Wildflowers in the Alpes-Maritimes - Les fleurs, ça ne se mangent pas!

I became interested in wildflowers of the Alpes-Maritimes, that wonderfully diverse region in Southeastern France that extends from the Mediterranean to the Alps, when a photographer friend showed me his close-ups of orchids, cistus and other flowers. Flowers? I’d had only heard of Roman ruins, topless beaches and the azure-blue of the sea. I knew nothing about the flora.

I already had the 35mm camera and lenses, and I bought a book, which became my bible—Fleurs du basin Méditerranéen by Fernand Nathan. I spent numerous hours at our house near Grasse and on nature trails of Sophia Antipolis, photographing wildflowers.

Back at the mas, we marked off our wildflower areas so we could see which flowers returned. The month of May was off limits to any lawnmower or bushwacker. The lawn looked a bit untidy, but we were waiting for that profusion of color.

We had been warned about grazing sheep, destroying photo ops. We didn’t know of any sheep in our area. And we hadn't seen our gardener since October. But early one morning our twice-a-year gardener arrived. Needless to say, he considered flowers superfluous, a luxury because they could not be eaten. --Les fleurs, ça ne se mangent pas! Before we could stop him, our gardener had mowed through our areas of wildflowers. Our flowers had disappeared under the whirling blade. . . . Gone were buttercup, orchids, poppies and gladiolas. Maybe the following year. . . .

For more information on wildflowers in the Alpes-Maritimes, visit here.

Cape Cod--Vacation with (almost) no schedule

Years ago advertisements for a Florida vacation said something like, "Leave your watch at home." I planned to do just that while in Cape Cod. I only had to plan for the arrival and departure of my flights. But when I arrived at Logan International Airport, the bus to the Cape was delayed due to construction and repairs on the Sagamore Bridge. Once I got to the Cape, I would leave the watch behind.

The next day, my son and I left for Martha's Vineyard. This time, our schedule was based on that of the Steamship Authority ferry, which left from Woods Hole.

And once on the island, our walks, sightseeing and coffee stops were dictated by the #13 bus, which ran between the dock at Vineyard Haven, Oaks Bluff and Edgartown. We wandered streets--Oaks Bluff, with its ornate, painted houses, and Edgartown with a more traditional or classic architecture. We were curious about the history. Who was Martha? Where were the vineyards? And why weren't there more cafes! But there was no time to find out. We had the 3:45 p.m. ferry to catch for the Cape. The only people who didn't seem to have a schedule were the shopkeepers.

Saturday--generally, a leisurely day for my son and his fiancee. But after breakfast at a corner cafe and a quick walking tour of Sandwich, settled in 1637, we had a meeting with a realtor to look at houses.

We visited Boston on Sunday. Given the traffic from the Cape back to Boston on Sunday, we had to leave by mid morning to get in sightseeing before my early evening flight. Ah the cafes in the Italian district. A latte at the Caffe Vittoria (ca. 1929)on Hanover Street in Boston.

Past the wharf, a quick peek into the opera house and King's Chapel burying ground. Our walk took us over many brick streets and sidewalks (NOTE--heels and historic cobbled streets do not mix). We needed some time on Newbury Street, where I hoped to do some shopping. But by now my quick strides had slowed to a hobble (what with all the blisters on my feet from wearing heels). Shopping, as well as the library, art museums,Freedom Trail and Cheers bar, would have to wait until the next trip. My son and his fiancee dropped me off at the airport for my flight. We hugged and waved goodbye. I raced to the check-in counter. My flight had been delayed, then rescheduled. Once en route, it was diverted due to storms. Eventually, I got back home at 2 in the morning. But even with the frantic schedule of a vacation, I had a wonderful trip to Cape Cod. But maybe I could learn about schedules from the shopkeepers on the Cape. . . .

Mother's Day! Did you remember?

But we always forgot as children. Dad likely forgot too because we made an early morning dash to Peoples Drugstore to pick out presents, inevitably Jean Naté or another beauty product with a name like Desert Flower.

But moms never forget. All year round, they are always available to fix things—cut knees, childhood through adulthood happiness or sadness—provide endless support, attend parent-teacher conferences and school plays. They get up in the middle of the night with a snack (hot chocolate or wine, depending) when we come in from a dance—just to hear about it. They help with our kids and pets. And they always keep our elementary school mother’s day cards posted on the frig. . . .

Whether your image of a mom is of subtle or obvious glamor, you want to find the perfect gift for this special person in your life. Leave it to the advertisers to help. . . . The U.S. ads focus on the mundane. The French ads promote gifts with sex appeal. But articles in U.S. and French papers provide a range of similar gifts—gardening tools, plants, perfume or dark chocolate. And what do moms usually say about a gift on Mother's Day? Probably most are like my mom, who just says she is happy "just having two wonderful daughters.” I think she really means it. But I bought a gift anyway.

If you missed Mother's Day in the States, you have a second chance (if you can claim ancestry or interest in France, where it is the last Sunday of May). I will end on this FB message from a friend to all mothers--“Thank you for your infinite grace and patience.” (posted by SVS)

Busy Weekend--commencement or derby?

Two major events. One weekend. University graduations across the country. The 138th Kentucky Derby! Sitting for hours on stadium seats or folding chairs as some academic dean reads through names and honors. Sipping mint juleps (which I am not sure I like but it sounds glam), watching horses and jockeys in silks, feeling that moment of elegance (training, investments, hours of primping and less than two minutes of racing). For some parents or students, four years or more of tuition (easily more than $100k). . . . or more than $1,200 for finish line seats or $446 for other seats on the secondary market, according to an NBC website. And then the regalia. For commencement, flimsy black gowns (one size fits all) for students. As for the faculty have thicker robes and mortarboards; others (often from well-established European institutions) have dress worthy of an ecclesiastic in the Middle Ages—tam, brioche-like hat, rich velvet cloaks. The derby--everyone is dressed to the nines. The hats are particularly impressive--roses, veils, bows--nothing seems too eccentric or sublime for a derby. While at commencement, families might complain about large hats blocking their views as they try to digitalize the graduation ceremony, at the derby, it's a given. Given the choice and if money were no object, readers, which would it be? NOTE--if you opt for the derby, Ebay has a nice selection of hats!