Rural Life

Day 4 of Lockdown - strange sounds

I think I am over the phase of when I sit in a draught and feel chilly, wondering if I am coming down with the dreaded virus!  Now I need to get over the angst of checking and rechecking my relevant attestation before driving out of the courtyard, although making sure I have the right thing is still important.

Today's quick foray out of the house was again work related, checking up on the cats of a departed Brit.  There are four of them but only 3 turned up for their share of a tin of cheap and sloppy cat food.  The noise of slurping cats...

Anyway, once they had licked all the bowls clean, I walked down their garden and sat in the sun, admiring yet another Brimstone butterfly as well as a small orange tip.  There were also jays, pigeons, bees of all sorts, wild flowers and broad beans to admire as much as I could while being sat on by one large cat, and having another treat my foot as a dead rabbit.

And a really strange sound.  The quiet popping of pine cones as the sun gets to them, and they release their seeds which then fall to the ground.  Except that in the quiet of the country, and with no background traffic or plane noise, it sounded very loud indeed!

The cats guard our Guadeloupe sprouted avocado seed, which is now starting to look like a serious tree with a branch!  Sadly I fear it will never have fruit, but it is a fun thing to have.

There are rumours of more drastic measures of confinement here, as Parisians in particular explore ways to flout isolation.  That is the real fear for us.  At the moment, as we are pretty antisocial and also pretty well stocked, we are OK in our isolation, but further restrictions would weigh on our mental state, as we worry about the work we can't do, and the wellbeing of these cats.  

Stay away from other people is I think the key message at the moment.

Day 3 of Lockdown - permitted working

Important things first - Zola is being completely vile about taking her medicine, but I'm not sure we expected any better from her.

The weather today is fabulous, and you can actually hear the grass growing.  John did me an attestation for going to do one lawn, while he did another for himself to go and deal with 3 separate gardens.  He's not home yet, so I don't know how many fines he has clocked up, or if he has had to show his attestation at all.  I didn't, when I snuck out to do my lawn.

As you can see, I suffered in my isolation.  I had discussions with a couple of mallards, a very cheeky robin, a couple of Brimstone butterflies, and annoyed a couple of amourous frogs (but not for long).  Of course, it will all need doing again next week.

Home, and I thought I would check up on our lazy Victoria Plum tree - signs of 10 flowers, which is not really good enough.  Having said that, last summer was diabolical for an English plum tree here in France, so I shouldn't be too harsh.

The roads are quiet, people are doing some gardening when they can, but it is very strange.  It is also rather loud as the bird life is in full rut and is enjoying not having all that competition from cars and lorries and motorbikes.  Nature will take back the world, while we are confined - perhaps that was Her plan all along?

Stop Press - John is home with no fines paid.

Day 2 of Lockdown - and three attestations used!

I totally failed to mention yesterday's highlight - a drive by flowering!  A local flower producer and vendor dropped off flowers with her relatives and chums so that they didn't end up on the compost heap while still totally beautiful.  It was all done within the rules of social distancing, but what a lovely idea!  A lovely way to brighten a pretty grim day.

Today we braved the police with our attestation and decided to check that we could indeed use the local farmers market at la Flèche - we stick to our principles of supporting small and local business where possible.  I'm not sure we were supposed to go together, but other than that, it was good to go.  Benoit, producer of raw butter and raw milk that has a good two inches of cream on the top was there with our usual order, so we exchanged milk bottles and agreed to meet next week.  Jean-Marc the cheese man provided us with 5 excellent cheeses and we panic bought fresh Italian pasta.  The fishmonger had John Dorey and with few people there, I wasn't ashamed to ask him to fillet it.

This afternoon John worked - again armed with the famous attestation - but while it is a magnificent sunny day here and warm, the ground has yet to give up the ridiculous amount of rain we have had this month, so he wasn't out that long.

Zola the kitten-style cat has been having "difficulties", so I ended up with a third attestation as I whisked her off to the vet on a medical emergency.  No constipation, no excess liquid in her bladder indicating crystals, but a temperature and a diagnosis of cystitis - no cranberry juice for her, but anti-inflammatories, antibiotics and special food (cranberry juice would be a whole lot cheaper). 

So not really a total lock down day, but a weird one when we did sneak out (armed with our relevant attestations of course).

 

 

Day One of Lockdown - today's word is procrastination

As the church bell tolled midday, that was it - lockdown!

That was the moment that I started to yearn to pop out for new socks and to walk down to the lake to see if there were any herons about - no chance!

A friend has pointed out that it is either the opportunity for really getting to grips with things I've wanted to do for ages, or for monumental procrastination.  As I've actually got a report to do for work and a couple of tenders to respond to, I'm hoping that procrastination doesn't grab me.  But then again I have decided to revive this blog, which is in itself a form of procrastination I guess.

The cats know something is up.  One is whiney.  One has just trashed all the settings on John's computer.  One has decided that she might be constipated, or she might have a bladder infection, or she might just freak us out.

The chickens are not so fussed, but are intrigued by the fact that John has been working in our garden (fighting against procrastination) and has a fire going in an oil barrel.  Hopefully they won't try to barbeque themselves.

Rumour has it that there are two cases in the village, one of whom is in hospital - we are thinking of them.

Tomorrow I need to go out armed with an attestation - the cats in the country will need food - that is what will keep me awake tonight.

 

Another new critter in the zone - cynips!

Today's Courrier de l'Ouest had as its main story dire warnings about a new critter, not native to Europe that is decimating sweet chestnut plantations in France.  Big news guys - the wee varmint has been here for a year or two, and specifically in the One Acre Wood.

Last spring we spotted galls on some of the low branches of some of the young sweet chestnut stems, and wondered what it was about.  Now we know - Cynips de Chataignier - or Dryocosmus Kuriphilus - or Chestnut Gall Wasp.

Self-fertile (nasty) wasps lay eggs in next year's leaf buds in the summer.  The following spring, the eggs hatch in the bud and create a gall in which they live and feed and grow.  They hatch out in late spring/early summer and fly around laying more eggs.  The effect on sweet chestnut trees is to reduce fruiting drastically - by up to 70% some claim - as well as sapping the strength of the branch their gall is on, and in the long term, reducing the strength of the tree.

It is a notifiable pest, so that is today's job, finding and reporting it to the relevant authority and waiting to hear what happens next. 

If you spot galls on sweet chestnut trees, check them against this website/document and then contact your local authority with responsibility for control of foreign pests.

Afraid of 13?

Today is Friday the Thirteenth - a day when many try to spend the day in bed in case of bad things happening.

In France they are a bit schizophrenic about the number 13, so there is always a special massive jackpot on the lottery, they do not fear having 13 people sit down to dinner and if you ask for a dozen oysters from a vendor, you are likely to get 13 not 12.

Today the news reports are full of stories about people being afraid of Friday the thirteenth, putting the blame on Jesus sitting down at a table of 13 at the last supper and then being crucified on the Friday.  Personally that seems more likely to bring on an Arthur Dent moment of not being able to cope with Thursdays rather than Fridays, and better vetting of friends, but there we go.

Could it be that the French are trying to avert people's attention from the truly unlucky Friday the thirteenth back in the forteenth centruy when the French king, Philippe the Fair (Philippe le Beau) had the Knights Templars rounded up and burnt on a Friday 13th?

Still no luck on the photos clearly ...