Weaving In The New Year

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I am writing this on the threshold of the old year disappearing and the new one emerging. A quiet in-between time for reflection.

It’s a bit of a struggle to remember the first half of the year, as if everything is blurred in the dark haze of the continuing confusion of our times. We must have chopped a lot of wood, as always, and rolled up our sleeves to get on with the task list Lescure keeps throwing at us. Then, just like that, Thomas’ mum Jeanne passed away. They say losing a parent changes who you are. And so it went.


Summer came, we played with friends and worked some more. Thomas and I celebrated our seven-year château anniversary. Seven magical years of adventures in awakening: restoration headaches, growing pains, belly laughs and fights, triumphs and mistakes. We rounded off the year with an intimate winter retreat, by coaches for coaches. It wasn’t what we had planned, but it came about organically. It felt exactly right and we got the taste for more.


But for now, I find myself standing in darkness and pastoral silence. Here in these timeless woods I have found a vast imaginative space where I can take pleasure in the beauty of the everyday, both of the ordinary and the particular. But dealing with the absurdities of a project of this size has also taken its toll. So, I intend to take it slow for quite a while. Folding my wings and holding them close to my body. No big jobs – I couldn’t tackle them even if I wanted, I overexerted my hands and need to give them a much-needed rest. Lots of walking and reading I imagine. Contemplation of the soul of objects, the play of light, shadows and reflections in this beautiful place, my eyes on the lookout for a more balanced universe. Then one day, I can pick up one of the loose threads and start weaving new elements into the fabric of our life here.

Have a great New Year! Much love and happy weaving.

Artphoto by Peter Stigter - Alexander McQueen at Paris Fashion Week Fall 2006.


  1. Dearest Veronique and Thomas — As always thank you for your poetic take on life and your sadness and joy. Your words always quiet my soul and make me take a deep breath. I wish you both peace and renewal at this shift from one calendar year to another. Of course, just because the calendar changes, it does not mean the earth changes any more than it would normally as the winter days lengthen toward spring. We have yet to enter “winter” here in Indiana. It is abnormally warm and my wildflower garden keeps trying to start growing again, then it gets nipped by a drop into the 20s and then warms up into the 60s again. Very disconcerting. I couldn’t do Christmas this year. We celebrated Mother’s 100th birthday and that was all the celebrating I could do while still feeling the agonizing loss of my brother. He should have been with us laughing and blowing up balloons and singing Happy Birthday to our mother and watching her try to blow out candles that kept relighting themselves. Scott would have loved that. So I haven’t sent out cards or written a letter. I didn’t put up a tree. I just couldn’t. I am hopeful that as time passes my grief will change character and become more bearable. In the meantime, I wish you and Thomas a very Happy New Year, with hopes it will bring good health and peace on your beautiful estate. Much love to you both. Marti

    • Dear Marti, thank you for your kind words about the blog and for sharing your experience. I will send you a private note. Take care xxx

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