The Rhythm Is Gonna Getcha!

It wasn't a typical morning of chores, as I will soon reference, but I was out getting it done.  Doing my best to stay present in the current task so I don't overlook something critical to the safety of my animals, the ring of the phone caught me off guard.  The caller ID showed a long series of numbers with no dashes which I have come to recognize quickly as an international call.

"Hello!"
"Hello, Noelle? This is Michel from France."

It was a surreal moment in that I suddenly was being transported over the continent and an ocean to a memory of one of my visits to France.  I didn't meet Michel in France, but his accented English and manner of speaking had me comfortably seated in a cafe in Brest.

Michel and his wife Danielle were here in Bend a few weeks ago. They discovered Maverick's and had come out dancing several of the nights they were in town.  They are avid dancers in France.  The minute I saw them take the first step in my lesson, I thought, "We need to talk."  As it turns out, they come to this area every year for a month or so to ski, and now to dance.

Michel had called to get the names of the dances I had taught that night so they could start sharing them with their group.  Considering I forgot to lock in the hens last night, I was hard pressed to remember what I taught in that lesson.  I asked him if he remembered the first steps of any of the dances and he said, "Yes! Skate, skate."  Say no more, that is Covered in Kisses.  In that instant he couldn't remember the steps of the other two dances, but he said, "They will come to me as I have been practicing them.  I will be in my garden and suddenly, I start dancing!"

Such kindred spirits.  The romance of a garden in France with sweet tender blossoms, inspiring one to chasse over to the next planter pairs with wandering the dry lot with a manure cart and fork and breaking out in a triple step while avoiding the little hooves of circling goodles.