Cows, Castles, and Countryside

After a splendid train ride along Lake Leman past picturesque villages perched on hills in patch work vineyards, we visited the demonstration Gruyères cheese factory, where the morning and evening milking is mixed and condensed into the famous cheese. Great rounds of cheese come from the thousands of gallons of milk, tested to establish over 200 flavors - clover, thyme, grass – produced by the local herds that wander the hillsides, bells clunking.



This quaint village is hosting the annual Book Fair which is of course a sorely tempting proposition. I got away with drooling over the complete history of Armenian art and a book of stories from Brittany. There was no book buying. I was dismayed that what looked like a chapel was a book exhibition, but the chateau was magnificent and well presented with a delightful multimedia spectacle. I will remember this as a childhood fantasy come true, round bedrooms in the tower, blooming gardens, mountain vistas out every window seat, and portraits of children everywhere.

The time period offered multiple painting, windows, and this display of armor, which made me think of Alan, my chained mail maker, and then of Kristy, and Eric, and Charity and Micah. How are my children, those that I cherish over time and great distance? My heart is comforted simply by thinking of them.













This one of the mama with her three girls (and the dog, Sue!) drew me in as well as the next one of the curly girl with the book. Sarah has been with me almost daily this week, and was certainly here as we left: a young musician with passionate commitment to his music wielded a rich voiced violin in the square as we passed. His gift brought her so close, backed up by the nearby alpine horn harmony that began as he finished. I thought of the other places that she has seemed to be present and to linger: Grenada in the Al-Hambra, Cornwall in the Heligan Gardens, the Sacré-Coeur of Paris. I miss my girl.


















Of all the Biblical stories to recount in art here, what better choice than the raising from the dead of the Roman's daughter? This is a bittersweet joy in the wonder of this place that brings my children so close to me.

Tomorrow we leave Geneva for Liège by way of Paris, a long day of travel. I’m glad to have returned to Geneva in time for the evening Mass before dinner. Time to pack and say farewell to this intriguing place.