Is this the French version of the flaming bag of dog shit on the front porch, or a really strange way to welcome me in to the commune?
I have to admit, there have been a few moments in the last five months when I have finally felt like I was starting to make some headway in the community: Cider left on the windowsill; The first time the old man in the yellow Renault waved to me after so many times driving by without turning his head; The time the lady next door loaned me her fourche á bêcher after watching me struggle in the garden all day; Getting compliments from neighbors I had never met about how happy they were about all the work finally being done on the house and how great it looks… small things, but they mean so much to me. (more…)
