Coming.

On longer evenings,
Light, chill and yellow,
Bathes the serene
Foreheads of houses.
A thrush sings,
Laurel-surrounded
In the deep bare garden,
Its fresh-peeled voice
Astonishing the brickwork.
It will be spring soon,
It will be spring soon --
And I, whose childhood
Is a forgotten boredom,
Feel like a child
Who comes on a scene
Of adult reconciling,
And can understand nothing
But the unusual laughter,
And starts to be happy. 

Phillip Larkin, “Coming”

A while ago I wrote about seasons, and we have arrived at the point of entering a new one, this time literally. The snow has gone (enfin!) and the first signs of spring come in the form of the occasional appearance of the sun, treating us with a warm glow to soften the wintery chill that lingers. The other sign being of course the daffodils offered by my most recent guests (more on that in a moment), which are currently artistically arranged in a mug but adding a welcome touch of yellow to the chez moi in Alsace.  As I wait not just on kinder weather, but the other developments that spring will carry, I found this poem oddly fitting this week. Capturing the quiet anticipation of change that is to come, and the serenity of an evening in which the first traces of the brighter seasons appear, Larkin gives us all a welcome a moment of calm optimism filled with a glimpse of the treasures of spring. 

My warmer season started with the reoccurring phenomenon that is the French school holidays. Their long working days are definitely compensated for by the fortnight break granted just six weeks after Christmas. Informed by the majority of my pupils that their plans for the holiday were to “sleep”, even with my occasional unproductivity at least I can be assured I have achieved more than they have. Week one meant the long anticipated visit from the Graces (minus petit-frère).  Braving the then still freezing temperatures (Alsace is apparently fond of climatic extremes…) we spent 3 days in Strasbourg, allowing ample time for our usual activities of frequenting cafés and having repetitive conversations. It also meant I was treated to a mini-holiday, much afforded by our hotel. Our touristic feats extended to being taken for Germans in a restaurant, trying and failing to find a museum that really should be taken out of all guide books as it seems it does not exist, and buying souvenirs that are at the same time completely unnecessary and entirely essential (my red and white Alsace-y apron is making cooking an even more enjoyable experience). We also enjoyed a boat trip, which enabled us a warm and informative (got to love audio-guides) to the sights of a très jolie ville.  Returning to Guebwiller, I was proud to show off my small part of an impressive looking residence, although we did understand why my studette was definitely only designed for one.  After 5 days of very English company, this week has been a return to the quiet pottering that seems to characterize my life à l’Alsacienne.  Learning to quite enjoy a slower pace of things (and occupying myself with a not-so-blog-worthy essay) it’s now time to start thinking again about the awkward silences and not-so-discreet French grumbling that awaits next week.  The lessons recommence, and with them the final chapter of the story in Alsace. Bring on the longer evenings, it will be spring soon!