It’s May and the poppies are blooming in Provence. Their tiny black faces almost obscured by their bright red hats, delicate, vibrant, petals wafting in the breeze.

Last year I was in Lourmarin admiring them. This year I should have been too but then the world stopped and everything changed.

But I know they're smiling once again, amid the olive trees, in the fields and along the country road sides.

A dotted carpet of crimson hats will be splashed in front of the Lourmarin château.

There’s no red poppies in northern California, where I live, 30 miles east of the City by the Bay. But in this beautiful, scenic area, in both the gardens and on the rolling hills above my house there are a mass of wild flowers, including local poppies.

Californian poppies, the dazzling orange little cousins of the poppies from Provence. This poppy, the Golden Poppy, is native to California. It grows wildly in great abundance and in 1903 was made the official state flower.

I'm sad to not be in Lourmarin and can you blame me....

But I'm lucky to be somewhere also very lovely, it's not too bad a view where I live!

And as an English girl, who might well be confused, living in California but passionately in love with Provence, I couldn't write about poppies without explaining their huge significance back at home.

Growing up in England, where poppies  flourish later in the year, I’d always associated them with the end of summer not the start. But most of all I think of them on Poppy Day, in November, dedicated to the remembrance of all those that fell among the fields of northern France and Belgium in World War I.

And those poppies that fringed the battlefields at Ypres in 1915 became immortalized in the words of a Canadian Soldier, Major John Macrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below

****

And as an English girl, so connected to the USA and France, the story of the poppies is entwined with these three places I hold so dear. For we owe the origins of the poppy as a symbol of remembrance to an American woman, Moina Michael, who having read In Flanders fields campaigned tirelessly for the poppy to be adopted as a symbol of Remembrance in the USA. In September 1920 the National American Legion agreed and inspired by Moina’s idea, a French woman, Anna Guerin, expanded it to help all those in need amongst the allies of France in Europe.

A year later, on November 11th 1921, Anna sent some French women to London to sell their artificial red poppies on Remembrance Day. It became the emblem for The Royal British Legion who every since have used the funds from Poppy Day to help a multitude of charitable causes.

Wherever you might be reading this I hope you have some flowers to brighten your day. In these difficult days of worry, whether red or orange, regardless of their color or where they grow, a bunch of flowers will cheer your spirits. Something I'm wishing for you all, with a speedy end to all uncertainty, when we we can all move freely and safely as we did before. Stay safe and well my friends.

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Every year on July 4th, thousands of Americans across this great continent adorn their homes in the stars and stripes, don their red, white and blue, attend local parades, and light up their BBQ's to celebrate America's independence from us, the Brits!!! Incredibly, 239 years later, we are each other's greatest friends and international allies and have been for decades. As Brits living in this amazing country we have always been warmly welcomed and have found life long friendships with the truly special people who have become part of our life here. Each year we have been moved by the patriotism and pride, resonating from every street corner, when the locals pulls out all the stops to celebrate their beloved country, during our little town of Danville's wonderful 4th July Parade.

The Stars and Stripes outside Pete's Brass Rail, Danville, California

An truck decked out for July 4th as can only happen in the 'good ole U.S. of A!

Every shop, restaurant and business premise dressed for the occasion!

All the way from Michigan, home of The Ford Motor Company!

Proud to be an American!!

Wild life of the West!

The brown bear, the mighty symbol of California!


Enjoying the BBQ during the parade!

On our way home our neighbor's home - the oldest house in town - built in 1860's by Robert Love !!

July 4th BBQ!

God Bless America!!

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There is something special about this time of year, a mystical wonder in the air, the anticipation of the season. Daylight fades much earlier, evenings are longer, there is a distinct chill at night and early mornings are fresh and crisp. Thoughts turn to Christmas preparations and in USA to Thanksgiving. It feels like people are shopping with a purpose for the upcoming festivities. Two nights ago we wandered around our small town of Danville whose shops had opened its doors in preparation for the season. Excited children rode on fairy tale carriages and had holiday photos taken with Santa. Tiny lights twinkled through the trees and Christmas music filled the air, the magic had begun, for this, my favourite time of year.

The evening light made everything so enchanting and shop windows looked just that bit more enticing.

It was easy to step across the threshold and become immersed in the season's sparkle!

Here, in one of my favorite local stores, there lay an abundance of temptation for your home and gifts to spoil those you treasure.

China, glasses and linen to make your table that more festive as those you love gather around it

When we stepped back outside children were chattering excitedly as the clambered aboard the fairy tale pumpkin for a journey around the local streets.

Two loyal and hardworking friends waited patiently

Caught up in the atmosphere and 'make believe' it is almost possible to see frost and snow on the windows!

Christmas is, after all, only a few weeks away

Where will you be shopping this Christmas?

P.S. Lucky me, I am going to London this week!

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Recently I have been busy networking with other writers, talking mostly about Provence. When the Franco-British Chamber of Commerce tweeted about me last week they referred to Shutters and Sunflowers as ‘a fun Franco British blog with a US flavor’. I was thrilled to get the mention but it got me thinking, I have written a great deal about Provence, it’s how I started this blog, but as the Chamber said 'I am an English girl from California......', maybe I haven’t given enough attention to the place I actually live in, a charming, leafy suburb just 30 miles from glorious San Francisco, the little town of Danville. Not a cobbled street, shutter or ancient limestone building in site but still a place I choose to move to from England and somewhere which will always be special to me.

We have actually lived here twice. In 1993 for two years, when transferred with work from England, we choose Danville because it seemed to be a vibrant, family community, a good place for our two young children (then 5 and 3), it was attractive and well located for work, equally accessible for Silicon Valley, the Peninsular and the city. We were not disappointed and through the children made life long friends who visited us in England and with all our relatives an ocean away, became part of our ‘American family’! In 1999, after four years back in England we returned; to the sunshine and a life style we loved and had missed. Skiing in winter and summers on the lake at Lake Tahoe,

the breathtaking beauty of the Pacific Ocean and the coastline of Carmel,

The Napa and Sonoma Valleys, only a 45 minute drive away,

and of course San Francisco itself,
but why did we choose Danville?

Simply put, Danville is a pretty place to be. It is picturesque, full of restored, historic properties whose character has been preserved as the town has grown.

Nestled 30 miles east of San Francisco, at the foot of the mighty Mt Diablo, the area was originally settled by native Americans.

With proceeds from the Gold Rush the building of a town began in the 1850’s and Danville grew as a small farming community. The coming of the railway in 1891 greatly helped its prosperity and growth. The old Railway Station is now the proud home to The Museum of the San Ramon Valley dedicated to preserving the history of the area.

Today Danville boasts good schools, with 2 well respected Public High schools, a small theatre, a beautiful library and an active community center. It has a thriving soul, with many small businesses, gift, fashion and accessory shops,

and an ever growing collection of restaurants and bistros which have made it a popular place for visitors.
Bridges Restaurant where 'Mrs Doubtfire' was filmed in 1993.

It plays host to many annual events; antique and craft fares, musical festivals and some magnificent automobile gatherings.

The older part of Danville is full of leafy lanes,

and like most Danville streets, they are flanked by well cared for homes and lovingly tended gardens.

Some of the original ranch properties and orchards still survive. The Love House, the oldest home in Danville, now a historic property, once surrounded by walnut groves and orchards owned by the Love family.

The old railway line, now part of the Iron Horse Trail, much loved and well used, threads its way through the center and beyond. On the ridges above the town more energetic hikes can be found, offering breathtaking views across the San Ramon Valley where the 680 freeway ribbons its way along. Danville straddles both sides of this valley, the wider community sprawling out mostly to the East towards Blackhawk and beyond. To the north it merges into Alamo and then Walnut Creek. Walnut Creek is Danville's closest main town, with its attractive downtown offering good shopping and also where the nearest BART stops, making San Francisco that much closer for commuters.

To the south, are the towns of San Ramon and Pleasanton where in gleaming business parks many Danville residents work. Every Saturday a bustling Farmers Market collects in Danville’s center.

Families with small children, people with their pets in toe, walkers from the trail all happily filling their baskets and being entertained by local musicians.

The symbol of Danville, its massive oak tree, is its focal point.

No more so than at Christmas when it is festooned by twinkling lights magically lit by the Snow Queen and Santa, cheered on by those same small children and their families as Christmas tunes fill their air and small mittened hands clutch hot chocolate or cider and nibble on cookies provided by local businesses. It’s a prosperous, family community, a happy place where elementary children still ride their bicycles to school, play safely in its many parks and gather together for all those sporting activities that the majority of the over 5’s participate in!

It’s a place where our visitors always comment how ‘unexpected’ and pretty it is. It’s the place where our children learned to ride their bicycles, danced in ballet recitals, found soccer stardom for the under 13’s, graduated High school and left in different directions for college. It’s a place our family loves, a place we call home………….

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Spoiled as we are by the continuing warm weather in Northern California, there are still signs everywhere that Autumn has danced her way back into our lives. Leaves carpeting the ground, acorns scattered below the trees and a distinct chill to the early morning air. Mother Nature wears her most vibrant gowns of burnt orange and red as the evening sky is splashed with crimson and the daylight dwindles much earlier. It feels like it’s time to cook stews and casseroles, and sip red wine by the glow of the fire! I thought you might enjoy some of my favourite recipes for this time of year, do send me yours!

One pot wonders ~ casseroles and stews!

One of the great things about casseroles or ‘one pot’ meals is that many of them are actually best prepared the day before which allows the flavours to enhance. They then just require gentle preheating before serving.

California's Napa Valley Vineyards in Autumn

As accompaniments I pre-prepare mashed potatoes, puréed parsnips, or puréed cauliflower, a more calorie conscious option. I simply boil potatoes or parsnips or steam the cauliflower, add freshly milled salt and pepper, maybe add some butter or cream, with the cauliflower I just add a sprinkle of parmesan, (any hard cheese will work) although this is entirely optional. To mash the potatoes I find nothing works as well as good old fashioned elbow grease and a sturdy fork but for the parsnips and cauliflower I use my immersion blender, the one kitchen tool I would never be without! This blender is also brilliant for blending soups directly in the saucepan, (click on the links to buy: in USA in UK.)  I put the mixture in the dish I intend to serve from, cover with clear wrap and then give them just 2-3 minutes of microwave ‘zapping’ before serving.

Crisp early mornings in autumn

Along with the main dish I also serve some bright green vegetables, such a broccoli, chopped kale, french beans, or spinach (which is especially good with lamb) all of which need little last minute
fuss and provide a vibrant splash of colour to the plate!

Autumn sky at dusk, Mt Diablo, Danville, California

Here are a few recipe suggestions for hearty autumn 'one pot' meals from some of my favourite chefs, along with links to buy their recipe books, happy cooking!

Coq au Vin - Julia Child recipe
Beef Bourguinon - Julia Child recipe
Recipe Book Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle & Simone Beck (Made famous in the Meryl Streep, Rachel Adams movie Julie & Julia)

Chicken with 40 cloves of garlic - Barefoot Contessa recipe
Recipe Book The Barefoot Contessa in Paris Ina Garten

Lamb with green olives - John Ash's recipe
Grandma's pot roast  - John Ash's recipe
Recipe Book From Earth to table by John Ash - winner of the Julia Child Cook book of the Year

Braised short Ribs -  Gordon Ramsey's Recipe
Recipe Book Gordon Ramsey's Ultimate Cookery Course by Gordon Ramsey

Beef and ale stew  Jamie Oliver's recipe
Recipe Book The Ministry of Food  by Jamie Oliver

Andy the Gas Man's stew (lamb) Jamie Oliver's recipe
Recipe Book Jamie Oliver's Dinners

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Pumpkins are such happy things, when I see them arranged in a pile as they are so often are at this time of year, well pumpkins make me smile! Life is a journey, a journey, that regardless of how well you think you have planned the route, can sometimes takes you down paths you didn’t intend to take. A journey, where the unexpected happens, where the bumps in the road make you wonder where you’re heading and feel unsure. It’s a journey when sometimes you feel really lost, when, with maybe tears not far away, you wonder in desperation how you ever got so far off course; health scares, money pressures, worries about people you love; they swim before your eyes like enormous road blocks.....

I know that feeling, I expect you do too, it is, as I said, part of this journey we are all traveling called life. Last week as I drove in seemingly endless circles around the same spot, my sunglasses all smudged I finally stopped. Momentarily dazzled, in that one tiny mili second of pausing, I looked upwards at the sky. The leaves rustled, sun rays dappled across the ground and I realized that the colours were changing, one season was quietly ebbing away as the next was re-introducing itself. I felt oddly reassured, and when I saw the pile of pumpkins outside my local grocery store I remembered nothing stays the same forever.

A crimson leaf, kissed by a rain drop lay at my feet as I opened the car door, it made me feel thankful, we so badly need some rain.

Outside the grocery store, huge preparations had been made to welcome the new season, it made me laugh, it made me feel happy, as I said pumpkins make me smile!

Cheeky red peppers in the market, sat next to baby pumpkins, just begging to be arranged upon a Fall table, it made me excited.

Oversized pomegranates seemed to demand to be caressed and turned over, anxious be able to make their contribution. It reminded me of my father and how he loved to buy us pomegranates at Christmas as a treat, it made me smile.

Giant sunflowers decked out in autumnal shades danced before me, they made me feel glad, glad that I had paused, glad that I had found the time to notice.

I could see a tiny clearing along the road, I wasn't lost after all. I just hadn’t been looking closely enough around me to realize that there is always a way forward.

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A morning walk in Danville should be part of my daily routine. But why can it be so difficult to motivate one self to get up earlier than perhaps necessary, to make the time to exercise? So often I lie there having a conversation with myself, ‘Virtuous’ urging me to pull on my exercise gear; reminding me that I will enjoy it and feel better once I am out. Then there is a ‘Sleepy’ desperately trying to silence ‘Virtuous’. Telling me to snuggle back under the duvet, that the only exercise required is that of pouring water into the coffee jug, that it’s early, that I am tired, that I deserve the rest….. For me it is a daily conversation and if ‘Sleepy’ wins and I indulge in bed I do indeed regret it. ‘Guilty’ lays a triumphant cloak called ‘Disappointed’ upon my shoulders, which sometimes ‘Virtuous’ succeeds in whipping away with a mop and broom insisting that vigorous housework is doing me some good! Do you ever have these dialogues with yourself?

I baffle myself that there is ever a battle as once I have made the commitment I do indeed love being outside in the fresh air. There is nothing quite like the smell of early morning, when the ground sparkles with diamonds of fresh dew and the chill of the cooler night time temperatures still linger. The hope and optimism of a new day dawning brightens my spirits. It’s a time to clear my thoughts, still tangled and jumbled from a night’s sleep. A few reflective moments when there is no phone to answer, no one demanding my attention, no email to open and reply to, just me and my good friend,  ‘Morning’. I reacquaint myself with the trees along my driveway and the mailbox at its end.

The roads I normally drive along become so much more interesting when passing them on foot. I notice the plants in the front gardens, determining which look most attractive and which are not part of the local deer population’s evening meal! There are the early morning signs of life, cars politely reappearing from their garages as they agreeably transport their owners back to where they took them the previous day. Dogs scampering wildly in their gardens and children dragging back packs along the ground to somewhat sleepily join the daily car pool ritual. There are gardeners already attending their ‘mow and blow routine’ and always a collection of other walkers and joggers to keep you company.


I gaze up the pathways to people’s front doors thinking how each home is so different and what its presentation says about its owners. I let my imaginings wander and ponder what is going on that very minute behind the pulled curtains and shuttered blinds. People dragging on their appropriate work attire, thinking ahead to their day’s schedule, sometimes already mentally at their workplace. Babies' needs being tended to, young children being told to hurry and eat their breakfast, mothers tying sneaker laces and dragging combs through their children’s hair, the generally scurrying around collecting books and homework lunch bags and brief cases. Older people quietly sipping a soothing hot beverage, musing over the morning paper and of course some people still fast asleep. Every day rituals that whilst they are happening seem unending but that in fact never stay exactly the same as babies become children who become more independent as teenagers and who eventually leave home.


Maybe today is someone’s birthday or anniversary or special celebration and equally maybe behind some of these closed doors is sadness, illness or loss. The mixed bag of ingredients of the journey of life. I look back at the street. I have just walked down.

Then turn away to continue on the Iron Horse Trail. A gift to us from a bygone era of steam trains.

Sheltered by a canopy of trees my heart marvels at my good fortune to be able to have this beautiful, peaceful trail to walk along, just outside my own back door. I glance at my watch to see long I have been going, enticing smells of fresh coffee wafting towards me and pervading my nostrils, as the local barista pours his new brew. The trail ends and I head for home passing the old Railway Station, now a museum and imagine what it must have been like many years ago standing here in long skirts and a wide brimmed hat, waiting for a train.

I begin my homeward march along the trail and back up the street and as I pass the homes and pathways on the opposite side of the road my busy contemplations continue.....

Energized and alive I am determined that tomorrow ‘Virtuous’ will defeat ‘Sleepy’ and I will discover new thoughts and reflections all over again as I exercise my body and spirit on my early morning walk.

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July 4th, the day when America celebrates her independence from Britain. Had things been handled differently, history might well have unfolded in another way, but 1776 is a long time ago, wounds have healed, differences buried, today we are each others greatest friends. And I am so fortunate to find myself living in this country, in this Golden state of California.
The brown bear of the Sierra's and especially Tahoe, is all decked out for July 4th, proud to be the symbol of California and fly on her state flag.

Beautiful Lake Tahoe ,where our family has made so many precious memories in both winter and summer and spent such wonderful July 4th's.

From the vineyards of the abundant Napa Valley, only 45 minutes from where we live,

to our stunning 'City by the Bay', San Francisco, where we have gathered with friends and celebrated the wine harvest under the Golden Gate bridge,

to the dramatic scenery of one of our most favourite spots, Carmel.

And now back to our home in Danville, where we have just returned after all our wandering, so close to all these most beloved places.

Today we have gathered a summer harvest from our friend's garden,

ready to celebrate July 4th here at home. We will remember the celebrations of long ago....

as we watch the Danville Parade

and then at home gaze in wonder at the breathtaking view of Mt Diablo from our deck.

thinking about all the wonderful things we have done in the last 2 years and feel so happy that we are all together and home for 4th of July 2013. God Bless the U.S. of A. and Happy 4th of July!

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'Provence' in California?  After a ten hour plane journey how can it seem like you had never left, shouldn't you be somewhere vastly different? Although there are obvious immense variances between Provence, where I had departed from and northern California, my destination, on this trip, I was also struck by the similarities. Maybe this is why both places hold such a special part of my heart. 'What?', I hear you say, how can anything in California, resemble anything in southern France? 'Processed', manicured efficiency colliding with rural, stone cobbled, shuttered, centuries of ancient history? Absolutely nothing in life is that 'black or white'!

Countryside bursting with the promise of spring, sweet fresh air, lush greeness, wobbly  fences, tumbling stone walls and a canopy of blue, so typical of a Provencal sky................but this is January in California's beautiful Napa Valley.

Well tended vineyards stretching in perfect symmetry, their vines resplendent, ahead of a new season's flourish.

French bistros with such temptations to choose from that any French bistro chef would be proud. Maybe a tad more 'beautiful' inside, maybe displaying more 'Frenchness' than the genuine article but still spilling over with ambience, charm and deliciousness, ~ after all my samplings in Provence , Bistro Jeanty in Yountville, Napa Valley, has never disappointed!
Tarte au citron meringuée, fromage de chèvre, noix et miel! Ils étaient magnifiques et tellement français!

Sunshine, blue skies, charming countryside, vineyards, olive trees, neatly cropped lavender, delicious food and wine with special friends, my favorite things, here and there!

There were things which reminded me which Continent we were in, the limo parked outside the winery!

Californian architecture and of course Palm trees!

Shopping, lots of shopping, why does the dollar go so much further!!!?

Download the Carmel-by-the-Sea, Travel Guide  

and

The San Francisco Travel Guide  ~ ideas where to stay, eat and play!

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Another Saturday, another farmer's market in the vibrant but somewhat sleepy suburb which we call home, Danville, 30 miles east of San Francisco. In the shadows of the old railway station, market holders have gathered.

More sunflowers, lavender, olive oil and a wide array of luscious orchard fruit, exotic orchids, field grown flowers, which look as they have just been gathered from the meadow.

Ripe local corn and a splendid assortment of vegetables.

To the strumming’s of a local guitarist, people wander happily down the aisles, trailing an assortment of baskets and packages, toddlers, buggies and brightly coloured plastic tricycles. Small children, and sometimes not so small children, are treated to freshly popped kettle corn as their parents try to avoid the temptations of the bakeries, home baked pot pies and buttery pastry enfolded bri cheeses!!

Friends gather on corners and happy shoppers meander away in to the small town's streets to share a coffee and catch up on the week's events.
The old station looks proudly on, the bustle of its former steam train life long since gone, replaced with the different rhythms of market days and exhibitions. Now a local museum, it proudly displays constantly changing and fascinating stories of the region's historical heritage. Elementary school children chattering excitedly, scribbling answers on worksheets which haphazardly hang off their clip boards, small groups of pensioners listening intently to the local curator and people like us, casually wandering by gathering information about the excitement of the Californian Gold Rush, the museum's current exhibit.
Laden with orchids, sunflowers and heirloom tomatoes we also seek our morning coffee,

We avoid the hubub surrounding one favorite spot, clearly the meeting place for 'The Tour de France', or so it seems! Grubby faced, somewhat weary cyclists of all ages, awkward in their too tight pants and bike shoes, clip clop their way across the courtyard to rest over steaming coffees, cappuccinos, lattes, non-fat this and low-fat that!

We sit outside 'La Boulange'.....French in name and sort of French in style. Resisting all the pastries

and baked delights we smile at each other thinking of different coffee shops far away but agree this isn't such a bad place to be after all!!!

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