Already had my first sauna..

First France, then Pioneer Days and now.. the U.P. Do you think I ever stay at home anymore?

It's not like I'm trying to go everywhere this fall, but it seems like that's what I'm doing. My Mom and Dad live in the U.P. of Michigan (specifically Gwinn), and a few of the kids and I are taking a long weekend visit while my Dad is hunting in Newfoundland.. (another story). We just got here this evening, and Will and Jamie will arrive on Saturday.

So, Mom and I traveled the distance up to Gwinn--about 8 hours with meal stops.
So far it's:
1) Cold. It's already down to 34* F--which is much colder than we've had in Rockford.

2) Hot. I already took my first sauna and poured about a bucket of water on the rocks.... aahhhh love it!

3) Just right. All the kiddos are in bed, and I'm about to join them.

Just thought I'd let you know that if I'm not able to reciprocate by visiting your blogs this week it's because I'll be posting but probably not surfing... (computer is very slow)

We came up here to catch some beautiful colors and scenery... hopefully we'll be showing you some, as we can.

Something funny: As anyone who has traveled in the U.P. knows, you go can go for LONG distances without seeing another car, a house or anything except trees. So, as it starts to get dark, we need to find interesting ways to keep ourselves entertained and awake through the dark jungle with no street lights and nothing else on the road to look at.

So as it will be, Mom and I start telling stories. I told her, "Mom, you know how in the U.P., you have all of those funny signs on the sides of the road?"

She's like, "no"

Me: "C'mon they're everywhere. Let's just keep looking for them.."

Sure enough, I couldn't even find one of them. So, I reminded her of a funny advertisement on the side of the road that used to be in Rockford. It was a sign with a middle-aged beauty queen and it said, "hydroponics" with no explanation of anything. We all agreed it was weird and never knew what on earth it was even advertsing. Hydroponic tomatoes? Hydroponic.. what?

Mom: "So, what were they actually selling?"
Me: "I think they were selling products so you could grow your own beer?"
Mom: "Grow your own beard? What does that have to do with hydroponics? Do you stick your chin in a bowl of water for three months and then.. Viola-- a beard?! "
Me: : "Beer! Grow your own beer!"
Mom: "Brew your own beer, not grow it."
Growing a beer and brewing a beard... At this point, it was all a blur since I was laughing so hard, I could hardly see --the tears were streaming down my face.

Thankfully, the road was straight and long and the car stayed on the road, despite by trying to jerk it around with my laughter.... And I shall find those weird signs that I am looking for... I shall!

The four year old's 40 minute "speech"

The four older children of our family are involved with a Youth Leadership Program : a public speaking club for children that Will and I co-lead. While Nathanael and Joanna were busy preparing their icebreaker speeches, Emily was listening intently. After all, what's so hard about talking about yourself? So, she proceeded to start her own speech. It went something like this.

Hi, I am four years old. My name is Emily Webber Joy. (Why she always gives her middle name after her last name is still a mystery to me..) And I like a lot of things.

I really like sharing, and I don't like people who do not share. (Wow, this must have really made an impression on her!)

My favorite class is art, and my favorite food is macaroni and cheese. And apples. I really like apples. And on and on she went. When someone tried to say something, she would insist, "but I'm not done yet!!" and just keep going.
I think her first audience lost interest because she came in and gave me the entire speech again, adding new details each time. It's amazing that a four year old has so many opinions, likes, dislikes, favorite colors, hobbies and everything.

Fast forward eight years.

At age 12, all of a sudden, it's impossible to come up with something to say outloud in front of a group. Our 12 year old was struggling to even fill three minutes worth of material about himself!! I am assuming that all of this frenetic speech preparation is what brought on Emily's great desire to copy their speeches and make one up for herself.

And he wasn't the only one struggling. All the kids in our youth leadership class are learning the nitty gritty of public speaking. And yet, it's nothing compared to what it would be like if adults were in there.

It seems like the older you are when you start, the harder it is. Maybe we should be like Emily--just go on and on about whatever, pretending we're sitting on our mother's lap and everything we have to say is just the most amazing, funny, and clever thing that's ever been said--and just get over the fear of it.

What's the worst that could happen? That we feel foolish? Oh, that's going to happen anyway. That we get some negative feedback? We could all use a little of that here and there. That we never get any better? That's not going to happen either. As soon as we try, we know the next time will be better. In fact, each time you speak publicly, it gets a little easier and better.

So, what would you say if you had to fill 3-5 minutes about yourself, in the form of a speech?

Would you relax and just let it flow? or would it be hard to figure out what to say?

Pioneer Days:making new friends

O.K. all you cute homeschooling families, start drooling. It's Pioneer Days here in Northern Illinois. All of these pioneer type of people (who live in normal houses during the rest of the year) gear up in 19th century pioneering wear and spend the weekend out in their homemade tents, living just like our early settlers did 200 years ago.

Apparently, life isn't hard enough for these folks, so they need to go all out and dress up in period outfits and cook with period foods in old fashioned ways. The good part is that they let us taste what they are making: like this homemade apple butter: yum! (beautiful color, too)

And the music is always a treat at these things. There's nothing like the hammer dulcimer! Love it. Yes, this was fun music!But this was especially nice for us. We have a friend, Sam, who lives in the end of the 18th century. Think George Washington. In fact, George happens to be one of Sam's friends.

Sam came here all the way from Virginia to scout out the land. Sam has made every inch of clothing he wears, and there's a story about everything he has or has on. He loves to tell stories of his exploits, his friends and music.

We were enrapt by his stories.
Here's Bear with him. Remember I told you about Bear? Bear doesn't see, but he enjoyed feeling all of the handmade bags, that were made waterproof with beeswax. He enjoyed feeling the homemade bullet maker, the allows you to melt down lead for pellets.
He showed us his small leather pouch that held a leather bound notebook with a "lead" in which to write.
It just so happens that Bear lives in the 17th century and prefers to speak in German. He spends most of his time with J.S. Bach and the Baroque artists.
Bear is quite the singer also and sang some hymns from the time period, while wearing the hat I made for him. He was not overly thrilled about the hat at first, but after everyone was complimenting him on it, he got used to it. I told Bear that everyone was going to be in costume, and he'd fit in better if he wore the hat. At first he was nervous that Sam might try to make him into a slave on his plantation, but Sam assured us that he pays his servants and does not own any slaves. They had so much to talk about that Bear asked if he could stay with Sam while we just looked at the other sites. Who knows what lands they conquered, songs they sung, or who they met on their "journey"... All I know is that the two of them hit it off famously.

And to think that Bear did not want to go to Pioneer Days. I told him that if he did not come with us, he was going to have to stay home and take a nap. He said, "Yes, Mrs. Webber" which is also what he said to me when he was being naughty and I scolded him a few times.

You see, Bear had a 5th grade teacher at his school for the Blind that was named "Mrs. Webber". Apparently, there is more than a name in common with this lady. Bear lived at the school full time, since his family left him there at a young age. He has no regrets; it seems. He loved his school and his teachers, even the ones that spanked him.

Now yesterday when they called on Bear to sing a solo at chapel yesterday, he said, "Mrs. Webber said I had to sing, and she even told me what I was singing. And you just don't cross her.." And everyone in the chapel started laughing.

So, he sang "Jehovah Tsidkenu" and we all loved it. Thanks Bear for coming and blessing us. And thank you Sam. I'm so glad you could take time out from your busy scouting schedule to bless us with your stories and friendship.

Makes me wonder why some of us are so set to live in this century?

The Kitchen, my pulpit..

I'm a knife wielding preacher; I bet you didn't know.

That's right. Over the roar of dishes clanking under the suds and the blur of vegetables chopping, the sermon gets preached to my big audience of who ever is sitting at my table at the time.

So, this week, a big, black, blind man who goes by "Bear" was in "pew" hearing me wax eloquently..

Bear got in the night before, and the next morning, after breakfast, everyone had something to do: Will was in his study prepping for tomorrow's sermon, Jamie was locked in his room taking a Physics test, and Jo, Hud and Than were at Saturday morning music classes.

Emily, Bear and I were in the kitchen. I was trying to scale Mt. Dish, and brown meat, pressure cook beans and reorganize what was left of the homemade donut fest from the night before. Normally, I would call this a blitz, but I don't like trample over guests in a frenzy.. the way I normally trample over my family.

So, Bear says, "I don't drink coffee... because I'm a member of unnamed religion.."

Now Bear was joking, I know. But this ensued a lively discussion about the lure of different religions.

Bear says, "They look and seem so happy. I wonder if they might be right. They say they have everything we have."

Me: "Well, maybe they are happy. Maybe they are even happier. Why does that matter?"

"Did you come to Jesus to be happy, Bear?"

"or to get saved from your sins?"

He didn't respond.

Many groups and religions claim happiness and even health and healing. It's not our job to try to unearth their unhappiness. Happiness may or may not be the outcome of those who follow Christ. I can see how we who live in the wealthier countries would confuse the issue. But something tells me that those who follow Jesus in other (persecuted) countries decided to not for the happiness and blessings it would produce on earth.

And then he said, "Some people don't even seem like they are sinners. They are sooo good."

My response: "It's not really our job to comb through people's lives, convincing ourselves that they are sinners. It's just our job to acknowledge the sin in our own lives. I know the Bible says that everyone is a sinner, except for Christ. So, I just believe it. As far as my sin, I know it's there, and I'm glad I have a Savior. There's no getting to heaven on my good works.."

All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.

When I'm in my kitchen pulpit, there's rarely even an open Bible. There are no well-thought out illustrations, and there's no altar call. There's no conclusion either. The sermon usually ends with, "Could you chop these for me?" or "The trash needs to go out" directed to someone else.

And no one comes up afterwards and says, "Good sermon, pastor" because I'm not a pastor. I'm a simple homemaker who wears a dorky apron. And yet, some of the most profound sermons are things that I've heard in other kitchen pews, told by apron-wearing preachers.

Sometimes I wonder if all of this preaching might be easier if I didn't have a wooden spoon in my hand at the same time, and have to shout over the rhythmic rocking of the pressure cooker, but this is God's will for my life right now. He's given me the abilities to multi-task, to blitz, and to have a "high brow thought" and such a willing audience, allured by the promise of food.

Perhaps the Lord and the saints that have gone before get a real charge out of this kind of scene in heaven. After all, it's far more entertaining than what you normally see on Sunday morning.

I can hear 'em now.. "Hey, you guys.. come see this. There's this fire-breathing preacher who shouts at people with a knife in hand.." And they all crowd around (in heavenly port-holes) and giggle.

It's this kind of nonsense that makes my home sing. Join us for Mom's the word.

The nitty gritty on the castles in France..

So, this should be the last post on France (maybe). O.K. give me a break. I don't get out much, and the glory of it needs to last beyond one week, don't you think? So, here we are in France. I'm going to give you a tour of our castles that I did not report on yet.

Welcome to the inside of the L'abbey de Fontenay. It was about an hour northeast of Dijon, France. The above link will give you more information than I can give you hear, but you may find it a bit sterile, compared to my antics. This is the oldest castle on our tour, apx. 1000 A.D.

The mechanical devices used for sharpening (above) and the forge (below) were some of Will's favorite things. The forge was a self-sustaining perpetual motion machine with the assistance of
several long poles connected to a huge
waterwheel on the outside. Great use of natural resources and mechanical genius!
When I shot a picture of the waterwheel, I wanted the back drop of those beautiful colored vines and the actual waterfall. Will's picture is above. Mine is below. Same scenery. Different views.

Instead of there being a huge building with fancy turrets adorning it, the abbey is more like a compound of buildings, each serving their specific purposes.

This tree impressed me. The only other tree that I've ever seen that is this old is the "Charter Oak" in Connecticut. Now, if I think about it, this tree is fairly young compared to the abbey. They have it dated for the year: 1726 (I think).

The inside of the abbey is fairly well preserved and lit by natural light.
This may have to be a painting or a quilt..

And this is the last picture from the Abbey. I love the gradient of colored leaves on the outside of the last building. The car in front tells the real story of why this particular site was a bit of a disappointment. It's not that the castle wasn't beautiful; it was. It's just that it has been taken over by private ownership. That day there was a very fancy (think Paris) wedding going on--complete with expensive cars, skinny women in high fashion couture, men in expensive suits and polished shoes. In a way, it was a taste of what people think of when they think of France. They are thinking of Paris, actually.

I was so intrigued by the beauty of the natural foliage, that I did not even notice all of this other stuff in my picture. What would you have noticed if you were there?

The next castle on the scene is my favorite castle: Chateau de Bussy Rabutin. It was also northeast of Dijon, in the general direction of the Abbey. All of these castles close at 6:00 p.m., so you can do both in one day, if you plan well.

I love this castle because it totally reminds me of what I think of when I think "castle" and it has not been overly commercialized. In fact, the funny thing about all of this "castle hunting"
is that these huge structures are literally "hidden" in plain view. As we were driving down dusty roads, following small (very small) signs to find what looks from the picture to be this ENORMOUS structure, and we drive right up to where the sign says to park, and I think "this is not it... there is no way that there's a castle here"
And so I surmised that we drove all this way, we might as well see whatever is here, even if it's not a huge castle. So, we come up to a gate that is locked because.. of course... we can not (no way jose') have the castle OPEN when it is LUNCHTIME! You uncultured, Americans!! You who wolf down a subway sandwich and call it "lunch"!! So, we were forced (for lack of a better word) to eat lunch because everyone else was doing it, and there was nothing else to do.
How much cheese can a couple eat anyway? So, they finally opened the gate and let the straggling tourists in (all ten? of us) and out pops this HUGE and I mean HUGE thing.
I still don't get it. They hide these things so well, that I'm not sure what makes them more impressive: the fact that they are completely hidden or that they really are that fabulous. Either way, there should be a lesson in there somewhere. If I were Mrs. P, I'd be making an analogy of modesty and keeping good things well hidden. But for now, I'll let the high brow philosophers pontificate on that subject.
As for me, all I can think of is that many paintings inside the rooms of this castle and how they showed the man who owned the castle (Rabutin) and his scandalous stories of women involved etc. Now, I'm not one to laugh at scandal, but I couldn't help think that all of the men had the exact same features of what I've seen King Louis IVX having, and all of the women looking exactly like Queen Elizabeth I. The paintings were extremely detailed in their ability to capture the fiber content of the dresses, and the flowing patterns of silk or velvet. All of the hairstyles were different, but the faces were the same across the board. Often some of the women had very broad shoulders and a stout man-like body, which lends me to believe that renaissance artists were short on female models in this castle.

When people visit museums and castles, I know they always feel obligated to say something snooty tooty and erudite. I always wish I could spout off facts about art history at this point, but no.. I had to let it go..

So, after gazing for a long time at this painting of a manly looking Queen Elizabeth I, I said, "It looks like she could bench press 200".. that caught the attention of an older English gentleman who laughed hysterically. He turned out to be a friend and our photographer for the rest of the tour.

The next castle was also "hidden in plain view". It was the Hotel Dieu or Hospices de Beaune. It was located in Beaune, about a half an hour south of Dijon. If you read this post, we saw this after we enjoyed all of the countryside of the Bourgonge (Burgundy) area.
The unique roofing tiles gives this its reputation. It was a hospital for the sick during the middle ages.
So, here ends the tour of our castle exploration in France.

My other posts about France:

Castles south of Dijon

The angel that helped me on the train/ traveling on a budget

my first day in France

about getting to France (the comments are worth reading on this post)

Thanks for coming along for the tour. I'm actually thinking about writing an organizing post. Don't be too shocked if it happens.

Skittles, sweetness, and sacrifice..

Our morning started rough. Our youngest, Emily, woke up on the wrong side of the bed and couldn't decide if she was hungry, tired or wanted to snuggle up with her teddybear for a few more hours.

There was nothing I could do. Tuesday morning is homeschool co-op. We have to be there at 9:00 a.m. I have four older children receiving serious instruction, and they are not happy if we are late. Their teachers are not fond of it either. So, we got Emily rolling along--breakfast in the car, toys in the bag, and an extra sweater because, "it's so cold, Mommy". I was already having hot flashes for the day, so I couldn't relate. But I bundled her up anyway.

So, we roll in three minutes late. Teenagers bolt out of the car in a dead sprint clutching backpacks, drawing boards, water bottles... and Emily and I let the dust settle, "Should we get to your first class, honey?" Call me lax, but I have no problem letting her take her time getting to her first class. It's a fabulous class, but it is designed for 2nd through 6th graders. Emily hasn't even started kindergarten, so I sit with her, helping her and explaining things as we go.

The class is a Bible class that was designed by the lady teaching it and her husband, a local pastor. It is fabulous instruction, great content, and well paced. It's just a little too advanced for her age. I plan to have her take it next year and maybe the year after, just for a good solid foundation of the concepts--not to mention a great review for me!

So, as we go along, I help her with the answers to the questions. I want to help her feel involved as well as motivated. For this class, the teacher brought treats (a bag of skittles) for each child who answered two right questions. All was great, except for the teacher's daughter, Stephanie. Poor Steph. She's too old to have her mother's help and too young to "get" everything. She ended up with no skittles and was a crying mess, bawling in her mother's arms as everyone was leaving.

Emily and I sat there, watching her cry. I knew what a hard morning Emily had already had, and I was tempted to just let the mother and child work this out, but instead I said, "what do you think Jesus would want us to do with our skittles?" Emily said, "Eat them later, after lunch"

Yeah. O.K.

"So, did you know that mommy helped you answer all of those questions, and that is why you have the skittles.. what about sharing with Stephanie?"

"I'd like to eat them later.."

"Why not share them with Stephanie, now?"

(bury head in sweater.. and then looks away.. and then throws them at me)

It's the best she could do. So, we went over to Stephanie and her Mommy and opened the bag. We divided them in half with one left over. We gave the teacher the extra one. Suddenly, the room got brighter. The candy tasted better, and life was in perspective.

I witnessed a grumpy, selfish little girl turn sweet with a little skittle sacrifice. What a happy day she had after that! Even at 6:00 p.m. when we were still there, she was happy and content.

Even though she is too young to know the Lord Jesus personally, she is starting to understand some things. That is an encouragement to me!

I was there: get moving America

America on the move week started today, and all of the YMCA of Rock River Valley employees were encouraged to come out and join with the Park District for a fitness challenge. Even though, you don't see the organizing mommy in any of these videos, I really was there.

The goal is to have the employees of these two fitness/health related industries challenge each other in personal fitness goals. I was kind of excited about this, since I like challenges.

What I didn't realize was that our supervisors were going to dress up and dance for us. Our long time fitness guru, Lynne, was leading a pack of "Village people" er.. YMCA employees in the singing and dancing of the YMCA theme song. Our maintenance director was a big Indian chief, our bouncer/ security guy was a sailor in a tight T-shirt. We also had a biker dude, a cowboy, and some other villagers. Lynne was a cop, complete with a holster and a plastic orange pistol.

I wasn't sure whether or not to sing, dance, laugh or cry. It was all so hilarious. Of course, our maintenance guys had to learn to dance for the show. Lynne has a long-standing aerobics instructor career before she became administrative in her duties. So these poor guys had to scoop hop, scoop hop, doubles... along with hip gyrations.... Like I said, it was worth the price of admission.. which was free, of course.

At this point, I do not have a copy of the dance, or I'd post it. It was American Idol worthy, trust me. If you've ever been to a crazy wedding in the U.S., you know what song I'm talking about.

So, I logged one hour of exercise today. I'm not sure if that includes scoop hopping or not?? Either way, I hope your feet will find the insides of your tennis shoes and walk a little bit more this week. Let's get moving, America!

Trip to France on a budget: my personal train angel

It's about perspective I guess. When people thinking of traveling, all they can think about is high class travel with luxurious accommodations.

If you think about it, average one-income families like us should not ever travel, if going expensively is the only option. So, I've been thinking about this. I realize not everyone has a husband whose main job is overseas customers, so I'm going to explore options beyond my present circumstances.

The most expensive thing about traveling is usually getting there. Even though Will was there on business and I went on miles, there are other ways to get places cheaply. My hairdresser loves to go to Europe every year. She waits for the rates to go down, locks in by buying her tickets around that schedule. She always travels on the off season, and she only goes to the country that she can get the best rate. We have other friends who purchase everything on a credit card that gives miles for rewards. You have to be the kind of person who can handle credit cards (not many are) and be committed to paying everything off in order to get the miles with a clear conscience.
We were, by far, the youngest "tourists" of the people we met. It seems that most people wait until retirement to travel, but retirement may not ever happen for this family. My motto is: strike while the iron is hot! and go when you have the opportunity..
It takes a slightly adventurous spirit to travel also, especially if everything isn't all laid out for you like the expensive tours do. I found myself really relying on the Lord for a lot of things. I'm not saying that you shouldn't plan, but even with the best plans in the world, things can go awry.

I'm thinking about my trip home. I think I told you that I was traveling alone because my husband was already there and planned to stay a week later to do work. So, the trip on the plan is fairly straightforward. You know, you go through the checkout, passport, take the shoes off routine, and get on the plane. Ride for 7--9 hours and land in Paris. It's when you land that there's some unknowns. From Paris, I had to take the train to Dijon, and then the taxi to the hotel.

Well, on the way home, Will drove me to the train station and I was planning to take the 6:20 train to Paris. Because it was so early, I was not able to buy the ticket at the counter and U.S. credit cards do not work in their machines, so I was hoping the credit card would work on the train once I did get on.

As soon as we started to get me to the train, things were not looking good. Not only could we not get a ticket but all of the second class tickets were taken! I would have to go first class, which is not what I wanted to do @ 75 E (about $100.00). I felt peaceful though. I also realized that this train would not take me straight the the airport and I'd have to fumble around in Paris trying to switch trains getting to the airport. And to make matters worse, (I probably shouldn't say this) we bottomed out our account the day prior. So, it was a scramble to get funds transferred into the account just to survive until payday (which thankfully was only a day away).. so you can see, we were at the Lord's mercy here.

So, I recounted all of these things in my mind, as I waited for the train. Will was still with me, and we were asking (In English) if this was the right train to get on.

Out of nowhere, a middle aged man, dressed in a suit with a briefcase appeared speaking perfect English and asked if he could help. I told him that I needed to get to the airport (Charles de Galle). He said that this other train was going to the airport on it's way to Lille. I wasn't sure to believe him because it doesn't say it's going to the airport. He told me that it makes stops along the way, so I'd have to watch for my stop. I asked him if he was going that way too, and he said, "yes". I said, "Oh great. I will follow you, then" He told me to stand "right here" and then I did. All of a sudden, the other train pulled up (the one I was originally going to get on) and he jumped on it and left. Will and I watched him go, and there was a tug to follow him, but I just stood right where he told me to.

And then I had this thought, "there goes the angel the Lord sent"... and we were not meant to be escorted by him--just follow his directions. I told Will to go home and go back to bed, and I was perfectly at peace about everything. So, he left, and I got on the other train. The second class coach was available. There were funds in the account, and all was smooth sailing from then on.

When you have the Lord, crises turn into victories. It's all about perspective, isn't it? When we were sightseeing, these flowers in front of a church caught my eye. It cost us nothing to enjoy them, and they were just as beautiful as any man-made structure we visited.
It's also about who you are with. In my case, I have been blessed with a husband, who for the most part, can not stand sightseeing. He does this purely because he knows that I like it. It's taken many years to get to that point. So, what's more precious.. having a beautiful place to visit? or having someone who is willing to go and spend time with you, even if the place isn't so scenic?
Of course, I am not one to complain if the two work themselves out together.

For me, this makes me and my home sing: the spirit of contentment mixed with adventure and acceptance. For more singing homes: Moms the Word.

Castles south of Dijon

O.K. We're back talking about our trip to France again. So, on our first day of sightseeing, we set out in a rented car and headed toward Beaune, pronounced "bone". Why the French have to use so many vowels in their language is beyond me...

So, we head out in the general direction, and we come across this lovely castle. Yes, it is lovely. Surely they would want us to see it up close, don't you think?

But alas, it was not to be. You see, this is not a castle really; it is a... school!
I'm not kidding. It is a school. So, peering in at it through the gates is as close as we got to it. It would give a whole new meaning to public education, if my children went to the castle-school each day.

So, we kept driving along in the Burgundy countryside. We were able to finally get to another castle that was still operating at a vineyard/ winemaking establishment. I love the neat, short rows of grapevines.
This large stone wall separated the vineyard from the castle entrance.
And I have no record of the name of this castle. All I know is that if you are heading from Dijon to Beane, you'll find a converted monastery that looks like this. We're in that picture down there...
It seems like the monks were the first in this area to see the importance of cultivating grapevines for their wine. They became the first businessmen of the wine industry. And combining their religious power along with economic prosperity made them quite a powerful group during this time.

Will was particularly fascinated by the wooden style wine press that managed to crush 2 tons of grapes all with mechanical power alone. These people were extremely smart about engineering and design.

It took four men to turn the crank and lower the press, while four others added and subtracted wooden levers into the press to make sure the operation was level. It is a skill that you would have to learn by experiencing, rather than going to school for it. In fact, there's no reason, in my mind, that they could not continue to do it in the same manner today, except that this type of tradition would be very dependent on an experienced worker overseeing the entire production and training others to do the same. In other words, "a lost art".

All of these castles had a courtyard with a decorative garden and statues. This statue symbolizes the man who carries the grapes to the press in a basket, usually weighing 80 pounds each.

All of the castles we visited had a place of worship also.

Inside the courtyard, looking at the various "rooms" of the castle.

The original well that provided all of the water for the many who worked at the castle.

I think there should be horses and chariots, not cars surrounding the entrance.

Here they are: real grapevines ready to be picked. I was wondering this: Why are these beautiful grapes just sitting here? Why are they not being picked?

And then, as soon after I had that thought, I saw teams of workers out in the field picking the grapes, by hand, no less. They were dressed in plain clothes and appeared to be friends and family of the vineyard owners rather than hired workers. Apparently, these grapes are too precious to just let "anyone" touch them.

To think that these vines and this building have been here since the middle ages is boggling to me. It was absolutely beautiful.

If you are planning a trip to Dijon, I found this neat site:

History/hotels and eating out information about Dijon by hubpages.