Tag Archives: poeme

April 28, 2014

 

We finally got some much needed rain this weekend (it always seems to come on a weekend!).  The snails are happy.  The photographers were out hunting rainbows.  The pattering sound on my roof was comforting.

I have only one haiku so far that mentions rain in Paris (but it’s not about singing in it), so I thought I’d post that one this week.

The sheets of gray zinc used on the roofs of so many Paris buildings gives almost any view over the city’s rooftops a uniform and rhythmic quality.  Add in the rows of clay chimney pots and topmost windows (often with flower boxes full of bright geraniums overflowing the railings), the ubiquitous shutters and cream-colored building façades–and you have another “icon” of Paris:  its rooftops.  The patterned effect is charming.  They look even better when wet!

(Note:  My photographer son shot this photo looking out from the Chimera Gallery up on Notre Dame Cathedral.  Many people also enjoy the classic rooftop views seen from the top steps of Sacré Coeur.  You might have a favorite rooftop view from your own balcony!)

My 17-syllable impression is below.  I encourage you to give yours!

Haiku Rooftops 2

April 19, 2014

Snails:  alive, cooked & gilded!

It’s been dry for weeks in the Paris metropolitan area, in the region called “Ile-de-France.”  The spring flowers have been exceptional, however, due to the long, wet winter and mild temperatures.  To my delight, the dryness means the snails have stayed sealed and “glued” to their hideouts and not eaten much in the garden, yet.  But clouds are blowing in and rain has come and gone in short bursts.  If it rains tonight, the snails will be out to feast and drink.  And, “crunch.”

Ugh, how I hate that sound and the twinge of guilt I suffer when I accidentally step on one in the dark when I come home late.  Crunch … sorry!  I don’t like living snails …

And I’m not fond of the dead ones either, but many people enjoy a plate of them as an appetizer, my husband among them.  I believe that cooking almost anything in butter and garlic makes it palatable, even delicious, so I do understand how folks can eat them.  More for you if I abstain.

At number 38 Rue Montorgueil is a traditional French restaurant called L’Escargot, and it has over the door the biggest snail in Paris that I know of—it always makes me smile.  A gilded mini-monument.   At number 51 is Paris’ oldest pastry shop, Maison Stohrer, which opened in 1730, and is famous for its baba au rhum pastry.

Rue Montorgueil is a typical, lively market street.  Other market streets worth a visit include Rue Mouffetard, Rue Daguerre and Rue Cler.  All are wonderful to explore and shop in, but this charming snail and the historic pastry shop make Rue Montorgueil one of my favorites.

And now to sum it all up in 17 syllables:

Haiku Snails