stories and lentils

So, it's the time of the year that I had dreaded. The cold, short days without the excitment of Christmas to lift spirits. We arrived back in the south of France after Christmas in Normandy to a storm that seemed to last for three days. Thunder and lightening and never ending rain. The streams swelled to rivers and roared through the village, climbing up the walls of the houses built along the banks. The rain is very welcome. The land is thirsty for a winter of rain. Every morning that I wake to the sound of the rain on the roof and the rush of the small stream on the road outside I remember to be grateful for this water that will be reaching deep into the earth, lying dormant and then exploding green in the spring. It also means a lot of time indoors which is sometimes harder to find the gratitude for... The sea of toys that floods the floor, the endless requests to either bake or paint or create a boat out of the four chairs... At times it is no longer possible to get to the