Season Greetings !




Joyeux Noël à toutes et tous !

Have a wonderful and blessed Christmas !


Marianne, Summer and Elisa

The girls are looking at Laura kissing Father Christmas…

Laura & le père Noël — Noël au village


While we are very quietly waiting  for 2017, frost has decided to visit us in Normandy ! How cold is it !

Frost in my garden, 30.12.2016
Frost in my garden, 30.12.2016



Welcome 2017 !




May this New Year bring you Health,

Happiness and Joy !


♥ The Death of the Old Year ♥

                                                                                  by Lord Alfred Tennyson (1842)
  Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing;
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year you must not die;
You come to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.

He lieth still: he doth not move;
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true true love,
And the New-year will take ’em away.
Old year, you must not go,
So long as you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.

He froth’d his bumper to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But though his eyes are waxing dim,
And though his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I’ve half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.

He was full of joke and jest
But all his merry quips are o’er.
To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he’ll be dead before
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps; the light burns low;
‘Tis nearly twelve o’clock.
Shake hands before you die.
Old year, we’ll dearly rue for you;
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before you die.

His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone,
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse and let him in
That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
There’s a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.


frost in my garden
Frost in my garden, 31.12.2016


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