French Flea Market Finds
By Corey Amaro
Lace snowflakes. I am catching them to keep me warm. It is cold enough to snow here in Provence, France, though it rarely does. When it does snow, the entire area closes down. A novelty like snow makes the south of France stop in its tracks.
Snow reminds me...of Christmas, though I am from California and can count the times on less than five fingers when it snowed on Christmas.
Snow reminds me of the first time I saw snowflakes. When I was nineteen, I went to live in a Benedictine Monastery in New Mexico. After evening prayer, Father Tim pulled me aside and silently led me outside. He pointed upwards. At first, I thought he was pointing towards heaven or something. Then I felt the soft snow falling on my face.
Holy Night! I saw the snow glistening as it passed by the outdoor light. It wasn't just ordinary snow; it was tiny, intricate, heavenly-designed miracles, snowflakes. It was by far one of the most beautiful moments at the monastery for me. (Up until that moment, I thought snowflakes were only make-believe, things that children cut out of paper to make snow appear fairytale-like.) Standing after prayer, outside in the freezing, New Mexico cold, watching snowflakes floating down outside the back door to the kitchen. I can still see them in my mind's eye.
Heavenly host. Christmas time is coming.
Corey Amaro is an American living in the south of France. Her blog (Tongue in Cheek, Living in France & French Antiques, The way I see it) can be read at http://willows95988.typepad.com/. Her email address is firstname.lastname@example.org
(Photos, courtesy Corey Amaro.)