A Day With Marie by Maggie Scratch

This is what happens when you spend the day with Marie.

She makes things come alive.

And then she takes you for a drive.

Rain, snow, hail around us.

Marie turns on the radio.

Debussy sounds like Erik Satie.



We talk of love.

“Love and Peace,” she says.

We arrive at our destination.

La vieille jument is waiting for us.

The old brown mare.

We have brought her favorites, carrots, and a bag of dry bread.

Marie stands under an umbrella, I have worn my hat.

She wants to take my picture, feeding the old brown mare.

When all the bread is gone

and the mountain hail is strong

we climb back in the car.

Marie rolls down the window and pulls up to speak to the horse.

Hail stones fly into the car, everything is wet.

We’re not cold, we’re happy, but when I mention it,

what does Marie have to say?

“No problem! It will dry!”


TalkingLaughingMarie and Me


Feeling at Home by Maggie Scratch





Merci beaucoup a Rocio, grandmother, Nais, daughter and Kiliana granddaughter

It isn’t every day that people take me into their home, but when they take me into their hearts, that’s feeling at home.

Feeling wanted, feeling loved, feeling like I belong.

I’ve been a foreigner half my life, I’ve learned to live outside the klan, to find my own tribe’s drum.

But what—here I am!

Here I go?



Couldn’t deny the opportunity to live in a new country.


People are people all over the world.

It’s the heart that counts.

Like Keb Mo says,

“It’s becoming clear I can feel it down in my soul.

I know that I am you and you are me.”

I like this way to live.

It’s a good way to be.



“Ringing Out Love” by Maggie Scratch

It’s Easter time again. Sure comes around fast, doesn’t it? Where were you last time this year? I wasn’t here in Saint-Alban. I never would have imagined last year I would be where I am now. It never entered my head. How would I know I would be in these farmlands with pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago? Pay attention I tell myself now. Pay attention to your life as it is. The secrets are there in the obvious. Who knows where you will be in one year? Surrounded by love hopefully!


Peace by Maggie Scratch

I’m in a sleepy old town in La Lozère region of France. Saint-Alban-sur-Limagnole. I arrived like a can of coca cola. It’s not easy to get the city-fizz out of my brains, it’s been running through my veins for thirty-two years. I tried to post my road movies leaving Barcelona, but from sleepy little Saint-Alban my videos don’t go through.

I’m surrounded by green.

I have time.

I go for walks.  I spend hours alone.

I live simply, in silence, I can write.  I can think!

“Thinking is a luxury!” A philosopher once told me.chemin-de-st-jaques