lollardfish

On August 11, 2006, Shannon and I both woke up around 5:00 A.M., tossed and turned for awhile, then got up. By 6:30, we were dressed and out the door and walking into Azay-le-rideau, the town in which we are staying.

Azay-le-rideau is on the Indre, one of the tributaries to the Loire. It's noted for having a particularly spectacular 17th-century (I think) Chateau, with lots of pointy towers, positioned above an inlet so that the whole thing reflects. We wouldn't know, though, as we haven't been yet. Tuesday. Or maybe tomorrow morning.

Much to my surprise, nothing is open in Azay until 7:00, and walking into town only took five minutes. But it so happens that the girl and I are perfectly content to stroll through a sleepy picturesque French town watching dawn claw its way through the gray-light. I also had a plan. The plan took us down through the cobbled-streets to the bridge over the Indre. I could see something park-like with pretty bridges over a stream to the left, and thought that would be a splendid place for my plan to unfold. Unfortunately, that's the estate of the chateau, is walled off, and the wall goes on for a long, long, way. We turned around after only a little while of this (having figured it out), and headed back towards town. On our left was a big open space, white-pink stone on the ground, and huge "plane" trees (long trunks, peeling bark, lots of leaf-cover) positioned to provide a canopy. It's a triangle of land jutting between two strands of the river, with a little walking bridge at the tip where it leads back to town. To one side the river ran swiftly, to the other it split yet again around a tiny island where the ducks congregated. Before the bridge, there are two big stone barriers, or benches, as we thought. We sat.

The church bell rang (we had seen the priest pull into his car and head into the church just a few minutes before) - 7:00. As if on cue, dawn claimed the last of the grey and gently goaded the sky into a light blue, and a few thousand birds started to sing. I took Shannon's hand, and told her how happy I was with her, and with us, and that I had something for her. I took a velvet box out of my pocket, opened it, and displayed a diamond ring. She squealed and said something like, "really?" I asked her to marry me. She went a little incoherant for a moment, took the ring, stayed incoherant while glowing, then paused to say, "Yes."

And that's really all you need to know about the next twenty minutes.

Day came rushing on, the birds stayed happy, and a Frenchman bicycled through on his way to fetch his dog (which shortly he walked back the other way, by us). We found our way to the best boulangerie, ordered pain chocolat and cafe au lait (as well as croissants for B. and K. back at the house), and sat there and chattered cheerfully about plans. We shared some non-binding thoughts about weddings, and have no firm plans as yet as to timing, location, or anything else useful.

After we came home and told B and K (the latter responded with considerable boisterousness), I eventually took a nap. I've been a bit sick, and apparantly proposing takes a lot out of one. B. worked (he writes about security, and has been a bit busy. You've probably heard him on NPR, MPR, CNN, CBC, MSNBC, and so forth). The ladies went to see gardens at a chateau, and to meet some goats (they make cheese. We like goats). We picnicked on a little island by a mill, had a toast to, well, us, and then went to Saumur. There, we saw another lovely Chateau (though the inside was closed for remodelling), walked around the old town, bought some wine, an adorable sweater for K's grandson, cheese, and went to see a HUGE dolmen (neolithic) in the garden of a bar. Then dinner in a cave. But more about that and today's festivities later.

So for the inquiring: I bought the ring on the Wednesday before we left (6 days before), picked it up on Friday, and had it sized almost perfectly (it fits on her ring finger, but need to be a half-size bigger). I had no particular plan about when I'd propose, but had no doubts that at some point in France or Italy we would be alone, be feeling romantic, and then all I'd need was the ring in my pocket. I did not want to propose in front of people, and thought it was entirely likely that I wouldn't propose until we were in Italy. Had the big open area between the rivers not be there, we probably wouldn't be engaged yet! But it was there (they use it for events), and I had put the ring in my pocket before leaving just in case it seemed right. It's very right.