So I mowed the lawn a few minutes ago. No major accomplishment, because our yard is tiny by American standards. The thing is, the mower is electric. As in, requires a cord.
The first time I saw a French person plug in a lawnmower my eyes probably popped out of my head. I immediately imagined a catastrophe, because hell, YOU MIGHT MOW OVER THE DAMN CORD!
Now that we are homeowners we have a mower, too. And it's electric, and we have a very long cord for it.
You get used to doing the Lawnmower Cord Waltz. Sometimes in the beginning you find yourself doing strange pirouettes while you push, and you hope the neighbors didn't notice you. Then you remember you're in France, and your garden is walled and hedged so that no one, NO ONE can look into your private sanctuary. So you relax and do another pirouette. Then you smile because you realize you can mow topless if you want.
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Late yesterday afternoon we all went to Treasure Beach. The tide was way out, and as we walked down the cobblestone sea wall ramp, we saw "Ma chérie, je t'aime" etched on the sand below. It made me smile.
As you descend the ramp, to your right is the sharply sloped sea wall. No railing. I keep to the left because I don't feel like ending up on the beach before it's time. There's another sheer wall on the left, this time going up, which provides a barrier for the bike/walking path above.
After C. and I read the love message in the sand, we kept walking down the ramp. T. stayed behind with J., who was helping him decipher the letters in the message. When T. was done, and saw us three-quarters of the way down the ramp, he started running. I couldn't help it -- I had visions of him ending up like George Bush. But T. ran up the wall on the left, arced over and down onto the ramp, then down the sea wall to the beach. All in less than 10 seconds, and without a scrape, scratch, or bruise.
Remember being fearless when you were a kid?
I found a piece of pale purple glass. When I showed it to C., she blurted out "Oh, man!" just like Swiper on Dora the Explorer. Boy, was she jealous. Two seconds later, she shouted in triumph and picked up a prettier piece of glass in the same shade of purple. If she hadn't been standing in front of me, I would have found it.
I was happy that C. claimed it. I had no reason to complain, anyway. I'd already collected a large handful of lovely pieces.
As we walked back to the car, our calf muscles were burning. I think we must have walked at least 2 kilometers. It's hard to estimate. We were on the beach for about an hour, though, and we walked quite slowly.
The tide had come in enough to erase "Ma chérie, je t'aime." Gone from sight, but (I hope) not from the memory of the lover for whom it was destined.
I know I'll remember that sweet missive every time I go to Treasure Beach.
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