Rural Life

St Malo and the spring tides

Ramadan started last Sunday, when the moon was dark and new.  It is the new moon that helps create the great tides, the spring tides, the ones that create a Severn Bore and the ones that make the Mont St Michel an island again.  St Malo is just round a headland from the Bay of Mont St Michel, but in that geographical zone that sees some of the biggest tides in the northern hemisphere. 

I needed to get away for a few days for a change of scene and air, so it seemed only fair to go visit St Malo, one of my favourite places, and to do so when there are some of the highest tides of the 12 year cycle - a coefficient of 116 in fact (and if anyone can explain the calculations of tide coefficients, I would be grateful).  And a very high tide is generally followed by a very low tide (to get that big tide coefficient), which meant a lot of rockpools not normally seen, would be available for inspection.

The Intramuros of St Malo is on a rocky outcrop sticking out into the estuary of the Rance, surrounded by ramparts, with the port entrance guarded by forts, including more than one with a Vaubin influence.  Here is what it looks like when the tide is about half an hour off its height and has a coefficient of 113.

The fort is on the second island out.  Between the seagull and the white pole there is a vague piece of metal - that is the rail for the high diving board on the tidal swimming pool.  What swimming pool?  This one!

The first island (the Grand Bé) is a bit of a wildlife sanctuary and also has the tomb of the French poet Chateaubriand - yes, he is also famous for the steak and has a town named for his family, as he wasn't the first of that name.  The second island is the Petit Bé and has the Vaubin fort, and during periods of normal tides is not always accessible by foot, so wasn't a brilliant posting for soldiers in the past.  But on special days, you can get right out to it with no hint of damp on your feet (the Grand Bé is accessible at most low tides).

The rocks around the back of the Grand Bé, facing the fort are covered with mussels and oysters, as they are generally not 3 meters above the sea.  On that Wednesday, the difference between high and low tide was something around 14 meters.  The view of St Malo from the islands is lovely and shows the fortifications rather well.

St Malo is a working port.  There is a fishing fleet that goes out and when I was hovering around watching them bring in the catch, it was mainly scallops.  This is tightly regulated in terms of number of days, size of shell and size of catch.  Many go straight to the restaurants in the Intramuros (I had delicious scallops on a bed of leeks, with Mediterranean vegetables one night) and along the coast, including the Thermes Marin (a thalassotherapy centre).

I didn't know it at the time, and was lucky to capture it in a photo, but there was a rather novel ship in the main port.  Not the big orange thing, but the one with the tall masts - it is the first of a new fleet of cargo ships that take high end, low weight goods across the Atlantic using only wind power.  There has been one doing the circuit St Malo, the Lesser Antilles and New York for a few years, but only taking about 40 tonnes of goods.  This new one takes nearer 150 tonnes, if I remember the TV report correctly.  It left harbour while I was there.

Leaving St Malo on Friday morning to come home, I took the route along the coast road to Cancale, stopping a couple of times, including once at the Anse de Guesclin to admire the bay and the island.  With a beautiful sunny morning, mild weather and nearly alone, it was hard to tell I was in Brittany.  I could have been anywhere, even the Caribbean! 

So now I am home, with a cold nose and good hair thanks to all the fish I ate, well buffed joints from an afternoon of thalassotherapy, and hopefully a better attitude to life in general.  But the Breton influence isn't totally over - while checking over the Garden this morning, I discovered one of my cauliflower plants had decided it was Time!  So we picked this beauty and tomorrow I'll make a cheese sauce!

Next week there will be wildlife photos and news as one of the trail cameras has come home again.  Have a good week!

 

Spring flowers

With the move into March, meteorological spring has now started and we can talk about flowers and buds with joy.  One of the least showy, but most successful spring bulbs round our way are grape hyacinths - you can't stop them it seems and they spread.  These window boxes must have been planted up with bulbs at least 7 years ago, and not by us.  We do nothing to them, and we certainly don't water them through the summer, yet each spring they produce a magnificent display to cheer us up on even the wettest and coldest of March days.

Daffodils can be a bit tetchy, coming up blind if they aren't treated with a bit of respect or if they are too crowded or if the weather isn't to their liking.  This year they are looking rather splendid.

One flower we never seem to have problems with are cowslips, with rosettes turning up everywhere and spreading across any green area they come across.  Later in the season, the mutants will start to flower, with orange and red flowers.  I believe that there are specific names for those, although I do wonder if they are the result of cross-pollination with the polyanthus that are in every garden.  For the moment we are just seeing the early yellow flowers of cowslips however, which are very lovely and a welcome sight.

The hedgerows are white with blackthorn and wild plum blossom, which is gorgeous but makes me worry for the cultivated plum blossom that will arrive soon.  So far only the peach is starting to flower, but that is quite well protected and always early.  Fortunately the Victoria Plum is not showing any sign of thinking that blossom is imminent, but the mirabelle style plum in the Meadow is a bit more optimistic.

Periwinkle can be a real thug, particularly in the wrong place, but in the Orchard it has to fight for its place.  I do love the blue flowers, and prefer the green leaves to the variegated versions.

There is another type of flower that needs my attention at the moment - the sort that is used to decorate the village float for the Comice.  It has taken a while to get a Comité des Fêtes reinvigorated, and a theme agreed for the float, but now that is all sorted, it is all hands on deck to make flowers, ready to be stuck on during May and June.  With 14 willing participants, the first session on Thursday afternoon went really well and was a very convivial event.  We have a way to go though.

There are two trail cameras placed around the ponds to see what wildlife is passing through and next week I will bring one home to check through.  While I have been without a camera, I have used a different technology to see what is going on, this time focussing on bird song.  The Merlin App by Cornell Labs (others are available) sits on my phone and when there isn't too much wind or noise of motors, I can get a view of who is making a racket around me. 

You do have to be a bit circumspect as I am pretty sure the bittern it thought it detected was actually a motorbike misfiring across the valley, but with so many small birds being hard to spot with all the vegetation, it is an eye opener.  The list of 47 species below are all those that have been picked up at least once by the app since the 1st January this year.  I have doubts about just two on this list - the green winged Teal and the European Turtle-dove, but the rest have made enough appearances for me to be confident they are, or have been, in the zone.

Brambling

Carrion crow

Cetti's Warbler

Common buzzard

Common chaffinch

Common chiffchaff

Common firecrest

Common Wood Pigeon

Crested tit

Dunnock

Eurasian Blackbird

Eurasian Blackcap

Eurasian Bluetit

Eurasian Green Woodpecker

Eurasian Jackdaw

Eurasian Jay

Eurasian Linnet

Eurasian Magpie

Eurasian Nuthatch

Eurasian Siskin

Eurasian Skylark

Eurasian Wren

European Goldfinch

European Greenfinch

European Robin

European Serin

European Starling

European Turtle-dove

Gray Wagtail

Great Spotted Woodpecker

Great tit

Green Sandpiper

Green winged Teal

Hawfinch

House Sparrow

Long-tailed tit

Mallard

Marsh tit

Mistle Thrush

Redwing

Reed Bunting

Ring-necked pheasant

Rock Pigeon

Short toed Treecreeper

Song Thrush

White Wagtail

Wood Lark

Anyway, that is more than enough for you to think about for the moment, so I leave you with an image of a small mud slide on the road near the Orchard, because, yes, it has been raining this week!

 

Water, water everywhere!

It's been a wet week and tomorrow is due to be the same.  it has severely curtailed what I wanted to do outdoors - there are parsnips that need to be lifted and eaten, but frankly neither yesterday or today were conducive to anything other than a quick trot around to top up the bird feeder and check on the level of the ponds.  We've had a lot of rain.  The Couasnon - our local small river - is full and moving much more quickly than usual, while fields and ditches have sprung streams and ponds.  You can see sometimes where a helpful ditch has been ploughed over as it once again runs with water, heading for an ancestral pond.  

I'm not actually too upset about the rain on one level as the ponds are slowly refilling, particularly the upper one.  Today it was just an inch or so below the level of the overflow pipe, which is the best I've seen for a couple of years.  The lower pond is also refilling, and now we wait to see if the clay has expanded enough and there is enough debris to block where that one has been draining away.  Today for the first time in ages, it was at the level it was when we first found it three years ago.

Thursday and Friday we had Storm Louis, who came in with strong winds and left about 32mm of rain, and since then we have had unnamed depressions with abrupt sharp showers, or just interminable wet grey as per this morning.  Friday afternoon was occasionally dry, and when it was, the skies were dramatic.

This wet weather left me with too much time on my hands.  After a long drawn out and heated discussion with the suppliers of my (non-functioning) trail camera over whether I understood how to use it properly and of course it was normal that it heated up to 55ºC and batteries only lasted 8 hours, I got frustrated.  So I spent time looking for another camera not supplied by that bunch, but that met at least 75% of my requirements (taking photos, taking videos, using rechargeable batteries, working, and WiFi or Bluetooth enabled), I settled on a pack of three cameras which are quite basic and don't do WiFi or Bluetooth but do take rechargeable batteries, and with three of them I can cover two places and have one in reserve to swap in and out.  I hope they will arrive during the week, and then I can get monitoring again - the hares, the deer, the boar, the pheasants, the badgers, the pine martens, I've missed them all these last 4 months, not forgetting Monsieur and Madame Woodpecker.

A pine marten from last year to illustrate the point!

In my post Changes for the New Year, I shared a photo of one of the chickens (Jaq) suffering a particularly drastic moult.  It has taken a while, but she is now back to full featherhood and looking much better I am pleased to say.  Perhaps she might even deign to lay an egg one of these days!

The other thing that took a lot of my time and attention last week was preparing for and then submitting to my five yearly colon examination.  It's a boring process, a bit icky if I'm honest, and I craved food with crunch or crumbs or crust, and I did pay for a private room.  It is important none the less to do those regular cancer checks, because caught early, many things are eminently treatable, and the tests are likely much less invasive than the treatment!  There we go - sermon over!

So I leave you with an image of a fairly full second pond, and hope that your feet stay dry and unwebbed!

 

A very different aspect of French life

It was going to be a very boring blog this week about gnawing cold seeping into ones bones and the stones of old houses.  Also, perhaps, reflections on how personalities affect how one views getting involved with village events, as I snuck back onto the Comité des Fêtes du Vieil Baugé after a six year absence.  But then on Friday, my world changed and I became an orphan.

My mother hasn't been particularly well for a long time, and there has been a distinct downward progression over the past 14 months or so, but even so, when you get the call, it is still a shock.  On the Thursday I had already been informed of problems with hydration, and while I was concerned, I prepared myself for the usual Friday visit, with expectations divided between sitting and listening to her snoring, or the hydration fluids having done their thing and trying to entertain her with silly little stories of nothing at all.  But instead of a Friday afternoon at the nursing home, it was a Friday afternoon at the funeral home, choosing coffins, linings, words for the press notice, and the date and time of the cremation.

They don't hang around over here - it is a legal obligation for ceremonies to be done within 6 days (working days fortunately).  Such a difference to England, where for my father, it took I think 5 days to get the documentation that meant we could go to the Registrar and then choose a funeral director, and it was a good month wait before the date of the cremation.  It meant we could do something a bit more elegant and considered, but such a long time to get it over.  Then of course, there were all those awful Covid ceremonies, with few people and huge restrictions - one neighbour said to me in the queue outside the boulangerie at the time that she felt she had been done out of the community sharing of grief and memories that make a bad day somewhat more easy to endure.

Once you find the number in the local directory and call up, you are enveloped in a well oiled process of professionals, who communicate amongst themselves to get everything done with minimum angst.  It might be all new and bewildering to you, but to them it is totally normal.  While it felt like an endless process on Friday afternoon, actually it took less than 2 hours to get things to a point where we now just wait for a call from the celebrant, and turn up on the day.

While my mother spent the last 20 years of her life in France, a country that she loved passionately, she was born in the Black Country and survived the War and air raids without recourse to evacuation.  With her school certificate and a shorthand and typing diploma in her purse, she headed to London to seek her future, shedding her accent somewhere around Watford Gap I would guess.  She did bits and bobs of modelling but her main role in London was secretarial, including time working for the massive organisation that ensured the Festival of Britain happened in 1951.  It was in their offices that she first saw and met my father, and they married in 1953.

After 10 years in London, with two smallish children, they moved to Romford Cottage in Pembury, and for the next 40 years that was her home.  She created a loving space, where there was always cake and/or flapjack in a tin, a bottle of wine open, and a tasty dinner could be conjured out of the contents of the store cupboard and the fridge.  She engaged in village life, reluctantly at first - this was not someone who wanted to be a stalwart of the WI - but then passionately, fighting inappropriate development plans, and was parish councillor for a while too, responsible for keeping footpaths open.  At 50, she needed to go back to work, but electric typewriters and computers were not for her, and she did a catering qualification before doing office and directors' table catering in the City of London.

She retired earlier than she wanted, but was able to spend more time with my father and enabled him to stay at the Cottage until just a couple of days before his death.  She didn't then realise that she would have to wait 27 years to join him.  She tried not to be in too many paintings but there are odd sketches when Dad was itching to draw.

The Cottage was a lovely home, but impractical, not least as it was miles from anything useful, and when we decided to move to France, Mum jumped ship first.  She used our house as a base for finding her own piece of France, settling on a four bedroom townhouse in Chinon.  She loved that house and made it her own, although she hadn't really been upstairs for about 7 years, and then only in company, restricted by failing joints to the ground floor.

She tested the French health and social care system to its limits - and it is a marvellous system.  Now she is, I hope, at peace.

There may well not be a blog next week.

 

Different kinds of cold

Cold shouldn't be surprise in winter - it is right and proper that it is cold.  Fruit trees benefit enormously from a good cold spell during the winter to rest and be inspired to bloom and then fruit in the warmer seasons.  A good cold snap will also kill off many undesirable residents of house and garden (as well as some desirable ones sadly).  In fact people often dream of those ideal winter days - sunny, frost glistening everywhere, puffed up birds tweeting in the hedgerows and around bird feeding stations, breathe freezing in the air, and then going back indoors to sit beside a roaring log fire, with a mug of something soothing, as your toes warm up again.  Something like we had on Thursday in fact.

It's been cold all week - but not that cold, as only once has the chicken water fountain frozen solid.  Instead, and apart from Thursday, we have had the less appealing cold winter weather - grey, slightly misty, never getting warmer than +1ºC or getting colder than -1ºC, unrelenting and dreary.  The stones of the house never benefit from a bit of sunshine, the house is mostly extremely cold as the electric heating only goes on between 10pm and 6am, there is no brightness to lighten the heart and spirits, just grey, drab, cold and depressing.

Yet amongst that frozen soil, there are the growing tips of broad beans starting to come through, and even with the cold, there are more every time I count them - today there were 27!  And hanging from that pine tree there is a bird feeder that is alive with great and bluetits, chirping and stuffing themselves with fat and seeds, and hopefully finishing off their meals with pine processionary caterpillars from the nests high in the tree.  My birdsong app on the phone tells me that Firecrests, song thrushes, dunnock, chaffinch and linnets are around in the hedges, while my ears are well enough trained to spot jays, green and greater spotted woodpeckers, blackbirds and magpies making their presence felt.  It's just me that is hating the dull days, so I flop on the sofa with cats.

There is a fine tradition in France of leaders offering their best wishes to their populations of interest for the New Year.  In rural communities like ours, this includes a ceremony (this morning) where our village mayor and the mayor of the district, plus local councillors and a representative of the Youth Council stand up and say their piece.  They review the year that has gone and outline the plans and hopes for the coming year.  The big event for Baugé en Anjou will be the passage of the Olympic Flame through the area on the 28th of May, although at the moment it is hard to get too excited about standing around outside waiting to see a passing flame.  I'm sure by late May I will be more enthralled!  Anyway, if you make it through the one hour twenty minutes of speeches (that was this year's duration), you get a glass of fizz, a couple of sugar buns and a chance to catch up with people you haven't seen for a while.  The photos are the official ones taken by Maryline Margas - one from the perspective of the presenters, one from the perspective of the audience.

So now I've lost feeling in my toes, as after two days of heating, my computer room has only struggled up to 17ºC, which means that I'm going to proof read this, post it, and go and find a fire and a couple of warm cats to put on my feet.  Have a good week!

 

 

A look back at 2023

Happy New Year's Eve!

I thought I would review the year, reprising my favourite photos from this blog, one for each month of the year.  Sometimes it was quite hard to select one, but I was hard hearted, particularly about stripy piglets!  So here goes.

In January, the trail camera was well placed by the ponds to track the activities of the animals that use the back path, as well as the hunters who seem to think it is their god given right to go through there as well.  Daylight photos were better, and this one picked up wonderful detail of the young stag's face.

Our annual truffle fest was a bit later than usual, in February, but we made the most of the 100g of black gold that John ordered up from further south.  While I photographed every dish I made with it, this one reminded me the most of the wonderful flavours.

By March, the trail camera had been moved to The Garden, as we had spotted some rather large holes and wanted to know what was doing the rounds.  This was important as it is where we have our kitchen garden area, and we don't need badgers digging up our prized potatoes or deer sampling tomatoes or corn.  The holes were down to rats - hardly surprising in farming territory - but the camera stayed for a while to enjoy the antics of Mr and Mrs Woody Woodpecker, chasing the last of the walnuts among other tasty morsels.

In April, our patience finally paid off and we were able to harvest the first of 6 cauliflowers.  There is a lot of argument here in the expat community as to why cauliflowers are so expensive when they can be purchased for under a pound at Tescos (other supermarkets are available).  Well, these beauties had been in the ground taking up a lot of space for 7 months, should have been fed, should have been netted against cabbage white butterflies, and are very particular about what soil they will tolerate!  I think cauliflowers are cheap at 5 euros, given the required effort and investment.

By May, the trail camera had moved again, this time to a higher up path between two walnut trees.  We captured images and video of a coypu, which we weren't delighted to find rambling around the area, and the back heels of deer as they passed through at speed.  My favourite of the resident animals also came through quite a lot - the hare - I just love them!

After a long wait, June brought the bee orchids into flower.  With a phone camera, it can be a bit tricky getting the flower in focus, but for once it worked.

In July, we started to get smug about the potential parsnip and carrot crop - I had sown a long row, with parsnips every 6 inches or so and then carrots quite thickly in between.  My thinking was that parsnips are slow to germinate and in the ground for ages; carrots don't germinate that well either, but are eaten long before the parsnips need the space and the nutrients.  Well we are still eating both in December (and frankly into January next year too), but it worked well and I've never grown such good carrots, and not grown such long parsnips for over 20 years!

August was all about the Comice in Vieil Baugé - while there had been lots of preparations since the start of the year, painting panels with music and with dancers, painting dancers on piles of hay bales and making and stringing up bunting, August was the final push and the event itself.  The rain on the Friday night and early Saturday morning meant that it was an anxious time getting the podium ready for the first speeches of the day, but we did it!

And then it was all over and September had to be devoted to dealing with the mass of fruit at every turn - pears, plums, quince, apples and figs.  We actually had more figs and better figs than we have ever had before. I made loads of jam, we ate loads raw, and then I also made a rather good piquant fig sauce which has been wonderful with foie gras (if you like that sort of thing).

An experiment that dominated the year, was growing the tropical fruit cristophine.  Although a fruit and looking a bit like a bumpy, prickly pear, it is actually used as a vegetable, and grows from a ripe fruit.  You can't actually take out the pip and expect it to grow, you have to sacrifice a whole fruit so it has nutrients to get it going.  If it is happy, and ours was very happy, it grows enormous!  Ours was perhaps 20 feet in every direction from the growing point, at its height in October.  It is also very productive and I think we eventually got nearly 50 viable fruits off it, weighing roughly 400 grammes each.

In November, we added to our cat family.  It wasn't intentional, but when a small and rather cute little fellow bounces around the garden, and then looks very sorry for itself when wind and rain come in, I can't really turn my back.  Facebook searches and a vet check didn't produce a registered owner, so we adopted young Rebus, who is really rather a sweet little boy, albeit with some very pointy bits (teeth and claws). 

He is a lot bigger now! 

So December is nearly out.  Christmas Eve was notable for magnificent sunsets all across north west France at the very least.  As much of the month has been dull, grey and wet, this was a wonderful moment to cherish and record.  Earlier in the day, we had been able to fly one of our kites and enjoy blue skies, but the display at teatime was more impressive.

Tomorrow is a new year, and for me something of a change, as I become a pensioner and will have to use my time constructively.  I don't believe in New Year resolutions as I believe they are mostly borne of self-loathing (get fit, get thin, stop this, stop that) and set you up to fail.  Instead I hope to have targets to achieve in the year, but they still need a bit of refinement to make sure they are S M A R T!

A very Happy 2024 to you, with hopes of peace, prosperity, love and freedom.

 

Merry Christmas and all that jazz

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!

 

I gather the winter solstice is on Friday 22nd and then the days will start to get longer - it can't come too soon this time!  While there is a certain Christmas joy doing the rounds, with the pub reopened and some lovely window displays, plus the Christmas Fayre in Baugé that is just coming to an end, and some lovely lighting decorations around the place, the hours of darkness are getting to me.  Yesterday was beautiful, with clear blue skies, but today we were back to the old grey and dank conditions which weigh on the spirits.

The wise women of the Baugeois tend to say that the weather will change for the better when the moon changes.  Like I say, yesterday was a lovely sunny day, and you could just see the new moon as we went out to the pub, but today dawned (eventually) cold and overcast, and the cloud hasn't really lifted as promised.  Still I did prepare a bed for broad beans (which included digging up a forgotten clump of potatoes) and then sowed a whole packed of Aquadulce Claudia broad beans, to give something to look forward to in about May next year.

During the week we had another dull day (well more than one, if I'm honest), but we also got a gleam of late sunlight, which meant a stunning rainbow appeared above the Christmas decorations in the village.  While the photo doesn't do it justice, it was a lovely thick one, and was spotted from quite a way around.

On Fridays I always go out and about to visit in Chinon and Azay le Rideau.  The other thing about this autumn and early winter is the amount of rain, and therefore the amount of water there is around.  I couldn't get a photo of the Indre at Azay le Rideau, but I could see that many of the lawns at the Chateau d'Islette (former love nest of Rodin) were submerged as I drove by.  It was a different matter at Chinon.  As I arrived at the St Luand end of the town, I was able to stop and photograph badly the width of the river, where it had gone over the far bank and spread into the meadows beyond.

In Chinon itself, once I had parked up, I was able to walk along the riverside and admire the spectacle.  A lone paddleboarder was working his way up against the flow, and having to stay as close into the bank as he could, so as not to be swept away.  There is normally much more daylight between the river and the arches of the bridge.

I tend to park in the Place Jeanne d'Arc in Chinon - it's free and unless there is a funfair camped out there, you can usually find a space.  It is dominated by a massive equestrian statue of Joan of Arc, donated to the town by the sculptor over a hundred years ago.  While there is a rumour that he asked for payment and was refused, I tend to wonder what Chinon did to him to make him offer them this "gift".

Special, isn't it?

Anyway, sadly Christmas cards aren't writing themselves, so I will leave you contemplating this work of art and wish you a good week.

 

The slow road to Christmas

Meteorological autumn was the wettest on record for Maine et Loire, no ifs, no buts.  There were few edible mushrooms as the rain didn't start until mid October, so the mycelium was challenged.  There was a brief flush and since then we have only found inedible specimens around the place, but lots of them!  The One Acre Wood, which we visited this week on a rare fine day, had an outcrop of what I call Slimy Grey Ones, which turn up in clumps and lines, I assume following a tree root or similar.  To me they are always the sign that there is no chance of anything more that is edible, and while they are relatively attractive, they mark a clear phase in the year.

During the year, one of the walnut trees at the Orchard died - the nuts didn't develop and the leaves fell in August.  It is hard to say why it has died, but the mushrooms at its base that started to appear last week may be a very strong hint that it was diseased.  This weekend, the mushrooms have opened up and while last week they looked relatively attractive, this week they don't!

The days are ever shorter, and with bad weather, it is now dark at 5pm.  So we start to look indoors for our amusements.  The village pub has reopened after some 18 months closed, so our regular Friday drink and debrief down the way can restart.  Now as it only reopened last weekend, we were a bit saddened to see that apart from us, there were two single blokes inside with us, and three lads drinking outside on the terrace.  Closer inspection of Facebook showed that another local hostelry had a band in that night, so hopefully next Friday will be rather more lively or the tenure of the new landlord could be quite short!

This weekend is Telethon weekend - very similar in concept to the BBC's Children in Need, except that the funds raised go to support research into medical conditions.  This year the focus was on Duchene's Muscular Dystrophy.  We tend to avoid the events to be honest - games for children are not for us, the convivial evening sharing "poule au pot" is also something we avoid, as we don't much like boiled chicken.  We used to buy the knicknacks sold at the bakery, but that closed three years ago now.  This year the local society for protecting the village heritage put on an exhibition in the church - each year they do a photography competition, and the exhibition was of the 30 best images submitted this year on the topic of The Tree.  It was nice to visit the church, it was interesting to look at the photos, but when we went, it was just us and the organisers - I hope more turned up!

The heritage group also ensure that there is a crèche or nativity scene in the church for Christmas.  An old neighbour of ours, Monsieur André, used to make figures and would set it up each year.  He was a smelly and curmudgeonly old boy, who lived in a tiny hovel tucked back from the main road without mains water or drainage (hence the smell), but lived well into his 90s, the last few months in a Home.  The sad thing was that only a small handful turned up for his funeral, despite the care he took each year making the church ready for Christmas.

I mentioned that autumn had been spectacularly wet, particularly the latter half.  That humidity is carrying on into winter, and the last week has seen some truly awful days weather-wise.  The cold has moved on and now we have very mild (currently 14ºC) and very wet conditions, with some 20mm of raid in the last 48 hours adding to what fell on Thursday, and Wednesday.  Yesterday afternoon we had a short respite and I took the opportunity to see how the ponds at the end of the orchard were doing - the good news being that they are now starting to look much more purposeful.  I startled three deer that were lurking down there - two bounded away, showing me their white bottoms, while one stood still and camouflaged the other side of the fish pond.  My attempt to photograph him was of course laughably bad, but I know he was there.  Somewhere....

Finally, Rebus the Kitten had his second set of jabs this week.  He was also weighed and shown to be putting on weight mainly through size as he isn't fat, so he could grow up to be quite a big boy.  He has a lot of energy and hasn't mastered gravity at all.  He has learned that the best place to be in the evening is where you can see and feel the log fire!

Have a good week!

 

First days of winter

Yes, alarmingly it is now meteorological winter, and the year is really slipping away.  On a happier note, in about 3 weeks, the days will start to get longer, but we have the three cold months to get through now.  The area has got its Christmas decorations out promptly this year - to do with Baugé being a Pettit Cité de Charactère and they are collectively looking to brighten up people's lives.  What has livened up our village rather more is that the pub reopened last night after a closure of nearly 18 months.  New leaseholders, new décor, new name (not sure about that) and hopefully a new attitude towards the establishment from the locals.  The local mayor was pretty blunt when he announced that a taker had been found - use it or lose it!  Let's hope people take that to heart!  I took a photo at the opening night but it was truly awful, so here is the Christmas Tree instead.

On the sunny days this week, I have been determined to go out for a walk and admire the area.  On Wednesday morning, I was up at la Flèche for the market, and le Loir was looking particularly attractive after the recent floods.  Sadly I can't load up the photo of that - not at all sure why!

Later on Wednesday - as it really was so beautiful out - I went for a walk around the village.  I went part way up what is often called the Roman Road, and it may well be.  It is straight, making no apology for the gradient of the hill, and is well buried into the hillside, with tall oaks and chestnuts at ground level.  Half way up, when the water table is high enough, a spring follows the line of the path for some distance, so I only went as far as the mud from that, before turning back to the village.

I made my way down the hill and took the road to the Pont de Godot - yes, really you can go and wait for him there, but he never shows up!  The river splits into two arms upstream towards the town, and the water looks clear and bright and is flowing rapidly at the moment in both arms, apart from where measures are in place to slow the flow.

From the bridge the view up to the church shows the relative height of the hill and the thoroughly twisted nature of the spire.  It can be seen from quite a distance, if you know where to look!

Other days have not been so sunny and crisp, and have also been filled with distractions such as battling customs forms and websites to send a parcel, the French health service and finding an electrician.  Rebus the kitten spends much of his time trying to eat me, and when he isn't doing that, he is asleep and growing.  The slow descent to the "Festive Period" makes me less likely to do anything useful, and more inclined to sit under a rug in front of the TV with a pot of tea and a chewy kitten.  However, I need to give myself a metaphoric kick in the pants and design a Christmas card, write a Christmas letter, and more importantly, undertake the necessary steps to close my business and structure my retirement.

Here's hoping for some motivation sometime next week!