The SnippEthel

Last Tuesday was a bank holiday in France.
August 15 is off for all the French to celebrate Mary's assumption to heaven, although I very much doubt many people bear a thought for poor Mary, that is, of course, if they even know this day is dedicated to her.
This is also usually a "dead week" in France with most people on holiday and many companies and factories closed.
August 15 was a family day for me. My brothers and I came back home for a family lunch followed by a walk in the mountains (and a wild blueberry feast!).
This kind of reunion is usually a good occasion to grab some of the rare anecdotes my parents like to keep secret from their past. With the help of champagne and wine, my mother became more and more talkative as the meal progressed, to our greatest pleasure.
My dad grew up five minutes from where my parents live now, surrounded by his five sisters and four brothers while my mum was growing up in another farm, forty minutes away, surrounded by her seven brothers and four sisters (that's when the authorities realize how important it was to develop contraception).
While dating, we learnt my mum sent a bunch of herbs (??) to my dad. To our total bewilderment, my parents came to explain that in return, my dad, with the help of his own father, sent in reply a box with rabbit's poo balls and a dead rabbit's head!!
They couldn't quite remember the hows and whys of the event, but were both confident it all made sense at the time.
At this point, we came to realize my parents were serious weirdoes, but we kind of knew that already, and that partly explains why my brothers and I are such weirdoes too, which is reassuring in some way, because we now know we can have fun and succeed in our lives with that handicap, just like my parents did.