Out and about at Paris Plage today, these two little girls walked by.  The love and friendship they shared was so apparent.

They giggled, talked and looked into each others eyes with arms wrapped around waists, locked together as they strolled by. 

At one stage, one of them lay her head on the shoulder of her friend.  It was so adorable to watch and so touching. 

Soul mates. 

And, such a cute umbrella too.

A few weeks ago I was searching the internet for excursions to do in and around Paris during the summer vacation, when I came across this website offering half price tickets to visit the Aquarium.  

Today we decided to put the tickets to good use, plotting that crowds would be quieter now half the city has migrated to the Dordogne and Aquitaine, and factoring in that Monsieur Meteo was including afternoon showers in his often inaccurate forecast. Apparently, we did better with our forecast than M. Meteo.

Though there were throngs of foreigners loitering on the forecourt at Trocodero vying for the ultimate tourist snap, the only inundation was one of fake bags and freelance vendors selling ostentatious key chains.

Stepping into the aquarium was like a world away.  The odd group of French children who hadn’t left for holidays, yet had been placed in summer camps, passed us by. Otherwise, it was quiet and un-crowded.

Two hours later we emerged.  Shirt sleeves drenched from a dip too far in the touching pool.

Only one item left on today’s agenda. Fairy floss.

The heat finally broke yesterday and for an hour or two, it looked like our al fresco dining plans would have to relocate inside. 

Then, almost as quickly as it arrived, the rain disappeared,leaving behind a fog of humidity that steamed upward from the ground.  Tables and chairs dried off, we indulged under the stars until midnight came and went. 

Summertime memories.

Today, the temperature hit 35 degrees in the shade out here to the west of Paris. 

Having learnt to adapt well, the curtains remained drawn (we don't have shutters), the fan turned non-stop and we kept the heat out.  The hitch to my hibernation being I needed to venture out,  to deposit my princess at the one thing that would be hotter than the pavement in Paris on a summer afternoon.....a pottery studio where the kiln added to the oven affect of feeling like a baguette browning in a boulangerie!

Safely dropped off, I had a couple of hours to return to my hibernation before I was required  to collect one warm and toasty little potter.

After the heat had finally climaxed and my little baguette was ready to bring home, the hour arrived with  the much sought after turn in the temperature. We took the chance to venture out, to watch the sun slip away without feeling scorched. It was our own little corner of paradise, ducklings, butterflies, wild flowers and an air thick with the fragrance of wild mint.

The only thing lacking from the day was ice.  Unable to make enough to keep up with our demand, it puzzles me why in France it isn't sold in bags at the corner store or gas station.  Seems like a great 'Start up' for a young seasonal entrepeneur, don't you think?

There are times when I might well be not considered the best parentand today may quite possibly be one of those days. 

It's grey outside and there has been a steady drizzle all day.  So what?  

Well, despite the dampness and the chill on this rather non-spring style day,  I let my four and a half year old do what many other sensible french parents wouldn't allow.  I let him run under the jets of the fountain on the market square and stood watching him giggle and squeal with delight. 

I could have denied him the pleasure but how much fun would that have been for either of us? He wouldn't have laughed so much and I would have dried salty tears instead of fountain drops.

Watching on and hesitating, a mother reluctantly let go of her child's hand to do the same.  Slowly, the corners of her mouth started to turn upward as she too felt the warm delight of watching little footsteps splash through the water, tapping against the pavement.

Returning home, he laughed some more, hiding amongst the flowers as they themselves hid under raindrops.  Sparkling drops, jewels on beds of violet brightening up the garden.  

Apart from the obvious delights, one advantage to having children is there is no need to borrow from a friend in order to sit  on a bench and not feel out of place in a hot, dusty french garden watching marionettes. 

Away from the crowds that were drawn to the Champs Elysee today to visit the artificial garden set up by the Mairie, we decided to pass the afternoon at the Jardin de Ranelagh.  It was a great choice and the hysterical laughs of the under age audience was nothing short of addictive.

Wandering around and trying to reconnect with the beauty of her streets, I came across a building in Paris where for a moment I felt like I might easily have been in Spain. 

Amongst the well kept Haussmannien buildings, the rustic exterior, complete with flower pots and curtain blowing gently through an open window was full of personality.  At the adjacent window  an elderly man tendered to his delicate flower bed.  

So mediterranean was it, I'd have been happy to walk around the corner, find a square lined with tables where I'd pass the afternoon, first with tapas, followed by a long spanish lunch and finished off with a siesta as the sun scorched the footpaths. Aahhh!

Given the lyrics, the dead pan serious expression on his face as he sings his own lyrics and the fact that I'm related, I can't, I can't, I just, just can't stop myself.   I might even follow up in a day or two with another of the originals 'A' has been working on.

This morning, there is a touch of spring in the air.  I'd read about the warmer spring days in Paris that happened in April but missed them as we soaked up sunshine on the other side of the world.   

When it came time to return to France, it was difficult enough saying goodbye to loved family and friends, but arriving back to cold, grey May drizzle in France only made me miss Australia even more.  Wrapping up in coats and scarves,  all the chocolate that was intended to last weeks was devoured in a short five days. 

Yesterday there was a tease of spring.  And, finally, today the sun shines.  The market had a little buzz about it, all the places filled up on the terrace at the local café and no-one budged to vacate their seats, myself included. 

Spotting the paeonie's in the market helped lift the spirits too.  They are like a wake up reminder that spring is here.  Just like Paeon was saved from the wrath of his jealous teacher Asclepius when Zeus turned him into a flower, the arrival at the market of the paeony announces winter is over.  Ready to embrace and enjoy the seasonal change and put away the coats for a few months feels like a saving gift from the gods.

A little over three weeks ago, I boarded a flight from Paris to Sydney, heading to my native homeland for many reasons.  Ahead was a journey of soul searching, a road trip as a solo parent without my partner in life along for support as I inject a little Australian heritage into our children, a journey as an adult child, a grown up friend, a daughter, a mother, a sister. 

I wouldn't be understating myself in saying that I've never felt overwhelmed by patriotism.  Quite the opposite, I never understood the need for a get together and booze up on Australia Day, the National Anthem never moved me (perhaps due to it being changed to a new and different one as I neared the end of my schooling), I didn't dance and kiss strangers when Sydney won the Olympics.  Rather, my adopted homeland is where my loyalties have lay.

Yet, much has come out of this time that is passing by so quickly.  After many years where I hadn't been in my homeland for a day of celebration or rememberance, on Saturday I stood amongst the crowd remembering fallen ANZAC's, their loved ones, friends who served alongside of them.  I hadn't anticipated the level of pride that would engulf me, the goosebumps, the tears that at times wanted to roll, hidden behind my dark glasses.  So proud to be a part of it, for my children to witness and ask questions; sad to see the loss in those who returned home with memories of Diggers gone to better places. Utterly moved by the friendship and the smiles that passed between faces.

May the memories live on for a long time to come. 

The tradition of ANZAC cookies started back in the time of the first world war.  Australian mothers and wives wanted to send packages to their men who were off fighting to defend the land of their monarch.   Included in the care packages were these cookies, egg free and able to last great lengths of time and remain edible.  Ninety five years on, they taste just as good as ever.  One can only imagine the happiness they brought to the ANZAC's.

1 cup plain flour

1 cup rolled oats

3/4 cup dessicated coconut

1 cup sugar

125gm butter

1 tablespoon golden syrup

1 1/2 teaspoons bicarbonate soda

2 tablespoons boiling water

Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl.  Melt the butter and syrup over a gentle heat. Add the bicarbonate soda to the boiling water and mix into the butter and syrup mix.  Pour the butter over the dry ingredients and mix well.  Roll into teaspoon size balls and make in a moderate oven (180deg celcius) for 10-15 mins.

Sandcastles, splashing and jumping waves at the beach filled another day in Australia.  There are no complaints from the smallest travellers.

Hope your Sunday was a fun one too.

Who doesn't like butterflies.  I love butterflies.  My kids love them more.  We've even been babysitting one for what seems like eons, though I'm beginning to wonder when if it's ever going to nibble out of the silk house it made so many months ago.  Impatient to wait, as of two weeks ago, we could once again start the pilgrimage out west of Paris to the 'butterfly farm'. 

I do it for my kids, not for me, as at the end,  I need to walk past glass boxes displaying gigantic (dead) spiders!  I like to turn the other way and pretend they aren't there, despite the calls of 'Mummy, looook!".  I could really do without the spiders.

Eight legged crawlers aside,  the butterflies are really something. Definitely worth a visit if you are in the area.

In celebration of National Craft Month, I'm sharing a children's craft from 'Smart Arts'. 

Apart from being something easy, fun and educational to do with little ones, without doubt, these are the most fantastic smelling dominos to be found.

Items you will need

One mix pâte à sel (2 cups water, 1 cup of fine salt, Slightly less than 1 cup water)

Rolling pin

Bottle of cloves

Grease proof paper

Ruler

Sharp knife or pizza cutter

Scissors

1. Preheat the oven to 100degrees Celsius (215 F) and begin preparations by cutting off the stalk of the cloves, keep the round end and discard the stalks.
2. Mix the pâte à sel and roll out until it is approximately 1cm thick.
3. Using the ruler and either the knife or the pizza cutter, cut strips 2.5cms wide.   Then cut each strip into pieces 5cm long and gently mark a groove down the centre of each piece. 
4. Gently push cloves into each side of the rectangle, using between one and six cloves per half to form a wonderful set of dominos.
5. Place in the oven at 100deg for 30minutes before turning up the heat to 150 degrees (300 F) and bake for a further  2-3hours.

Voila! Dominos to tickle the smelling senses!

©Carina Okula

I can't get enough of walking her streets, exploring, touching, smelling, taking it all in. 

It's such a glorious place to be, made even more so by the eclectic mix of people who live here, and those who visit.  I could happily sit in a cafe all day, doing little more than filling the hours with people watching. I wonder and imagine about everyone.  What are their lives like behind closed doors,  where does she come from, where are they going as they walk by, what conversation are they having that has them laughing, crying, frowning so deeply, who is he is thinking of as he so passionately plays that music, what is it in their souls that keeps them ticking?

Here are a few I admired and wondered about yesterday. I don't want them to speak as to answer my questions would destroy the mystery.  I just want to imagine, and, I'm still wondering now.

It's been such a fabulous weekend.  Finishing off with a Sunday in the gardens of the Chateau in Versailles where the sun sparkled like stars on the water, during the course of the weekend we also managed to discover a  wonderful thai restaurant tucked away in a lively little street of Paris (details soon) - so good that I'm ready to make the claim that I haven't enjoyed a meal quite that delicious in a long time.  Yum! 

Here are a couple of pics from Versailles. Hope everyone had a great weekend too!

Perhaps Thursday morning was the last of the winter weather in Paris? 

The cloud and rain were just enough to keep things damp and hidden. Yet, not enough to keep this guy from standing guard.

As I was sitting at the computer going through photos from yesterday, the sun came out and the afternoon is passing by with a beautiful blue sky.  It reminded me of some chairs that caught my eye last month when there had been another snow fall and the skies were grey.  Walking past a cafe, the bleu caught my attention.

With the sun shining outside on snow covered gardens, I'm dreaming of sipping a coffee in these chairs, soaking in the sun beams.... and I'm far from feeling blue.