Bonjour,
I hope you and yours are nicely.
I’m sending you the publication from the south of France, I’m exploring Grasse, the fragrance capital, tomorrow I’m off to the Cote d’Azur – looking for out hidden gems and picturesque villages, and subsequent week I’ll head to Vaucluse in Provence to search out out what’s new in Avignon, the town of the Popes, go to vineyards and luxuriate in up the fabulous colors of Fall. Include me by way of Instagram the place I’ll publish photographs and movies as I am going.
One way or the other, it’s Autumn in France already. I’m undecided how that occurred, this yr appears to have whizzed by. The harvest has nearly completed, buzzards hover over the fields in search of quick meals on the bottom, and spiders search hotter lodging. At the very least that’s what my neighbour Jean-Claude says. I’m not a spider fan, however I attempt to dwell and let dwell. We’ve had a spider dwelling on our terrace for months and months, he’s bought so large we name him George. We don’t usually get too many spiders in the home as a result of the cats are slightly keen on them. However final week Jean-Claude and his spouse Bernadette got here for drinks, and as we sat within the kitchen, Bernadette stated, “He’s an enormous ‘un” and all of us seemed on the most huge spider sitting on the dresser with the cups and saucers.
“You’ll have good luck tomorrow” stated Bernadette, and Jean-Claude nodded in settlement. “Araignée du matin, chagrin; araignée du midi, souci; araignée du soir, espoir.”
(Spider within the morning, grief; spider at midday, fear; spider at evening, hope).
French persons are very superstitious – no less than the place I dwell they’re.
“I believe it is likely to be George” stated my husband Mark.
Jean-Claude checked out us together with his eyes narrowed.
“You title your chickens, geese and geese, you title the stray cats, the hedgehogs, and now you title the spiders and invite them in the home?”
“Anyway, bon probability (good luck)” stated Bernadette and all of us clinked our glasses collectively and stared into one another’s eyes – one other French superstition, in case you don’t stare, you would get seven years of unhealthy luck.
After we turned again, George had disappeared. Jean-Claude who had been sitting closest, leaped up and began slapping his legs and dancing like a puppet on a string, flinging his arms wildly and slapping his head. “He jumped on me, I’m positive of it” he yelled.
We watched in astonishment as his wild actions induced him to hit his elbow on the sting of the desk, hop about and bang his leg on a chair.
“George is up there, look” stated Mark pointing to the shy creature who was now lurking in a nook of the ceiling.
Jean-Claude sat down with a bashful look on his face, nursing his elbow and knee, as Mark picked the spider up gently and took him outdoors.
A lot for good luck!
Wishing you a cheerful autumn,
Bisous from France,
Janine
Editor
PS Prime picture: Trompe l’oeil in Montpellier
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