A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS
March 10 2013Spring is indeed in the air; birds and bees and butterflies winging their way to procreation, some of them busying themselves in the blossoming almond tree outside our bedroom window, the newborn petals as close to white as pink can get.
We’ve just returned from a walk to our lavender field, a stroll really, pausing to look over a stone wall or garden gate…
…marveling at how we managed to land here, on this piece of the planet at this time of our lives which, if one were to measure metaphorically would put me in the late autumn of mine, while Joel has wended his way into winter having, this past Wednesday, celebrated his 75th birthday. And what a celebration it was.A day of rain showers and bursts of sun, my boy bursting with vigor. The day progressing as if through a ticker tape parade, festooning the victor with cards and calls, emails, messages and Skype visits from his children, not to mention Facebook greetings from all over the world.
In the middle of the day, like a long season unto itself, we lunched here at the kitchen table with dear friends and for nearly 5 hours ate and talked and danced and laughed and ate some more:
BIRTHDAY LUNCH MENU1st Course: smoked salmon on toasted brioche topped with a swipe of basil tapenade accompanied by artichokes roasted in our fireplace the hearts having bathed in garlic and olive oil overnight, plus a variety of olives and the first of 3 baguettes.2nd Course: A hearty bowl of lentil vegetable soup (recipe upon request) and the second baguette.3rd Course: A salad of local mixed greens with sliced kohlrabi and apple, simply dressed with olive oil, lemon and sea salt.4th Course: Somewhat refreshed we headed on to abate pears and 3 mighty fine cheeses: Roquefort, Brebis, and a creamy goat…and baguette #3.Just when we needed a serious breather Joel’s son Skypes and his son plays Grandpa an exquisite piano piece he’s just learned, its somber tones and thoughtful phrasing bringing silence and joy to the table.And so it is that we make our way to the couches and sit fireside for the...5th Course: Tarte Tatin with a dollop of salted caramel ice-cream; for the brave, praline almonds dusted with cocoa powder made for a last nibble before Drano was imbibed in the form of espresso.As I looked around at the circle of love and friendship I felt as though we had all set sail on the vessel of Joel’s birthday and it seemed to me that the biggest gift of the day was the man himself. And whereas for a few weeks leading up to this day I had at times wondered where the years had gone and had even once or twice caught myself wishing him to be younger, to be in fact, in the late summer of his life as he had been in that late summer when we met, now, as my gaze came to rest on him, his animation ageless, his curiosity and enthusiasm still almost childlike in intensity, now I understood the necessity of time; that the accumulation of it, the time it took to bring this man to this moment in time, is what has made it possible for him to realize and manifest the fullness of his potential; a man not only immensely creative and disciplined but a truly free spirit whose heart is wide open to the giving and receiving of love.Slowly the afternoon begins to give way to evening and as our friends rouse themselves from the couches one of them notices my new digital piano and I, knowing that he has a background in jazz, invite him to play. And so it is that Joel is serenaded for the 3rd time that day with a subtle, poetic rendition of Happy Birthday, the first rendition having been given voice to spontaneously when our friends had arrived and I, noticing we were standing in a circle, invited us to join hands, swooping Joel into the middle as we sang and danced around him.I can honestly say that Joel’s birthday was the best birthday I ever had! May his Indian summer last another quarter century.
And so the week has loped along and we along with it. Thursday we didn’t so much lope, as loll, managing to make it to the post office to pick up another birthday present and arriving back at the house in time for Joel to receive an enormous vase of tulips from his daughter and her family, the tulips bold as only tulips can be, bordering on brazen in their scarlet and yellow petals, ablaze on the table.
Friday we were gifted with rains of monsoon intensity giving us permission to read and write all day, the fire a steadfast companion, the birthday greetings still coming. Yesterday we shopped at the outdoor market in Apt, the sun as intense as the rains of the day before, the stalls overflowing with all the produce we love so much, the vendors and shoppers all abuzz with spring. The first asparagus and strawberries of the season have arrived, the former fat and succulent, the latter robustly red and juicy.Back at the house we unpack our baskets and lunch on the deck, faces to the sun, birds flitting in and out of trees and hedges, mad with song. And oh, the street carnival! Quick! We climb to the top of the village where perhaps 200 villagers and their children have gathered, the children dressed as clowns and princes and various comic book heroes. It turns out it is the children who are the carnival as, led by a singular float shooting us all with confetti, we wend our way down the narrow streets accompanied by a Fellini-esque sound track.Carnival2The sun is hot, the children still innocent and we are filled to bursting with joy and gratitude for the simplicity of this life; that it has come down to this: the small things, the food and firewood, the lavender field, the almond blossoms, new friends and long lunches, flamboyant flowers, the olive trees shivering in the breeze, the sun like a warm hand on our backs as we return once more to this house that isn’t ours but that we so easily call home.