An English word as prosaic and fraught with negative connotations - dawdler - becomes flâneur in French. That I am a country dawdler conveys that I am someone for whom dawdling is an art form if not a profession. Why I'm just this far from being outright lazy. Yet the French have, as is their wont, a word for it. Flâneur sounds and looks so much more respectable. In much the same way bachelor seems so much less forlorn than spinster. And flâneuse appears nearly as glamorous as femme fatale! But this blog is not about gender terminology at all. Rather I'd like to document in desultory fashion my evolving views on the hard work of trying to bring order to life in the country.
Later this month we will complete the transaction that will make us the owners of seven very beautiful acres of land in the Berkshire foothills of western Massachusetts. We've lived here for over twenty years and have learned much (been taught much, really) but still know that we have far to go before we have brought order, tranquility and serenity to our life. Add the urge to be responsible (in the manner build our house and plant our garden) and suddenly the chaos of too many choices rears its ugly little head. This blog is about how we'll sort through all of that possibility and come to terms with our land and our lives. Well, our land at any rate.
So, we've begun!
