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It’s Derby Time in Kentucky!

It’s officially Derby season (or has been for more than a week now) in Louisville. Here are some pictures of people “keeping Louisville weird” at the Cherokee Triangle Art Fair last Sunday.

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Life in Images: Easter

{Notice the dog looking in at the food.}

Happy Easter!

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Life in Images: First real snow. (Where are those little spring birdies now?)

{7:30 a.m.}

Did I say there were little birdies chirping outside my window last week? This morning I woke to Winter’s second wind! As is often typical in Kentucky, it ain’t over till it’s over.

{Dad and Reve}

{School is not out.}

{The daffodils thought it was spring too. I rescued them when it started snowing last night.}

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Pur sang: Images of Thoroughbreds

{George}

I grew up on the back of a horse. There was a time when neighbors who spotted me on foot would ask if my horse was lame or sick. They expected me to be on a horse or beside a horse but never without a horse. It’s surprising to some of these neighbors and friends when I tell them my life in France doesn’t include much riding. I guess I’m not the type they’d expect to have grown out of it.

And I haven’t.

Each time I’m home I’m reminded of the thrill of galloping over cross-country fences and winding through the trees or splashing into the creek. Although I don’t ride daily, my love for horses remains. When I have the time and the means, one day I’ll gather the passion and will to ride and pack them up with me. I’ll take them wherever I am living at that time and plant them there. For now though, I’m content to find them safe where I left them a few years back: at my old Kentucky home.

{Rêve: “In the winter we gals let it all hang out.”}

{George, feeling good}

TRADUCTION A LA MELIE:

J’ai grandi sur le dos d’un cheval. A une époque, les gens qui me croisaient à pied me demandaient si mon cheval était blessé ou malade. Ils s’attendaient à me voir à cheval, ou à côté d’un cheval mais jamais sans cheval. Cela étonne certains de ces voisins et amis à qui je raconte que je ne monte pas beaucoup à cheval en France. Je pense qu’ils ne s’attendaient pas à ce que je puisse m’en passer.

Et je ne m’en passe pas.

A chaque retour à la maison je retrouve le frisson du galop par-dessus les clôtures, les slaloms dans les arbres ou les plongeons dans la crique. Même si je ne monte pas tous les jours, mon amour des chevaux persiste. Quand j’en aurai le temps et les moyens, un jour, je regrouperai ma passion et ma volonté de monter à cheval et je les embarquerai avec moi. Je les emmènerai où que je vive à ce moment-là et je les installerai là. Mais pour l’instant, je me contente de les retrouver sains et sauf à l’endroit où je les ai laissés il y a quelques années : dans ma vieille maison du Kentucky.

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My day Monday

Well, this little note (from thx thx thx) sure gives “a case of the Mondays” a new ring!  I never thought of it like this, but now I doubt I’ll ever think of Mondays in the same way.

After a great weekend spent with a friend from college, I’m ready for a promising new week.  The days are shorter, the air is cooler, and my time on the farm is now limited to the few last weeks of summer.

Then, back to France, where Monday turns into Lundi!

More soon…

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Filed under Gratitude, Home, Inspiration, Just for laughs, Kentucky, Unconventional Wisdom

Life in Images: Scenes from around the farm

{EmilyintheGlass at Homearama}{Old jump standards get a fresh coat + A pretty pink face}{Potato buds and a still-green tomato}{King of the Garden}{After the rain}{Humidity rules, but work continues} Summer in Kentucky is a sauna.
A scrapbook of Julys passed.
The humid smells of childhood, of vegetables, of cut flowers.
It’s walking the hose across the yard
And filling the troughs.
Spraying the horses to cool them off.
It’s tomatoes and mozzarella
And pilfering basil and cilantro from the neighbors.
Summer in Kentucky is heat: heavy, oppressive heat.
Swimming through the day, coming up for breath in the nearest air-conditioning.
A cold beer
Yes — Kentucky is a cold beer, or the necessity thereof.
It’s frozen yogurt and frozen fruit and quickly melting ice cubes.
It’s waking up early and going to bed late and napping in between.
Summer in Kentucky is conducive to weeds
But not to weeding.
To bare feet that burn on the sidewalk.
To waiting to walk — or run — after dark.
Summer in Kentucky is not refreshing: not in the morning or at night
And most certainly not at noon.
It’s not encouraging of public transportation, be it bike or bus:
Anything without air.
Summer in Kentucky is not easy like a Sunday morning.
At least not this year.

Summer in Kentucky is not for the faint of heart.

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Filed under Cool Characters, Home, Horses, Kentucky, Photography, Writing

A strange stillness

Out of the mist, a pretty face.

It’s been really hot lately.  I think my French friends would be shocked to know that the temperatures have been over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit (around 38 degrees Celsius) in Louisville.

With the humidity it feels hotter.

When it rains, it’s almost tropical.

But when the rain stops and I catch the regard of a pretty little Thoroughbred heading my way, her wet forelock hanging limp between her kind eyes, I escape for a moment from the heat and humidity and bask in the beauty of what both have left behind.

A strange stillness dwells
In the eye of the horse,
A composure that appears
To regard the world from
A measured distance….
It is a gaze from the depths
Of a dream…
— Hans-Heinrich Isenbart

TRADUCTION A LA MELIE:

Une étrange tranquillité

Sortant de la brume, une jolie tête.

Il a fait très chaud ces derniers temps. Je pense que mes amis Français seraient surpris d’apprendre que la température a dépassé les 100 degrés Fahrenheit (environ 38 degrés Celsius) à Louisville.

Avec l’humidité on a l’impression qu’il fait encore plus chaud.

Quand il pleut, c’est presque tropical.

Mais quand la pluie s’arrête et que je prête attention à un joli petit pur-sang venant vers moi, son toupet trempé retombant entre ses yeux tendres, je m’évade un moment de la chaleur et de l’humidité et je jouis de la beauté de ce que tous les deux ont laissé derrière.

Une étrange tranquillité repose
Dans l’œil du cheval,
Un calme qui semble
Observer le monde
A distance mesurée …
C’est un regard depuis les profondeurs
D’’un rêve …

–Hans Heinrich Isenbart

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