I’m back

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Who would have thought.  The goddam ‘Kat’ came back.

It’s been a bloody long while, so I thought I might re-introduce myself.

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I am Kat and I live in a region in Southern France called the ‘Minervois’.  I’ve been here for nearly 20 years, yet still feel like the ‘foreign’ Australian marvelling at the exotic sights, sounds, smells and tastes of this part of Europe. Which is just as well, because with family and friends so damn far away, there’d better be something in it to keep me here!!  The exoticism… and the Vigneron.  He’s called Benjamin and he’s French.  He’s the reason why I am here and the biggest reason why I stay here.  Together we have a child, a lovely 13-year-old called Lilas (which in French means ‘lilac’).

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Why did I start a blog?  To keep me sane!  Living in a foreign world with foreign ways and customs can be so exciting, so frustrating. And so wonderful. I wanted to record it all down and the more I shared, the more I realised I loved living here and noting down my days and collecting images of it all was a fun way to keep the diary going that I never wrote.

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La Liviniere, Minervois, France

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jardiniere cooking

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Then it all came to a screeching halt.  Why it came to a screeching halt was not just one, but a few major events that took my mind off me, then back to me… events that came crashing, unwelcomed, into my family’s life.

But I’m still here!  And in this time I’ve never stopped watching and observing – even if at one point, watching like a stray cat after a fight with only the one eye open.

 

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No of course this isn’t me, it’s Ryan Gosling.. giving you an idea of me as the stray cat after the fight
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…this is me, x-ray version

It’s been a way of distracting myself, to watch and admire the beauty and ‘Frenchness’ around me and snap images to hold it all for longer.  I didn’t continue with my diary/ blog, but I became obsessed (call it OCD) with recording visually the places and people around me and posting on Instagram (they are to be found here).   It’s the same kind of behaviour, you could say, as when I first arrived in France; in not being able to communicate with French people, I was forced to step back and observe.  It was forever tiring and challenging, but in watching and listening, I was taking in the extras that surrounded conversations.  Now, 20 years later, I understand much more of the conversations around me, but my eye has sharpened and I love the extras that surround everything.  Recording all of it has been my way of healing.

first collage 2019

So here you find me many years later, back clunking around on the keyboard, sharing scenes and recipes and wines from the Minervois.

Thanks for your visit!

Kat xoxo

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the locals

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La Force

If you could register* all the events in life – the good, the bad, the memorable and the ones you are reluctant to remember…  You cherish them, are thankful for them, ignore them, fear them.  They make you what you are and hopefully, influence you to carry yourself forward, strong and determined to keep looking around the next corner.

“Life’s not a straight line,” I still hear Mamy (my French grandmother) saying to me, many years ago when I’d had my first taste of mortality, at a time I would prefer to forget.  I was sitting there at rock-bottom, listening to the words of this discreet and loving 87 year-old woman as she reeled off dark events in her life (nursing my baby for me, far physically stronger than me – my baby the beautiful being in this heavy time).  She spoke with dignity and humility. I’d had no idea of what she’d been through in her life – this petite, elegant woman who I already loved for how she observed people around her (I was doing a hell of a lot of that myself, not understanding or speaking the language of my new home), her conspiratorial grin and her willingness to accept me into the foreign family I’d suddenly landed myself in.  I looked upon her with new eyes.  She told me with certainty I would get through this time.  Mamy’s strength and empathy empowered me.  I thought, if she got through all of that, I can.

Many events have followed this conversation – and amidst the beautiful, there’s bloody well been a steady drum roll of tough ones for our family in the last few years.  But I understand the thread that runs through all of them, the good the bad, that collects me in its force and nurtures me.  It’s love. I sound bloody kitsch.  I don’t want to imply ‘lurve’, the cliched Hallmark cards or tits and arse ideas of lurve. I mean the big love. Love for and from the people in this life with me.  It empowers me, making me cherish today and determined to see tomorrow.

*I’ve been OCD-recording visual images on my Instagram feed, vigneronswife

 

 

 

 

 

 

not Zzzzing, Bzzzing

buzzing

I feel like I’ve emerged from a big sleep.

But I haven’t been sleeping.

I haven’t been nodding off, I’ve been just temporarily out of action.

My mind though, has been in overdrive and whirring and whirring.  It’s been having a huge time, chock full of stuff – crap, weird stuff, joy, confusion, peace, weird stuff – buzzing like the beautiful bumblebees around me in the garden right now.

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But as Spring gets into its step, I am starting too as well.  I can get up, get out, bloody well brushing off the dirt from the last scrape.  The mind is buzzing and ready to clear out the crap.

image from 'Old Tom's Holiday', by Leigh Hobbs,  ABC Books, 2002
felt something like this…

Just one of those little chunks of life that reminds you (again) that it’s good to have life (again).

Please don’t chuck.  I’m sorry for the harp music, the chubby little cherubs and the waffle – sounds like I’ve lost it (again), but I mean it.

And stuff it, they’re flying right above me now with the bumblebees.