly ready to just take up residence with the other dead bodies.

The nearly-dead.

The truly dead.

Then we warmed up by doing the Champs-Elysees from the Arc de Triomphe to the obelisk (with its attendant 'French Eye' and who thought this was a good idea?) Couple of pictures of Eglise de Madeleine, then groceries, then back to the apartment.

See what I mean?

Now THAT'S a church!

Picked up our car, stopped off at Versailles and the new Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saint temple (Ummm wow. And wow.) Then back to the apartment for our last night in Paris.

Dozens of gi-normous rooms. A hundred galleries. His own church. But no bowling alley.

Okay, there were several pools, so the absence of a bowling alley is forgiven.

Missed the open house by days. Days! *sob*

Off on our roadtrip. And a stop at Euro-Disney.
Did I feel guilty for being there without a single one of my grandkids?
Nope.

This is me: Squeeeeeeeeee!

If you stand just right, the lamps inside look like eyes.
True story.

My hero!

First night, Chateau Bellfontaine in Bayeux. A genuine old chateau. And we stayed in it!
Can anyone say: Yow?

Then the Bayeux tapestry. Which really has to be seen to be believed.
Now that would cover one huge wall! Or all of the seven dwarves beds at once. Or . . . well, you really have to see it . . .

Then out to Juno for a lot of tears and some pictures of the Normandy Beach Canadian graveyard.
Then on to a couple of museums . . .

Gorgeous. Peaceful. Everything a cemetery should be.

Then some really big guns . . .

Smile!

On to Mont St. Michel, rising like a man-made mountain out of the sea.

Scenes inside . . .

. . . And out.

And in and out . . .

Stairways great . . .

. . . And small.

Then to Tour and the chateaus: Villandry

Usse (Sleeping Beauty)

And Azay-le-Rideau. Again on the water. I wonder what their basement looks like . . .

Lascaux. This time to see the cave drawings. I loved this one. Well, I love them all, but for some reason, this one especially. I guess because I never learned to draw.
Because the cave itself is off limits (pollution) to human interlopers, it has been painstakingly recreated. I couldn't see the difference. Can you see the difference?

Stopped for a photo-op at Carcassonne. Sooo much more impressive than my picture shows.

Then on to Avignon.

Something we want to re-create in our home town. Doable. Right?

Palais des Papes

The famous Avignon half-a-bridge.

View from the famous bridge.
Everybody! "Sur la pont d'Avignon . . ."

A gate latch. I don't know about you, but my gate latches don't look anything like this...

And I'll pick it up there on Friday.
See you then!

Parent Pioneers

Every month, Karen urges her fellow bloggers to participate in a writing challenge, based on a theme. The rules are simple. 
1. Poetry. 2. Write it.
The results are both beautiful and diverse.
This month's theme is RENEW.
For me, the word always brings back thoughts of the ranch. In the spring.
So, this month, I'm going to use a poem written, not by me, but by my mother.
Discovered by me in one of her journals only a couple of years ago, over a decade after her death.
I know this is stretching Karen's rules, but I do hope she'll forgive me . . .

Pioneer Stock

Fresh, clear air from East to West

And room to come and go,

To watch the prairie grasses wave,

And feel the cool winds blow.

To hear the Whisper through the trees,

And watch the morning light,

The little prairie creatures stir,

The ducks and geese take flight.

To see the lazy shadows play

Across the hills at dawn,

And watch the golden sun rays touch

A mother and her fawn.

To look out o’er the rolling hills,

As far as the eye can see.

And not a thing to mar the view,

Not road, nor fence, nor tree.

And far across the plains we see

At the edge of the prairie.

A ridge of snow-capped mountains rise

In Splendid majesty.

When winter sheds his frosty coat,

And north winds cease to blow,

We see the fragile prairie flowers

Peek through the melting snow.

When all the lights of the Milky Way

Play eternal melodies,

A million winking stars above

Join the Heavenly Symphony.

And, stealing ‘cross the rolling land,

A whispering, gentle breeze,

A haunting, trembling Rhapsody,

Stirs leaves in all the trees.

When the moon begins to float,

Across the balmy night,

Caressing all the troubled world,

With it’s glorious, heavenly light.

We see the prairie antelope

Crest the hill at night,

A silhouette against the sky,

As he pauses in his flight.

As the frogs croak out a lullaby,

And all the Prairie sleeps,

A purple Shadow treads the Trail

Where the Wiley Coyote creeps.

The tattoo of the horses’ feet,

As the stage coach rolls along,

The sweat and grime and clouds of dust,

The crack of the whip at dawn.

And bounding o’er a craggy ridge,

The mocking laugh of Raiders,

We hear the loaded wagons roll,

With cursing Whiskey traders.

When a fevered child cries out,

There is no way to go,

To drive the faithful horses through

The shocking drifts of snow.

Sit anxiously throughout the night,

Clutched ln fear and dread.

No way to call a Doctor, or

Take the infant in the sled.

To rise with the sun and milk the cow,

And tend the hungry teams,

To pause a bit and watch the flocks

Fly on to other streams.

To eat a slice of thick, dark bread,

Rich butter and some jam,

Bowls of steaming porridge, and,

A slice of home-cured ham.

Hitch the team up to the plow,

And with the help of God,

Glean a frugal living from

The brown unwilling Sod.

Through Silver Willow, Sage, and, Brush,

We hear the prairie call,

The pioneers of this land are there,

Their silent footsteps fall.

We share so much with those who’ve passed

Their hope, their faith, their tears,

The courage to rise again and again,

Our parent pioneers.

See what the others have done with the theme . . .

Karen of Baking In A Tornado: Renew

Dawn of Spatulas On Parade: Renew

Sarah of Not That Sarah Michelle: Rebirth

Poetry Monday: He Did

I'm home!

With real WiFi and my  own bed!

Tomorrow, I will be taking you along on my once-in-a-lifetime trip through France and Switzerland.

But today?

Today is for poetry because:

Monday is an awkward day,

It means the weekend's done away.

Faced with a workweek, shiny new,

We all need help to not feel blue.

Okay, well, it might take me a while to get back into the groove! :)

For today: When the daughter of my Dad's friend brought her future husband to meet her family, this is what her Dad told her/them.

True story.

The brave young man married the girl anyway. 

I just thought it would sound fun as a poem . . .

Her family had all been awaiting this call.

When at last they could meet her intended.

Unsure if a wedding ball'd ever befall

Or if spinster-hood ever portended.

But a young man, she'd met who was perfect, she'd bet,

In whose honour and love she felt sure.

So homeward, she'd set, their opinion to get,

And to tell her her choice would endure.

Her father shook hands with her handsome young man

And questioned him closely a while.

They talked of his clan, and he asked him his plans,

Then he turned to his girl, with a smile.

“From all that I hear, you have nothing to fear.

But if his standards aren't mine and your mother's

Don't worry, my dear,” he said to her, clear.

“He'll be buried out back with the others!”

Ahhh. Monday.

See what my co-conspirators have come up with this fine day!

Delores waxes beautifully lyrical at Mumblings

Jenny talks about her beautiful--but unpredictable--green-eyed fur baby at The Procrastinating Donkey

Modern Medicine

Monday Poetry

Yesterday would have been Daddy's 92nd. Happy birthday, Daddy!

To celebrate, another of his favourite stories!

"I insist!" she told the doctor

In her firmest, loudest voice.

When out the door, he would have sent her,

Because that was his choice.

"I'm not leaving without answers!"

Her voice was now a shout.

"Is it measles, mumps or hiccups?! 

I'm prepared to have this out!"

The doctor sighed and shrugged, "You know

There's something I can try.

We know the what and where and who,

Well now let's find the 'why'."

So he found a room and parked her

Tucked up snugly in her bed,

Tried, some sense, to whisper, and

Relieve her of her dread.

Then upon her firm insistence,

And with no more ado,

He left, but said he'd send someone

To give that second view.

All at once, her doorway opened,

And a cat stepped in the room.

He stopped her there in mid-mope, as,

He circled in the gloom.

Three times around, he loped, the while

He watched her carefully,

Then he turned and with a feline smile,

Meowed to be set free.

A moment more, the door, again,

Swung open. Without guile,

A happy Mr. Dog bounced in,

Who sat and stared a while.

When the visits of her august guests

Had finished, back he came--

Her doctor with some more intel.

He called her by her name:

"Well, the catscan's perfect, Ma'am," he said,

"I couldn't be more calm.

And the Lab work's just as positive

So it's time for moving on!"

So remember when its 'doctor time'.

And you ask for more info.

Your doctor looks to many views

To make his knowledge grow.

Monday is just better when it starts with poetry!

Zip over to Delores at Mumblings and Jenny at The Procrastinating Donkey and see what their day is like!

Still traveling. In Switzerland. One of the biggies off my bucket list!

Loving this!