When I was a student in France, I loved being here so much that I quit college so I could stay here. Yesterday while we were helping to harvest grapes at Domaine de Thermes, I joked that I might quit writing and just do farm work in France. There is an organization that could make this little dream come true. http://www.wwoof.fr/. Something to think about, but I'm already imagining the stories that might arise out of that experience so I probably won't give up writing forever.
Our afternoon of harvesting (which is always done by hand because the land is so hilly) was just one postcard after another.
It's a surprisingly low tech operation at Domaine de Thermes. When the augur or maybe the stemmer wasn't doing what it was supposed to do, Thierry just banged on it with a big hammer. Voila--juice began flowing through the hose into a tank.
When we got back to Moulin a Nef, there was a lovely dinner. A poet and her husband, a sculptor, la directrice (who could give up painting if she wanted and just cook--she's that good,) her husband and my fellow resident writer, Jamie Cat Callan, and me--future farm worker.