Thanks to this lovely little blogging community, Caroline and I have become friends who share a passion for gorgeous photography, baked pastries, and all things French. Here, she shares her love story — like something out of a fairy tale. See more on her blog, Coeur de La.
In 2005, my husband, then boyfriend, visited his family's dairy farm in France after graduating from UC Davis. There he worked on the farm, milking the cows, getting up before the sun, and letting the tending of the cows dictate his day. Postcards, phone calls, and emails were how we communicated for four months. To say it was difficult would be an understatement, but it shaped our relationship in a good way, and when I had the opportunity to visit him, I most certainly jumped at the chance.
I remember my first night on the family farm ... it felt like a dream: the smell of cows, crisp autumn air, and cheese. If you are a self-proclaimed Francophile like me, then you know what I'm talking about. I knew when I first met eyes with my husband at the airport after four long-awaited months that I was in love. In love with him, in love with France, and in love with the farm.
Seven years later, we made another trip to France and things on the farm were still the same. The milk fresh, the morning breakfasts simple and sweet, the coffee strong but perfect, and the long wooden farm table decorated with crumbs from baguettes and painted with dollops of a variety of confitures.
Each morning I would look forward to those breakfasts where the family sits. I'd daydream about a life in France while spooning a heaping amount of confiture de peches onto my baguette. France. The Farm. The Family. A place that I will always hold dear as it reminds me of the year that I fell in love with my husband. A year that remains dear to me as it was a year that our own love story was written, something I will hopefully share with my children and grandchildren for years to come.
Thanks, Laura, for inviting me to share my own little love story with your readers. I am a true believer that we all have our own stories — ones that are better than those written in books, as our stories are one thing that those stories are not ... they are simply our own.