Thanksgiving

 

This was our Thanksgiving dinner.  Okay,  there was no turkey, nor stuffing, but we did have chicken with delicious fresh sweet potatoes to which I added sliced apples and pecans before baking.  I also made cranberry bread and a salad with fresh pears, a little cheese and nuts.  The other item on the table is a nice selection of fine chocolate.  Okay, so it's no pumpkin pie, but I happen to prefer chocolate to pumpkin pie.  We didn't even eat this meal on Thanksgiving Day, but then Steve was working in Germany on our Thanksgiving Day and we shared our meal together on Friday evening.

At this time we recognize that we have in abundance all things which really matter in life; family and friends to love and appreciate, faith in God and good health to enjoy life.

Who Knew?

 

For over two months I have enjoyed looking out my front window at the hearty ever-blooming Chrysanthemums in pots which I had placed in my window sill.  When the huge purple one began to look like it belonged to Morticia Adams, with brown flowers instead of purple, I couldn't stand to just throw it away and gave it to a friend to plant in her yard.  Since that time, the two smaller yellow pots have braved the cooler temperatures and oft-times brutal winds to continue to display cheering yellow flowers.  I must admit today, however, that they may not be up to the dusting of snow which we received yesterday and the night-time temperatures that are below freezing.  Still, I watch as they rock, buffeted by the chill wind, and yet look fairly healthy. 

I have not seen too many, if any, Chrysanthemums on window ledges.  Sometime in the past couple of weeks I read that one should never take Chrysanthemums to someone as a gift because they are associated with funerals and death.  Hmmm--I wonder how many people here have either chuckled at our cultural ignorance or thought that we had suffered a loss. 

Interesting--Chrysanthemums being associated with funerals and death when in reality they are the essence of longevity, hardiness and can be depended upon to rise back up out of the ground to flower again next year.  Maybe they should be thought of in terms of resurrection rather death.  I still will remember not to take them to someone as a hostess gift.

Heading in a Different Direction

The hills that we look out on from our front window are called the Jura.  We had never gone into the Jura nor seen what lay beyond--that is until last Saturday.  The deciduous trees had all lost their leaves, but there are plenty of pines.  Also, we left a semi-clouded over Geneva, with hazy skies and drove into bright sunshine and brilliant blue skies. Nice change.  Steve took this photo outside of the little village of Morez.  We only have to drive 15 minutes in the North-West direction from our home to cross into France.  We spent the day in France.  We thought we might head to Dijon, where I have never been, but as we traveled in that direction we became ensconced in heavy fog.  We changed plans and drove back in an Easterly direction, having picked out the town of Besancon on the map as a town to explore.  It turned out to be an excellent choice--the weather stayed clear and the areas we drove through as well as Besancon itself were very interesting.  I love little French villages!

 

 

As we approached Besacon the view is of the ancient Citadel and wall on the hill and of part of the river which flows all the way around the city.  (By the way, the "c" in Besancon is pronounced as an "s" which would show up on a French keyboard and a little comma under the c.)

 This shows the mosaic tiled roofs that are common to this area.  The old buildings even in the little villages often have this type of roof. 

We saw this type of turret on the corner of buildings often throughout the city.

 

 

 

Row houses along the river

Church on the square

Great Carousel.  It's quite old.

I've aged a bit since you last saw me.

Love to you all--

Moving Through Autumn

I have often heard the saying, "Till the cows come home" in reference to doing something for a long time--until the cows come home.  Here is the picture to go with the saying.  We were traveling along a road near Gruyere when a farmer got off his tractor which he had been driving down the road and placed two "cones" -- one on each side of the road to indicate a cow crossing.  He then proceeded into the field and urged the cows into a line to begin their walk "home".  Such a simple sight to view and yet for some reason it filled me with contentment to being able to take the time to enjoy watching cows return to their barn in the evening.

On the hill is the Gruyere Castle.  Just some beautiful scenery on our way back to Geneva.

As Autumn pushes onward, I am getting more anxious each day to get home to North Carolina.  I have discovered that I'm good for about two and a half months before I start counting the days until I come home.  I find that I'm less tolerant of the crowds of people,  the cigarette smoke being blown in my face, the dirty bus seats and the even dirtier streets.  Yep--it's definitely time for a break from here for a little while.  City life is fine in small doses.  We plan to get out of town next Saturday--we haven't decided where, but it'll probably end up in my next blog.

Love to you all--