I’m not sure at all about what to write anymore, because I don’t know exactly how I feel, and I don’t know what to say and what not to say.
This European way of life (well, his, in particular) forces me to live in the present moment. The future is unplanned, and the past is gone. But surely there is some urgent matter that needs my attention for the moment. At times, it feels like total chaos, but really, I guess it’s just life… every day life… for him.
Right now, everything is quiet here on the farm. The birds are singing; the weather has brightened up and warmed up, and I can hear the soft, sweet melody of Monsieur P.’s violin in the apartment next door, trailing off into the clear country air. A gentle breeze seems to be pushing the clouds away, and maybe the sun will shine after all.
Yesterday, the entire afternoon was filled with fire-fighting activities, which did not seem so aggravating at all. We moved easily from one task to the next, doing what needed to be done to save the day. And the weather was surprisingly cooperative, with warm temperatures and sun, which brought the Belgian countryside to life this miserable July. The small city of Ath was buzzing with activity and everyone had a smile and a bounce in his step. Old and young… people were milling about and lounging at charming cafes in Le Centre Ville. Flower gardens were blooming furiously, and there was no evidence of the bitter weather from the previous days.
The cobblestone streets are beautiful, but are hell on heels, so I am sticking with the sturdier models from my suitcase for now.
We stopped at a wonderful open market, where I chose some cherries and darling miniature strawberries. All of the food looked like it was plastic; it was all so perfect and fresh.
J’adore the lovely musical surround-sound of romantic French. C’est magnifique!
The sun doesn’t even begin to set here until around 10:00 p.m., which is unusual for me. Last night we went to check on the horses at the other pasture, and as we drove back, the night was coming gently, changing the clear sky from some bright shade of hydrangea blue to an intense periwinkle with sprinkles of deep lavander clouds. The typcially Belgian orange street lights began to shine on the winding roads, and the sheep grazing on the hillsides made a peaceful, pastoral scene. Lights of other villages came on in the background. The view was something out of a story book for me.
So now, we go… not to fight fires, but to do other things that must be done… undoubtedly, more will flare up throughout the week – I’m quite sure of that, so I guess I’d better keep my boots and water hose ready to go.