It's 6:45 am. Dark as midnight. I hear the diesel van park with a rattle and a thud. The gate slowly opens and from my bed I picture this man, who has been at the Castle every morning at this hour. His steps are fast paced against the gravel.
I want him to wear a beret, loose fitting clothes and leather shoes. I suspect he's in his 60's with a mustache and tired morning eyes. He hangs a barrel Sack of canvas over his shoulders. I want to believe its contents keeps him warm on these cold dark mornings...

He's the bread delivery guy.

As we near the end of the trip, I sneak out of my warm bed to get a look at this reliable morning guest. Peering thru the window into the darkness, I catch a glimpse.

He is young. 20 ish. He's wearing neon running clothes and bright orange sneakers. He's carrying a big box like a tray piled with breads and croissants. He's got a headset in. The white cord stands out in the dawns darkness.

I suspect he's off for a run after his dark morning deliveries.

He walks empty handed back to his truck at the gate.

I quietly wish I had not looked! I get back under the covers.

I needed him to wear that beret! I saw the loaves of gluten goodness jetting out of his barrel sack. Those tired 60 something bakers eyes...wow..how I miss them now!

Regrets. I have a few.

I snuggle up to my sleeping husband. Warm under the covers.

Who cares about the Beret! ❤️ it's fresh french bread...delivered. A different kind of heaven.

I heard it bounce against the cobblestones. A tinny sound skipping amongst the car noises, tourist chatter and the street performers guitar. I looked around fearful I had dropped something and there it was...a wedding band glistening in the late afternoon Parisian light. I picked it up and started running up and asking men who'd passed me if they'd dropped this ring.
At the Opera House in Paris.

I was dismissed! Refused! As if I'd manufactured the story to Accost them! Someone will be sad tonight, I thought.

I asked a woman who was from Turkey if she knew what I should do with this ring....

She said " congratulations you have a souvenir of Paris!"

I caught up to my husband and Hosts and asked what should I do? An ad in the paper ? My host said it was an expensive ring. 18 karat gold! Stamped and engraved.... I wore it on my first finger and went about Paris.

My host suggested turning it into the police station because it was so expensive. He said if we hocked it, it would pay for the trip!

He couldn't believe my good fortune!

After hours in the city, I took it off. And there, clear as day and dark night on my skin was a green ring around my index finger where the expensive ring had been.

The cheap ass ring!

Still a souvenir...of Paris!

Royalty at breakfast...

The Count of Chateau Raray snuck into the breakfast room and sat with us. As he spread Camembert cheese over the fresh bread he confided in challenged french-English "if you see my wife, I was not here"! A wry smile lit up his face as he shared he is trying to lose weight and cheese is not on his menu!
His eyes dart from side to side before delighting in his first bite. Then without exaggeration his eyes close and he delights with an appreciative moan. "magnifique" he says as he lathers up the next piece of bread!

We laugh and he says he must make sure the food he feeds his guests is good, no? And he enjoys another bite.

I'm intrigued by this Royal. He tells us he was a bad student. He almost asks forgiveness for being born with silver spoon. He says he was a terrible test taker but great with math. He knows the business principle of "buy low sell high" and claims this is why he's held on to his billions.

The language challenge makes the conversation more honest. Finding the understandable words leaves no room for small talk or embellishing.

He tells us the tree houses were his son in laws idea and since they opened in May there has not been one day empty! He scratches his 78 year old head and claims "I don't believe it".

He has a joyous face. A face that has laughed much.

He tells us of his daughters chateau in Fontenbleu as he enjoys another bite of cheese and bread. He says it is like "living in a dream". His son in law has installed tree houses there too! "Very successful, he says then reaches over and touches my knee and says "tree houses for the very young and not for me" with a wink he goes back to his cheese...

I like this guy.

He says we should stay there one night. He will make arrangements. At his daughters chateau it is 1500 euro to cross the threshold. We decline with graciousness. By the time his testing our breakfast is done he's offered us a free stay at his daughters home! This is the price of keeping his sneaky breakfast a secret! Ha ha

Later, from our windows in our room, I notice he and the Countess leaving the grounds with mops and brooms! I smile and call out "bon jour". He smiles and invites me to come with them to the church. I am pleased for the invite. He waits at the gate for me.

We walk over cobblestones and he tells of his childhood in this sweet french village. He points where Germans held Americans captive and where his parents hid food. He tells me the church lost all its windows from the pressure of the bombs. The countess is busy dusting when she shows me the 17th century paintings still preserved in the church. A pride of the town that these were not taken by the Germans. They were well hid and preserved.

He chuckles. And says "look, the Count and Countess cleaning the church for Sunday service, it's our pleasure". The Countess smiles at him and says in perfect English "it's our privilege!"

Sweet Nobility! I like these people!

Church bells ring...often here.  

These magnificent buildings on The hill were built closer to God but mostly so pilgrims from afar could find the village.  These "hubs" of the village were the center focus, there was no separation of church and state.  The music had purpose.

There are bells for worship or for market.  There are bells for political gatherings and bells for farmers.  There are bells for death and bells for birth... These bells are the original community "text messaging".  

These bells, bell towers, churches were the "graham bell" of communication in mideveal times.  They were the "Marconi station" between villages.  

These bells sound often during the day here.  They are mostly to tell us the hour.  They are romantic.  Their tune is different. Locals don't even hear them anymore ...but I do.  

I will miss these bells..