Our choir mistress, Madame Catherine, was a Consecrated Virgin. I kid you not. She was a secular person who didn’t marry, but devoted her life to the Catholic Church. In her youth she’d fallen for a man who had a beautiful voice, but he left her for a Greek girl. One Christmas he returned to sing Oh Holy Night with her at midnight mass. Standing behind her in the choir loft, I remember how her tiny shoulders tightened when they sang the passage fall on your knees. I now know why we French celebrate Saint Catherine’s day by pulling taffy.
Photo from la Fédération 23 Cercle de Fermières La Sarre
die Eulenflucht - Foreground dark speckled with lights from neighbour's windows foreshadowing stars about to twinkle in the deep blue background The sky is blue. The blue of...
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