On n'est pas à Lourdes ici.

I can't make miracles, even though I can now say I have been to Lourdes, the second most visited place in France after Paris.  Years ago, in Reims, famous for its own cathedral, I was treated to an extraordinarily bad hotel experience.  Following my outraged complaints, the manager lifted his shoulders in a Gallic shrug and declaimed what is now the title of this post. In other words: "we can't make miracles here."

It has been absurdly busy here in the countryside.  Cherry season, regrettably brief, is already heading out the door.  There is dark cherry sorbet in the freezer by which we will remember it.  There is also a new store of raspberry/blackcurrant jam in my pantry; the kids started cheering when they saw me making it, as we always go through that the fastest. 

 

The strawberries in my garden are long done and gone; I may have speeded up their departure by not watering them even once. Oops.  The garden is roaring ahead anyway, and pruning is an on-going process, especially among the roses.

A procession past the pick your own, giant prayer candle shack.

In between the cooking and the canning, there has been a passel of end-of-school-year activities. Recital concerts, horse events, school outings and such.

Getting holy, healing water from the source. In bulk.

Oh, and the pool's open for the season. Boy, is it open.

Taking a moment to savor the holy water.  Many queue to wash their feet.

There were twenty-five kids in my pool.  At once.  Diving, giggling and splashing well into Saturday evening. Others questioned my sanity, but it was an unqualified blast.  I even introduced these ten to twelve year olds to rice krispie squares.  Yup.  (Ever try to get a kid to taste something they've never had before?)   

The rice krispie squares were the only non-organic food on offer...and they devoured every single last one of them. Actually, they ate everything on offer. And guzzled grenadine like there was no tomorrow.

Selecting the holy design for the pressed eurocent.

 Then there were birthday parties, potlucks and barbecues to attend.

I gave the last reading at the library for the school before the summer, too.  We had a goûter to celebrate the year's worth of reading.  Feeling a bit old-school circa 1950s, I made pineapple upside-down cakes.  They went over very well--with the adults anyway.  Marbled chocolate cupcakes saved the day for the kids.

Sadly, I most definitely missed last week's red lunar eclipse, the 101 minutes of which I should have had a good view, given our clear skies. The moon was behind a mountain though, and lacking a babysitter, I was loathe to traipse off into the night looking for it.

All this to say it's getting tougher to find the time and mental space for writing in this pell-mell season.  I may have to skip another week, too.  Forgive me?   

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At least I took photos of some of the dizzying assortment of religious tchotchkes (or bondieuseries) for sale in Lourdes.

When we reached the grotto where Mary is said to have appeared eighteen times before little Bernadette, I was very surprised to see a photo of Nicolas Sarkozy among the more personal images (left, upside down). Someone is praying for the poor guy. 

Just beyond the grotto, there were prayer candles beyond any counting of it, touching in their simplicity.  All those troubles, hopes and dreams...rendered more poignant by the innumerable wheelchairs and stretchers on hand. 

There were entire vats filled with the melted and rehardened wax of candles. 

After all the crowds, queues, fervor and emotion, thank goodness there was the corner cafe cum fast food joint, for a pick-me-up and convivial chat.