Cuckoo’s Nest

I'm nesting again...my roost is considerably smaller than it used to be but I’m nesting nevertheless. Spring is doing it’s best to arrive. And each year, when it appears, so does some inherent, primitive genetic memory that drives me to these sorts of activities. And what are the two things one must do in the spring? The answer is obvious. On rainy days, the basement and the linen closets get cleaned. On nice days, the garden is prepared for the glories of summer. 

Last weekend it rained so I tackled the basement. This was an epic task at my home in Wisconsin. Mostly because I am a walking, living, breathing antonym to the word “neat”. And also because my basement was like many Midwestern basements...big. Cleaning my “basement” now, in my little 400-year-old apartment in France, involves lifting up the bamboo rug in my kitchen, removing the piece of plywood that is the “basement ceiling”, climbing into the 3x3x3 foot hole in the floor that constitutes my cellar and emptying it of several years worth of somebody elses's dried up paint, a few terra cotta pots and several moth eaten rugs. That’s it! C’est tout! All I really needed to do was find was a little space to stash a suitcase or two since I have no closets (thus there is no need to clean them). Mission accomplished in less than 1 hour. Whew, that was exhausting…this calls for a glass of wine and a little relaxation! 

As much as I love living in the heart of the city, it does have it's drawbacks, the most dire is the lack of green space. I'm accustomed to a yard. You know what I’m talking about! Big enough to handle a neighborhood touch football match or a game of fetch with the dog. And though I don't miss mowing or raking, I miss getting my hands dirty in the soil, the smell of worms after a rain, watching tiny shoots grow into a lush community of green, firing up the barbeque and the smell of the roasting meat, and lounging with a cup of coffee or glass of wine (this wine thing seems to be a pattern) and surveying my kingdom. 

My "kingdom" these days is a 9x9 terrace overlooking a terracotta-tinted canopy of rooftops, with chimney and TV antenna emergents scattered about. Not my former empire, but I've decided to establish rule nonetheless. So Saturday, with all my extra time after cleaning the basement, I went to the store and bought a few more pots, soil, plants and a big umbrella to protect me from the unrelenting summer sun. As has always been my habit when it comes to gardening, I went overboard. But really, how bad can that be aside from an unplanned dent in my wallet!

I spent the next day removing all the old wires and lines that crisscrossed my terrace, planting, rearranging, trying to follow the parasol assembly directions in French and generally having a wonderful time. And it took one, itty bitty portion of an afternoon. I can now sit on my terrace, wine in hand (oops….this may be a problem!)  and when the sun actually shines (it’s been a rotten spring), it releases the heady scent of jasmine, rosemary, thyme, lavender, basil and mint. In a few short months my tomatoes will be begging me to eat them.

The pièce de résistance is my little green barbeque grill. It’s kind of a useless thing actually. It doesn’t even have any ventilation (I have to provide that with my lungs) but I have managed to cook some kebabs and a couple of hamburgers. And it was cheap. But it’s the jewel in my “garden” and makes it feel like home. Last night, I lit some candles, put my feet up, and purred.

Now that everything’s ready, it’s time to have a party to celebrate all that is spring. It’s to be an American party complete with beer, Johnsonville Brats (yes, I actually found some), hamburgers, ketchup, potato salad and chips, with a little dip made with Velveeta cheese thrown in for true authenticity (my friend just received some in a package from the states). The guests will be both American and French but we all generally speak in French.  One American friend responded to the invitation by saying, “It’s an American BBQ…let’s make a rule that EVERYONE has to speak English, and let’s drink beers and enjoy watching them squirm with the language challenges for a change”!

That made me laugh but I know it won’t go that way. We will speak French and I’ll be the one squirming as usual. And if it rains, we won’t have the option of playing pool in the basement. But everyone can gather under the umbrella in shifts and watch me, the human bellows, try to keep the fire going! All in all, it sounds like a delightful evening and a worthy inauguration of spring, don’t you think? And I deserve it after all this strenuous work!

Bon Printemps!