Finally it is Christmas Eve. The winter solstice passed in murky conditions on Friday, but the day before I found a lovely big clump of mistletoe in one of the apple trees - something just right for the Solstice and for Christmas as a pagan symbol of renewal and mystery, and a thing to be avoided in UK pubs over Christmas due to all the kissing.
On Friday night we had our quiet drink in the pub for the end of the week - actually it was heaving, which is a good sign. We recognised a couple of people, but not many - also a good thing, as the new landlord will need to bring in customers to make it work, and many of those we know in the area are old or work very hard during the week and don't have much money to splash. Long may it continue (fingers crossed).
Much of the week has been dull and murky, but Wednesday was nice, as is today. I took advantage on Wednesday and had a wander around the lanes of Baugé, admiring old cottages, weird walls, a plaque showing where the Huguenot temple had been in the period between 1625 or so and 1685, when being protestant became illegal again. That was the moment many refugees headed for east London, to set up their silk weaving businesses in the Spitalfields area. Anyway, the plaque is pretty well illegible, but the Tribunal is clear of scaffolding this Christmas, so there is a photo of that instead.
On Thursday we dug up the first of the frosted parsnips, to give away for Christmas dinner - we will dig ours up tomorrow, so they are as fresh as possible. The tops have looked very good all year, so we were excited as to what we would find. The first one was big, but there was a small top near it, which I dug up as well and was pleased that it was also a good looking specimen. I had to cut the bottoms of the roots off, but they were pleasingly long, given our clay base for the soil.
Before today I have marzipaned the cake, the pudding is made, the foie gras is cooked, the shopping is done, and all that remains for tomorrow is a ritual offering to the Oak Tree, digging up carrots and parsnips for us and cooking the festive bird (a locally raised duck). That meant that this morning we were entitled to play, particularly as there was a bit of wind. We dug out the cheap kite we bought four years ago, clipped the crossbar back in and spent a happy half hour flying it in the Meadow, while not falling down the badger's set entrance. Mr Banks got it right, we reckon!
So, may your kite fly high and not get caught in trees, may your gravy be without lumps and your Christmas pudding ignite with the first match. Have a wonderful Christmas!
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