Return from Paris

We flew out of Paris on Saturday the 26th, after a week in France. We landed in North Carolina and, after a six hour lay-over, made it home to Arkansas at midnight. My moma and pop and two of my three boys were there to meet me. Oh, joyous homecoming! I expected to sleep till noon on Sunday (we had been up for 23 hours straight the day before), but was up and ready for church like always.

raspberries

Monday we had family dinner and I doled out the souvenirs I found for everyone and we looked at pictures. Tuesday I grocery shopped, cleaned, and made dinner. How lovely it is to get back into a routine after so long away. The mundane that you wished to escape is suddenly enjoyable (I'm pointing at you, laundry!).

crabapples

It's strange that in my seven days abroad the earth back home seems to have rotated more swiftly, like the people in fables who are trapped for a year in Fairyland, only to discover that seven human years have passed when they return.

I left here at the first blooms of the roses and arrived in a Paris of gentle late spring. It was not uncommon to wake to find the small tin thermometer outside the window reading 64 degrees. We wore sweaters over our dresses every day, only taking then off if we happened to come out of the tight warren of ancient buildings into the open sun of a park. Even then the direct rays were kind.

minionette strawberries

Upon coming home I was struck by the closed windows and sounds of the a/c instead of the crickets. Even exiting the plane at midnight my groggy brain registered a humidity that my skin had not felt for days. Then, after church on Sunday, I walked into the brash heat of summer and skin-pinching sunlight.

sour cherries

I left as the flowers had fallen from trees and bushes, leaving only fuzzy stamen and a slight swelling to show where fruit would emerge. I returned to hard green nuggets of crabapple, buttery yellow cherries, and nubby lumps of raspberries. The grapes are in tiny clusters of green beads, while the gooseberries are like miniature versions of their soon-to-be selves. My rhubarb is flowering and sprawling with it's weight of stalks, and the mint has escaped the steps and is making a brave foray into the yard beyond.

Steuben grape

The swallow on the porch had been patching with straw and daubing mud when I left. Now she is broody and will hardly take flight as you pass, a sure sign she is already on a clutch of eggs.

gooseberries

The honeysuckle is clouding the air with a scent that man can only attempt to replicate. On my kitchen table is a recipe I have been pondering on for months, a honeysuckle and lemon panna cotta. Two cups of honeysuckle blooms seems an impossibility in the winter, but I returned to leaping growth and bowers of blossoms that could consume a house.

The first flush of roses passed in my absence, but the blooms on now are full and deeply scented. Ready to be harvested, sprinkled with water, and rubbed with sugar to be turned into jars of stunningly pink rose petal syrup.

The wheels of the world have turned a full revolution and gone from tender expectation to the visible promise of fruition. While in Paris, I felt myself bloom and stretch. I can only hope that I will bear fruit as generously and beautifully as this leaping green world I call home.

So, patience, Dear Reader. I took 1016 photos while in Paris and have no estimate on how many Andy took. We are going to combine them this week and as soon as that happens I will begin to post about our week-long trip. No Parisian stone will be left un-turned! I intend to share it all with you, right down to every pastry I ate and what it was like. (Hey, that's the kind of knowledge I would want...) I am still coming down from the 6-8 pastries I ate every day in France and having withdrawals like a junkie ;).

Just a hint of what's to come...cruel, aren't I?

It was a beautiful trip, and I promise to share all the particulars with you. I waited three years for the chance to go, Dear Reader, wait just a few more days for me to show it all to you...