Rural Life

The end of an era

It is with regret that I announce the death of our neighbour for more than 20 years, Monsieur François Salmon.  He died early on Monday morning (17th April) in palliative care at a local hospital, riddled with cancer and aged perhaps 57 years old.

He bore a startling resemblance to Henri IV, King of Navarre and France, who had a legendary number of illegitimate children, so who knows, perhaps François had royal blood in him.

[Thanks to Getty Images for this stock portrait of the King.]

His family were allegedly quite posh, although we have little evidence of that, other than when sober and able to hear, François was quite erudite and could read English.  He was also very fond of The Pogues and Bob Dylan.  He was however an alcoholic and had had a hard life.  While off on one of his alcoholic sprees, his wife and two children were murdered viciously, and he only found the bodies when he returned after a week on the lash.  The case was quite famous, and was referred to for a while as the French Ripper, but Google that now and you won't find it, you will find a load of publicity for a book about a French murderer at the turn of the 19th century, by an American.

In François's many court cases, generally for being drunk in charge of something, this appalling tragedy was used as an excuse for his affinity for the bottle, until his father stood up in one court session and said that his son had been an alcoholic from age 12 and no excuses should be made for his behaviour.  Like I say, I'm not so sure about the "poshness" of his family!

I can't speak about his wife, we knew him after the event, but over the past 20 years, he had the most appalling taste in women, and the two or three girlfriends that hooked on to him as a source of drink, soft drugs and comfort were all unspeakable.  Some of his friends are pretty suspect too, although he had a very strong and mostly very good influence on them, and was a leader in that milieu.  He had strict moral views on some subjects, most importantly that you never (proverbially) shit on your own front doorstep.  Well unless you are so blasted that you don't know where home is, of course...  We were protected by being his good neighbours from the majority of minor delinquency that goes on in a rural area.  Now we will have to watch ourselves and our chickens much more closely.

He was an amazing gardener who could get anything to grow, when he concentrated on it.  His attention did wander, and he spent time in prison, at which point things would wither away.  His prison stints helped his body to recover from his destructive life style, but once he was out, there was little support and he normally fell back into old habits. 

During the second Covid lockdown he was hospitalised for something akin to double pneumonia, and his house mate was called to say a final goodbye, so we were all astounded to see François home 10 days later!!  He'd had the fear of death pushed into him and he found the will to live and to stop drinking and really reduce his smoking.  He even bought a "sans permis" van and drove the other drunks around until they too got on the waggon. 

He had a succession of cats that he cared for well, particularly when sober, but also remembered when under the influence.  When he came into a bit of money, one of his first acts was to get his current cat spayed, rather than rely on the "pill", as he couldn't bear coping with kittens that he couldn't afford to keep and no one would take.  

Farewell, François.  You could be hugely irritating, but you were a character, you were harmless, you were a gentleman and a gentle man.  I'm sure you had royal blood in you really!

 

That was the weird week that was

Last week's blog was published a bit earlier than normal, as we had been invited to a semi-private Easter Sunday gig.  Being British, we naturally arrived well too early, but did get a reasonably sensible parking space (not that I was driving) at what in daylight seemed to be a ruined and deserted farmstead.  But as night and the fairy lights took over, it turned into something that 15 to 25 year old me would have been utterly delighted by - a rock/indie rave complete with party barn and stage, oil drum fires and people who are not normally seen in daylight appearing from an eclectic mix of vehicles.  Being in rural France, the music started nearly an hour later than advertised, and the first act was Gertrude, a burlesque accordion artist, with a fine line in animal noises...  She performed for an hour.  Second up was the reason we were there - Bourbon, a Rory Gallagher tribute band, and while we aren't into Rory ourselves, we have a chum who is and leads the band.  But as we are no longer 25 years old, the fascination with semi-pro rural music faded, so we didn't make it through to the final act, Punkabilly band D-Track, which was a shame in some ways, as they play very jolly, infectious music. 

So that was Sunday.  Wednesday is always market day at la Flèche for me, but I don't expect to see trams passing the market.  I'm not sure where this one was heading to, but it certainly mucked up the traffic for a while in town!

I also did time this week finding hidden water cylinders and photographing their detail plates - two houses, two instances of the hot water cylinder being hidden and essentially blocked away for all identification and maintenance purposes!  How mad is that!  We are on our third hot water cylinder since buying our house, as with extremely hard water, they only seem to last about 10 years.

I'm not sharing photos of that sort of malarkey.

During the week, the fish in the lower pond seemed quite distressed - the water level is getting worrying in that pond.  Of course another reason for it seeming to be quite active, is that it is not the solitary specimen I thought it was - I counted at least four.  It was therefore something of a relief on Saturday that the level of water in the pond had risen and the fish were not to be seen.

Then yesterday was Vide Grenier at Echimiré day - very similar to a car boot, in that as a seller, you arrive very early and have to spend ages swatting people off, before you can get a display you are happy with.  For the organisers, they make their money on selling a variety of liquid and solid refreshments, so the early morning coffee was very welcome as was a glass of rosé wine and a punnet of chips at lunchtime.  For us, the aim is to reclaim space, so we were happy to see large items go, and only really dug our heels in on dropping prices when someone was pratting, around making out he couldn't understand my French.  As the lady on the next plot said to him, "she will start increasing the price if you carry on being rude - your wife understands very well!"  Anyway, we do another one in a few weeks and that is our lot for the year.  

Now we come to a question of time.  If I have time, I will prepare a couple of blogs to be published the next two Sundays, as I am away to the UK and won't have the technology to post anything.  Apologies if I don't get round to it however as all sorts of "stuff" seems to be cropping up this week.

 

 

 

 

 

All sorts of races

This week the inaugural edition of the Tour du Pays de la Loire was run, and Day 3 of the race started at Baugé en Anjou.  While it was a professional race, the teams were limited to 6 riders each, and the top names were saving themselves for this weekend's Paris-Roubaix, although I am sure many would give up the threat of the cobbles in the latter race for the joys of Anjou!  There was the usual Village Depart in town, but as parking would have been vile, I had just got my new orthopaedic insoles, and the Depart Fictif was coming through the village, we decided to watch it go through just up the road.  By quarter to midday, a small crowd of villagers had gathered in the Place d'Eglise to see it go past.  With the Tour de France, you get the media helicopters and a publicity caravan dishing out goodies.  With the Tour du Pays de la Loire, you get more official Tour motorbikes than seems feasible, plus loads of police outriders, until the actual competitors arrive.  Then after they go through, you have at least one car per team, plus ambulance, doctor, red lantern van (picks up stragglers) and a final van for anything that looks dodgy.  Here are the riders arriving in the village up the big hill (something to warm up the leg muscles).

We are in a race against time and the elements to get the potato bed ready for planting.  In theory the spuds go in on Good Friday, but weather and other people's lawns have made it difficult to get going on this.  Still yesterday John managed to get perhaps half the bed, or at least enough for 2 to 3 rows of potatoes to be planted if there is nothing else to do!

The trail camera is in the Garden at the moment.  In theory it was placed to see what is coming through the fence, prior to blocking off the hole, but we don't have any evidence of that.  We have plenty of wood pecker action (due a blog of its own), and have many fine shots of the massive rat that has a burrow in the garden.  We have also occasional shots of these two racing around - they never stay close to the camera for video footage, just stills.  I am pretty sure they are not rats (the tail is wrong where it exists), but otherwise I am not too sure.  It could be the pine martins that seem to live mainly over in the meadow, not least as one of those is minus a tail now, but I'm not totally convinced.

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Flowers and blossom have been a bit delayed this year compared to the last few, so the tulips are racing away to flower before it gets too hot.  The red ones are in their second year in a pot by the Shack kitchen, while the yellow ones (which were brought as white) were planted three years ago on the edge of one of the cultivated squares.  The square has moved it would seem as they are a way off it now!

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Of course not everything is rushing around (thankfully), and this week we have been able to taste the fruits of our labours in the form of harvesting 2 of our 6 cauliflowers.  These aren't the easiest vegetable to grow and are in the ground for ages - over 7 months in this case.  I think the only thing I can say about our success is that the wretched plants seem to favour being planted in near solid clay.  Anyway, here is a portrait of the one we are eating at the moment (half roasted yesterday, the rest raw today).

The Easter weekend is proving to be beautifully sunny and warm - well, at least until late tonight or early tomorrow when rain comes in.  We laboured long and hard in the potager yesterday, what with rotavating, planting onions, and clearing soil to sow mangetout peas, so we were both entitled to hammock time.  It was lovely lying there, looking up at the tiny new birch leaves opening above us.

Next Sunday we are selling "stuff" at a vide grenier, so the blog won't be written until the following day - it's not like the UK where a car boot is over by midday.  Here you set up at about 7:30am, and don't get to dismantle and go until gone 5:30pm, but which time I won't want to communicate with anything!!

 

Starting the gardening season

I don't know why, but we haven't really been inspired to get this year's gardening underway so far.  We have planted shallots and onions, which are now sprouting, and of course in the last weeks of 2022 we sowed our broad beans, but other than that we've not done much.

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Over winter, we have been able to enjoy fresh parsley, parsnips, chard, leeks and the stored potatoes (now all gone), but yesterday we had a few spears of feral asparagus which acted as a reminder that if we want to feed ourselves, we need to get ourselves into gear!  After all, we do have 53 seed potatoes chitting away, which will need to be planted soon.

The chard will keep going for a while and there is a hint of cauliflower on the six plants that are still also providing ample food for caterpillars.  There is also corn salad hiding away among the weeds that have grown back, which I hope to rescue soon.

The state of the rhubarb reminds us that we need to care for the soil, adding organic matter back where we can, while at the same time continuing to fight the good fight against the rampant scrub that wants to reclaim the gardens.  These tulips were planted in a vegetable bed only 3 years ago, but are now fighting their way out of a bramble patch.

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Those plants that fight on through the weeds and scrub come out stronger - this calendular made it through the winter and is now developing many more flower buds for more blazing orange.

One reason for our lassitude to date is that for once things are a bit delayed in nature.  The daffodils would have been finished by now last year and the year before, while the cowslips are just going from strength to strength.  But blossom is late - the countryside is white with wild plum and blackthorn much later than normal, while the pear may not be in full bloom for Easter, as it usually would be (irrespective of date, as Easter is determined by moon phases).  There is a slow green veil taking over but that has been apparent in late March for the last few years, not early April.

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The birds are out in force, but there were few insects around, despite the blossom and the highly pungent laurel flowers.  The hornet trap is set at The Shack but not at home, but there is no sign of any interest in it so far.  There are a few heavy bumblebees around, but without insects, there will not be much fruit, so I hope they appear soon.

The extremely clear sign of a late spring was at the One Acre Wood however.  For the past few years, by the start of April, the lily of the valley would be perhaps an inch or two tall and showing whether there would be any flowers to come.  We walked through the spot today, and could see nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  They will sprout in due course, but they confirm we are right not to be plunging into too much gardening activity before Nature is ready to give us a helping hand.

Many the Easter Bunny bring you more chocolate than you can eat in one sitting!