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Current ArticlesThis feed's current articles are shown below. Subscribe for updates to all the content available in this feed, or click through here to see the original article.  Our niece Juliette and her husband Stephan invited us to Switzerland, to the Hotel Cailler. Before meeting them, we spent the night in Gruyères.
Little did we know that the utterly enchanting town had a Christmas market going on. It was charming — such a delightful surprise!
Gruyères itself is steeped in history: a... Read the whole entry... »
 The plaster busts stare. They never say much, but they take everything in. From their shelves, they admire themselves—caught in the mirror’s reflection—while the Christmas tree twinkles behind them like they’re posing for a holiday portrait. The whole scene gives them a fresh bit of ego, just to make them feel important. If they... Read the whole entry... »
 As I was cleaning up in the kitchen, I could hear little sounds—an unusual kind of silence, the kind that happens when two small children are doing something they know they shouldn’t be doing. As I dried my hands on the dish towel, I peeked into the living room to see what was going on. The Two Pickles had discovered where I kept the... Read the whole entry... »
 Finding a French love letter is a rare feat. Understandably, who’s gonna let go of a love letter? A French legal document from the 1600s sure let those go- but a love letter? Recently, I came across a small bundle of 19th-century letters- folded, yellowed, and edged with delicate embossing, written by children to their grandparents, parents,... Read the whole entry... »
 Cezanne Paints
 2025-12-02 11:00 UTC by Corey
 Quiet, the crickets On the still branches The trees are casting rays And subtle shadows Quiet in the house Quiet on the hill These scents one gets a whiff of Are the smell of the season But here comes the man Cezanne Paints-Frances Gall’s lyrics translated “Where did the artist stand to paint this painting? Cézanne painted... Read the whole entry... »
 The woman at the boulangerie calls me, Madame. In France, I’ve watched the women in the market carry their years like velvet fabric—softened by time, more beautiful for having been used and loved and washed in the light. My hands look like older women’s now. Gabriel, my grandson, traced the veins on the back of my hand yesterday.... Read the whole entry... »
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