Growing up on a farm my mother had chickens— but we never treated them as pets. They were simply part of farm life.

Gabriel and Olivia, however, are in love with their chickens. They sing to them, hold them, talk to them, and even let them eat right out of their hands. Throughout the day they go to the chicken pen and hang out with them.

As this week they are on vacation they asked me to check in on the chickens. Everything is automated—an electric door, automatic feeder, and water system—so all I had to do was make sure the chickens were okay.

The first time I opened the gate and stepped inside, they came running toward me, making the sweetest little sounds, almost like they were greeting me. Like cats, they circled my feet and gently pecked at my shoes. It made me realize how loved they must feel—so much so that they weren’t afraid of me at all.

Olivia had shown me how to pick one up, but instead I bent down and softly stroked them. To my surprise, they let me. I couldn’t help but laugh.

As I walked around their pen, they followed me everywhere. When I went to the food bowl—even though it was already full—they gathered around. When I moved to the water, they came along. Around the tree, across the pen—they stayed right with me the entire time.

Olivia says they “talk,” and honestly, I believe her. It felt like they were saying, “Hi, how are you? We miss you. Will you pick us up?”

There’s a new term people use—“henopause.” I may be well past that 40-year-old stage, but I have to admit… I completely understand it now.

And when I finally walked back to the gate to leave, they stood there, watching me go. I swear they looked sad to see me leave. It was absolutely adorable.

                

Comments

• I must admit I got goosebumps reading your post Corey. My fear ... by Leonie

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Little by little, piece by piece, one unusual thing after another—I wade slowly through the brocante, peering into every small box and across each tabletop like a scavenger hunter. I try to stay focused, resisting the call of the larger, more obvious beauties.

Instead, I search for the small things—the ones that require a closer look, a bit more patience.

I’ve been loving it lately. Recently, someone asked me to send them a box of small treasures. How could I possibly resist?

With my house nearly overflowing, (okay stuffed) I’m thankful I have clients who want me to send them French brocante stuff- big or small. It gives my passion an avenue.

Plus, I learned so much about French history and culture by going to the brocantes in France. Lessons that are passed down through objects and craft.

A Catholic WWI solider’s prayer token to hold in their pocket.

Here’s a glimpse of what I found:

• A souvenir of Paris with tiny pictures tucked inside
• A face powder box with its original label
• An inkwell and calligraphy pen holder
• A baby rattle.
• A game counter in bakelite and silver
• Pipe ancienne Gambier JACOB
• À a vice president pin handmade
• Prayer token
• A châtelaine’s louis d’Ore coin purse
• Religious document sceau

                

Comments

• Now that I'm in a minimalist stage, all I can do is look and ... by Ann of Avondale
• OH! I want one of each of these little treasures. Such a fun ... by Judy Wilcox
• In reply to Leonie. 😞 by Corey
• I am so envious of your trips to brocantes. We have nothing ... by Leonie
• Love that little book with the pictures of Paris! by Diogenes
• What a lovely idea and what treasures! by Bev S.

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Years ago, I began creating my own cabinet of curiosities—one centered on everyday little sweet things. I imagined that by the time I might have grandchildren, many of these ordinary objects would be unfamiliar to them. I imagine the stories I could weave for them.

A cabinet of curiosities traditionally holds objects like skulls, bones, taxidermy, feathers, furs, and various vials of scientific specimens.

A friend gifted me a cabinet, which I felt incredibly fortunate to receive. It is filled with small, seemingly insignificant pieces of a life long ago. I rarely open it, and I have never dusted it. It simply rests there, holding someone’s collection of memories.

I did open it once with Gabriel. He was about four years old at the time. We sat together, carefully looking at each item. After a while, he said, “Maybe we should let Olivia look at it too.” I smiled and replied, “Yes, but she’s still so little—she might throw things around.” He thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement: “Yes… maybe we better not.”

After that day, I started a cabinet of curiosities just for Gabriel. For his, I’ve gathered small treasures he loves: tiny metal animals, bits of feathers, shark teeth, a starfish, and even a bit of snake skin. He adores it.

Olivia, too, interests are a little different. She prefers big things that wouldn’t fit into a tiny cabinet. I believe a closet filled with twirly, glittery dresses.

                

Comments

• Oh, this is a wonderful inspiration! by Jeanne A
• In reply to Marilyn Miller. Thank you. Most of the things are ... by Corey
• Please adopt me!!?!?! For my cabinet I would like the armless ... by Ali
• What wonderful treasures in your cabinet of curiosities. What ... by Marilyn Miller
• Oh how I love this! ❤️ by Darlene Weathers-Gast

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The bread stamp I discovered yesterday came from the Alps… Kathie got it right.

Before homes had its own oven, bread in rural France was baked in a shared communal oven—the four communal,- the four banal. Families would prepare their dough at home, then carry it to communal oven to be baked with their neighbors’ loaves.

With many loaves going in at once, each household marked its bread dough with quick knife cuts—crosses, slashes, or initials—while others pressed symbols into the surface with small stamps. 

Once baked, families could recognize their own bread. The scoring seen on traditional loaves today has its roots in this very practical

The French communal oven —was an obligation. Under the feudal system, local lords held the right (known as banalités) to require villagers to use their oven, mill, or wine press for a fee. Baking at home was restricted, partly to maintain this source of income and authority, and partly for practical reasons like fire safety since the homes were built of wood and very close together. 

Despite the bread making rules, the oven became a social heart of the village. Baking days brought people together—sharing the rhythms of daily life (and gossip).

This communal ovens lasted for centuries, (there is a centuries old oven unused in our neighbor’s garage) until the French Revolution abolished lordly privileges. The communal oven faded from necessity into memory.

Now when at the boulangerie when you see a rustic loaf with a distinctive pattern, you’re glimpsing a small echo of village life.

Photos from Google Search, new bread stamps on Etsy.

                

Comments

• In reply to Marilyn Miller. It might be a little stale😉😉 by Corey
• In reply to Laura Gabriel. Especially on a cold day! I will ... by Corey
• I didn't know what it was, but what a clever tool. How I ... by Marilyn Miller
• Corey – I did know what it was!!! I feel like I've won the ... by Laura Gabriel
• In reply to Kathie B.. ❤️ by Corey
• So interesting! I had no idea there were communal ovens at one ... by Diogenes

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Do you know what this little thing is?
I am not often stomped. But, today I was.

I had no idea, but I overheard a woman explaining what it was to another person- well I’ll be darn.

I had to take a photo, to ask you,

“Do you know where this is?”

Can you take a guess? Hint see the X?

                

Comments

• In reply to JOELLE FAGES. Hmm this sounds pretty convincing. by Diogenes
• Is it a stamp for making communion wafers? The “X” made me ... by Diogenes
• A comb for a long haired sheep dog. by franki
• Bonjour Corey Serait-ce pour carder la laine avant le filage ... by Jeanne Renée
• C 'est une brosse manuelle pour éliminer les grosses ... by JOELLE FAGES
• I’m going with a tool for carding wool, or felting. ... by Susie

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From

Calm

Yeah, that is Yann trimming the ivy while standing on the windowsill from the second floor.

And, the neighbor decided to take out the refrigerator from the second floor- using a rope that only was tied around the middle. I was waiting for the crash sound.

So today everything was calm on the inside, but the outside felt like an accident would happen any minute.

                

Comments

• Oh my I love all of your postings by jeanne
• Happy no catastrophe happened. by Marilyn Miller
• In reply to Lil. Lol not funny but you know! by Corey
• In reply to Bev S.. Oh no! Cautious is the true word. And ... by Corey
• Oh my. Hard to be calm when people are tempting fate. My ... by Lil
• I have been accused of catastrophic thinking…. by Bev S.

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