My terrier lazes beside me, both of us soaking up the faint sun sifting through the curtains. We're as still as the evergreen that stands tall outside my window, clinging to the carefree memories of summer. Raven black thunderclouds prod the Burgundian hills each afternoon, followed by fat raindrops. Dampness clings to me like a second skin. It's time to "gather up" (a phrase I learned long ago from my children's great uncle in Central Montana) and get my head out of the lazy season's rêverie to make way for the new.
As days slowly become crisp and slightly melancholic, I have a squirrel-like urge to stock up on supplies and be industrious. How difficult it is to break the busy habit after two decades of back-to-school shopping for our five children! Now, I must forge a different path in France and replace comfortable old traditions with new ones, even if bittersweet. And resist the urge to fill every minute of my day with tasks and activities.
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