Thunderstorms in the evening in February. That doesn't happen in Saint-Aignan, but that's what we had last night on the North Carolina coast.
Six hours of heavy rain at one stretch. That seldom happens in Saint-Aignan either. The fact is, the annual rainfall total here in N.C. is 3x what it is in the Loire Valley.
Collards from a prison farm. You wouldn't get that in Saint-Aignan. My mother does volunteer work at a "food mission" where people in need — des cas sociaux, in French, I think — can get free groceries for themselves and their families. Yesterday, a prisoner who grows collard greens for the prison cafeteria came in, with his guard, to donate fresh produce to the mission in exchange for some canned goods, bread, and sweets. Since the food mission is only open three days a week (Mon., Wed., Fri.), some of the volunteers got to take some fresh greens home. We cleaned and cooked collard greens last night. No, I'm not in Saint-Aignan.
My sister brought her 4-year-old granddaughter over to my mother's in the evening. She wanted to "meet" me because she had been hearing for days that I would soon be visiting. When she came into the room, she eyed me shyly. Then my sister said, "Do you remember him?" — I've met her two or three times in the past but she doesn't remember. I was sitting on the sofa. She walked over to me, hugged me, and said "Grandpa!" Ouch! As I hugged her I whispered in her ear, "No, I'm Uncle Kenny, not your Grandpa. Your grandmother is my sister." She seemed to understand. She's very cute.
I haven't seen the ocean yet. Maybe today. The beach here runs east to west, facing south. So even if I squint, I won't be able to see France. Maybe Florida.