We're having a party tonight

This doesn’t have so much specifically to do with Le Vignaud, but somehow I feel it’s appropriate. There have been so many struggles in the past year–the difficulty of Jason and I separating, his move to France and ongoing complications with the house, and my six month odyssey that, at first, orbited around him. It’s been a year now since that fateful trip to the desert. Jason is in Europe with a car and possibly a house. I’m back on Wilson Drive and preparing for my own Burning Man adventure. But through it all we’ve had redbeans.

There was my 22 birthday, when Jason made a big pot of redbeans and we fed 17 people, all sitting on the steps of my front porch and laughing. There was the time I was WWOOFing in France and cooked a pot of beans, partly to show my gratitude to the family who had taken me in but also to feel connected to my warm sunny home half a world away. There was the pot of beans I cooked at Izzy’s house in Prague: it was a celebration of friends and a recreation of our Louisiana lives. Both of those meals involved failed attempts at biscuits. Later in Bonnat, Jason and I cooked an especially large pot of beans, with bay leaves picked from the tree in the backyard. We shared it with our new friends on Gigi’s birthday, and the next day he brought the food to his friend Breton, another Louisiana girl who had been stuck in a Parisian hospital. Luckily, that time my biscuits came out right, and I was glad to be able to share a bit of home.

So now I’m in my new home, just two doors down from my old blue house where we all had so much fun. Everything is familiar, but nothing is exactly the same. I have several pounds of beans simmering on my stove, waiting for tonight when 15 or so of my friends will come and join me for a meal. It’s such a New Orleans tradition, not just the food, but the act of using a pot of food as a nucleus for relationships. Tonight I’ll be completely immersed in my company as we feast and sweat on the back patio, but for a moment this morning, as I dropped the laurier into my giant pot, I couldn’t be sure where I was.

I cooked up a mess of beans to celebrate the new president while WWOOFing

I said to the [cherry] tree,
Sister, speak to me of Beauty.
And the [cherry] tree blossomed.
–Nikos Kazantzakis

Cherry Blossoms, Early March

Since late March when the cherry trees around the village bust into an amazing display of white or pink blossoms, we have been waiting and watching for the payoff.

Well, the time has finally come and we’ve been stuffed with cherries, filled buckets, pie pans, and jam jars and there’s no end in sight.

The back yard with with cherry tree in full blossom

Alex and his Guitar

Ripe Cluster

The cherry harvest begins with an empty stomach perhaps. The tiny green nubs had ripened and darkened with the summer sun, and they were finally ready to be plucked from the branches that bore them to fulfill their higher destiny- or at least that which we deem them fit to pursue…

This year was an amazingly good year for cherries. They filled nearly every branch and hung heavy and juicy in clusters. It was such an amazing feeling being among them in the trees, with the birds chancing a taste, and the afternoon sun shining through the waxy leaves. The view from our trees looked out over the west, towards the setting sun over the river valley.

Cherries on the Tree

Darren’s family came out one afternoon and shared a wonderful picnic in the clover patch. After we’d finished our tea, we grabbed ladders and buckets and headed over to the orchard where the cherries were waiting. We picked a few large buckets, destined for cherry pies, confitures, and Jeneane’s freezer. It was amazing the amount of beautiful fruit that was at our disposal for so many wonderful things. The branches were full and heavy with ripe cherries and harvest required only reaching into the branches and plucking them by the handful. Buckets and stomachs were quickly filled (at least for the moment), while everyone dreamed of what sweet delicacies were planned for our spoils…

Later that night, I got to work on a very special project: The making of my very first Clafoutis.

Also, a few days later and trying to salvage what remained of the now over-ripe and bird eaten crop, I took my first try at some Confiture and Jelly Making.

Photo Gallery:

This project, along with many others is on hold indefinitely… Still, the memories and photos are there. For what it may be worth.

Dirty Darren

View from the Top

Towards the West

Alex

Alex

Great View

View from the Back Yard

Le Vignaud Jeans coming soon.

Is this work?

Katrina Style

As It Rests

Photo Gallery:

I was the only one brave enough to jump in that day… it had been five years since I last had the chance and I wasn’t waiting any longer.

Genuine "Limousin"

Alex and I ditch work one day in April… The day after Alex lay dying if I remember correctly. Who can stand roofing after a night with Paddy?

So instead, we took a walk to the lake and had a nice chat with the cows on the way. The lake was still frigid, but the first spring leaves were just starting to emerge from the surrounding trees. Just before sunset, the light is wonderful and the lake is calm.

Sunset at the Lake

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