Little House In The Big Woods- Chapter Four

Bugeat (pop. 900) is the next biggest town to ours and it boasts two grocery stores (one being a small food co-op), a post office, a pharmacy, boulangerie, a hardware store that doubles as a souvenir store and a butcher. This works okay for our day to day needs but occasionally we need to go in search of something bigger for when we need a new bathing suit for Vaughn or more importantly, more peanut butter. The area is peppered with these tiny, provincial towns, many even smaller than ours. Numerous times we've muttered, "What is this place?" and I start to worry that maybe we've wandered into the French version of Children of the Corn.

Sometimes I wonder if there are certain things that maybe just haven't made it here to the same degree or if they are actively being rejected for some reason. Like window screens. Maybe the French don't want screens. Maybe they enjoy their bedtime ritual of one person standing on the floor and one on the bed, passing a fly swatter back and forth to get that buzzing fly and smattering of mosquitoes while wondering in the back of their minds just how many Daddy Long Legs in a bedroom are too many?

Last night we had a massive thunderstorm and the window blew open. After trying in vain to get it to lock I decided to just leave it open and deal later with whatever arc of insects that was going to wash in. We've had thunderstorms and rain for the last few days. This doesn't phase me though since, being from Portland, I already feel I've gotten the three nice sunny days I'm allotted each summer and, unlike Portland, it actually does clear up during the day.

This is our final week here on the farm and I have to admit, my family is feeling a little bit of cabin fever. The hot air balloon puzzle he is obsessed with might be the only thing keeping Jacob from complete Shining madness (indeed, there is something sinister about the way he is always accusing me of "not doing my fair share" on the puzzle).

On Saturday we take off to head to Nyon on the shores of Lake Geneva in Switzerland, just 25 km outside the city of Geneva. Our host for three nights is a woman named Claudia and her three children, the youngest of which is 11 years old. We'll be there until September 6th when we go to Zurich to pick up my dad and his wife Martha.

Our plans have changed somewhat recently. We've decided against going to Greece and Turkey and instead are going to head from Italy to Croatia to Budapest to Prague and then make our way across Germany back in the direction of France to drop off the car before flying to Israel.

** With the exception of the picture of Vaughn with the sheep, all the other pictures in this post are from the little three-mile walk I take each day down the road. I'll miss this place.