Rural Life

Quiet days of August

Last week was the flurry of excitement that is the annual Comice here in Baugé en Anjou, and since then, things have generally been much quieter.  Local people are either on holiday or preparing for the Rentré next week - the start of September that brings a new school year, a new year for the sports and arts clubs, people going back to work and taking things a bit more seriously, being able to get an artisan to answer the phone, the tax assessment results, getting the chimney swept and starting to think about winter heating.  It's a big thing here, probably bigger than New Year, and taken most seriously.

For us, it should mean that the holiday makers disperse, making it easier to park at the local markets, less frantic calls from people who can see weeds in their lawn or furry pears on their trees (actually known as quince, but there we go), and a slightly less fraught diary.  In fact, in previous years, September has been a month where I have had something on every weekend, and sometimes more than one thing too.  This year seems more sane - only a pig roast in a couple of weeks' time and perhaps being able to visit things for European Heritage Weekend.

The gardens are relatively quiet - chillies are ripening, as are the meagre corn cobs, borlotti beans are flowering and setting and the potatoes need to be lifted.  With August, some of the loveliest flowers arrive - cyclamen.  They are mainly pink but some are white, and over the years, the clumps get larger.  The ones in our lawn started as the odd flower here and there and now have spread.  It's the same in the One Acre Wood.  These ones are at The Studio and seemed to come up overnight.

Although the weather remains frustratingly dry, there are more clouds in the evening now, which make for colourful sunsets.  I'm never great at taking photographs of these, but I am getting better, and this one was a pleasing one.

I've not taken many photographs this week, and the trail camera was pointing at an area that looked like it was a badger playground.  Well if it was, they weren't playing last week.  The camera has moved and there are no photos to share from it, so I will have to round off with a photo of young Monsieur Clause, who is looking very sleek and pleased with himself at the moment.  I think he is having a good mousing season.

I'll take more and better photos this week - I promise.

 

Just an average February

February can be a rough month - if you are older than about 18, there is no real excitement, and certainly by my age, Valentine's Day holds no thrills any more.  The weather can be lovely, sometimes for longer than a couple of hours, and it can be vile.  We had some sunny intervals today, but it was blowing a hoollie and while it went some way to drying the laundry, things are now hanging all over the bathroom as there was a heavy shower.  We must have had an inch of rain in the week, and while that has done good things to the water levels in the ponds, we didn't actually need it.

During one of the nicer hours of weather, I managed to scramble round onto the deer path at the back of the second pond, to get a whole different view.  The pond is clearly leaking water somewhere, so while I had those lovely big fish in there last year, I can't see the pond ever being able to support 10 to 12 inch long fish again.  I'm not sure what has made the pond leak, but I'm sure the environmentalists will tell me when they visit in the spring.

With the longer days, the chickens have more time to consider their raison d'être, and one (I'm fairly sure it is Jacque the Ripper) has started to lay eggs again.  She is pushing out 6 per week, which is nice and enough for a meal and an addition to a pudding but I really need Mack (the Knife) to get back into the swing of things too before I can put away the egg box I take to the market on a Saturday.

I've decided we need to work our way through the leeks we have been growing, not least so the land can be prepared for other crops in the spring.  I lifted 4 rather nice ones and a runt - I could have done without the feline assistance, but Donald made it clear I had no choice.

I have a regular walk to check out all edges of the land and see what is going on.  There are little cul-de-sacs that I go down to check on the various ponds, that are like little spurs off the circuit.  One bit we always go past is a large walnut just uphill from the ponds that seemed to die last year.  It has a number of broken branches held up in the canopy - what the arborists tend to call widow-makers - one of which came down during the week.  While John tidied it up, I looked at another branch that appears to be long dead and needs to come off.  It was well festooned with rather unpleasant fungus.

Last night we pretty well finished this year's truffle fest - there is just the truffle infused camembert to eat up.  They were very aromatic, but the quality was a little patchy.  It was the first time storing them in rice and then using the rice in a risotto has really worked for me, so that was a real plus.  However the stuff going on in life in general has perhaps made me a little less inventive than normal.  It's been very enjoyable, but I hope to do much better next year.  Truffle and prawn risotto is always a winner though!

Anyway, that's all for this week - have a good one!

 

Truffle time again

January can be an OK month, with galette parties and AGMs for various societies and the hangover of Christmas bits to get through, but February, while shorter, seems to be more depressing.  Often overcast, often cold, often moist or even dank, there are a few signs of spring but most mean you end up worrying about frosts killing off blossom and new shoots. 

To lighten the mood, we tend to buy 100 grammes of black truffle and spend up to 10 days with a meal a day generously sprinkled with black gold.  The date varies - normally depending on the spot price and what John's suppliers are up to.  This year Truffle Arrival Day was the 1st February, and the 105g we received are very aromatic!

Obviously the first day we have the classic scrambled eggs with truffle, this year supported by local whole grain multi-seed bread that is delivered to our door every Wednesday.  Other meals have included poached salmon on linguini with truffle, emmental omelette with truffle and truffled mash.  Photographing food is challenging, not least when steaming slightly, so most of those meals don't have a good photo, but the scrambled eggs do and you will have to imagine the rest!

The signs of spring are there - we just hope there isn't a harsh and prolonged cold spell again.  The catkins are elongating on the hazel stands, puffing clouds of noxious yellow/green pollen if you brush against them - my sinuses are twitching already!  The less cultivated plum trees have very "pregnant" looking buds, so I fear that we might see blossom in the next couple of weeks - o so pretty, but o so vulnerable.

As well as being Truffle Day, the 1st February was also pompom removal day for our little kitten.  When I say little, he now weighs in at 4 kilos, while being whippet thin, so I think he is going to be a big boy in time.  As well as the main objective of the operation, the vets also sorted out an umbilical hernia he had.  It wasn't giving him any trouble and in relative terms was smaller than when we got him, but it seemed worth sorting now, rather than when it caused a problem down the line. So our little boy has been wearing the Cone of Shame - and perhaps because he is a boy, he has submitted to it, and lies around looking mournful, or bashes around looking like a grey Darth Vader and trying to cause the same amount of chaos.  Just another week of this to go!

I walked back from an appointment in town and took a footpath that leads past a garden I used to mow - the one with the lake.  I wanted to have a good look at what had been done before the screening trees and scrub get their summer coats.  It was sad to see that several trees had gone, and I would never have permitted the scale of mud on the grass walk around the lake, but it is their house now and nothing to do with me.  I also stopped at the stone bridge over the river and looked along to the village.  The river is quite full at the moment, and with the light in the right direction, I could see meanders and riffles in the current that should slow the flow and make the river more appealing to aquatic life.  I was delighted to see that.

We have a relatively quiet week ahead of us, apart from a post-Comice party, so hope to get more winter gardening done.  Today I planted the last of the garlic I overbought, and have also set to chit half of the monster packet of seed potatoes I bought in a fit of enthusiasm.  That means that we will need to prepare a bed for 54 seed potatoes, for planting on Good Friday or so - a task that should keep us off the streets a bit!

Have a good week!

 

New shoots, new beginnings

Many thanks to everyone for your kind wishes over the past week.  The funeral ceremony went well on Friday, with a nice party afterwards, as Mum would have wanted.  Now I have to roll up my sleeves and get down to the paperwork and clearing stuff out.  That's my retirement sorted out then!

After the freezing cold and dull days, the weather has warmed up significantly, catching quite a few things on the hop.  I saw a Brimstone butterfly this morning, which is crazy, and a demoiselle fly as well.  Neither will prosper I fear.  We spent a lot of time today at the gardens looking around and taking stock and listening to the birds.  It was while doing this at a different vantage point to normal that John was horrified to see the little b@st@rds below.

These disgusting critters have no redeeming features at all - they are pine processionary caterpillars.  They are a non-native invasive species with no natural predators in this hemisphere (although greattits and bluetits will eat them now) and the spines, which shed very easily, are extremely toxic to animals and humans, causing if you are lucky, an itchy rash that lasts (from experience) for at least 15 days (they can do much worse).  John sprayed the blighters with an insecticide we use on the chickens, and when I am next there, I will wash the area with boiling water and then cold water to flush away the spines.  The only good thing about seeing them today is that they are about 2 months too early, so we have to hope that a nice sharp cold snap kills them while turning into moths.

On the other hand, the winter sown crops are starting to grow visibly, so it's not all bad.  The broad beans sown just before Christmas are now mostly up and looking healthy - once again I have dodged the bullet that many around here are caught by and the seeds were not all stolen by voles!  The first batch of garlic went in more recently and is now showing too.  I planted more today, so we should be safe from vampires in 2024.

When we planted our quince tree, we put crocus and snowdrop bulbs around it - perhaps 20 years ago now?  Anyway, the crocus did well for a while but are long gone, as are most of the snowdrops, but one clump comes back year after year, tucked in close to the tree trunk.  Today they are looking wonderful.

The new beginning?  There are new people at the boulangerie La Fontaine in Baugé!  So far we have sampled their croissants and their almond croissants - both found to be very good.  We have also tried their flatbread - they tried to explain it to me, the different type of flour that they use, the different way it is cooked on a hot plate.  I looked at it and my immediate thought was stottie cake!  It's not as fluffy inside as a stottie, so rather thinner - perhaps a mix of stottie and pitta bread.  It is totally yummy though - particularly warmed with farm butter and tuna rillettes.  So when you are next in Baugé, try them out, because these people need to be encouraged!

Have a good week!

 

Changes for the New Year

Happy New Year!

Good health, a bit of joy in every day and may your feathers not all fall out at once!  We have four chickens and a bantam and we haven't seen an egg in weeks - I actually had to buy some yesterday, as we didn't have enough to make an emergency omelette if we needed to.  Bridie the Freeloading Bantam only lays when she thinks the weather is going to be right for some serious brooding, and winter is not that time.  Mo the Pensioner hasn't laid an egg since she came to stay until the day of her demise.  Well, she looks no different after nearly 2 years and hasn't fallen off her perch.  The economic migrant kept laying last winter, but gave up in March 2023 and hasn't produced an egg since - although she now looks rather splendid.  That means that all the laying work has been done by Mac and Jack, and they have decided to go on strike and to produce new feathers rather than eggs.  One is starting to look a bit more sensible, but I was faced with this horror this morning when feeding them.  It has to be cold round her bum!

Another change for the new year is that it has finally stopped raining!  We were down near Saumur during the week, stocking up on fizz, because a house round here without an emergency bottle of fizz is a very bad thing.  We parked by the Thouet, which joins la Loire just west of Saumur, coming up from Montreuil-Bellay and over the border with Nouvelle Aquitaine.  It had broken its banks in an impressive manner and was travelling at speed, feeding into an already swollen Loire, so respite from more rain is welcome.  However, be careful what you wish for, as it is turning colder, much colder.  Colder indeed than we have known for about 5 years apparently.

Cold weather anticyclones bring an interesting phenomenon, not totally pleasant, cold weather static cling.  It is annoying if one is human - it's what makes wearing a hat and taking it off and having your hair upright a thing in winter.  Yes it would happen anyway, but the cold static cling makes it worse, and crackly to deal with.  For cats, and particularly quite floofy cats, it is a sartorial nightmare and can be a bit uncomfortable too.  This morning, Spooky obliged me with a demonstration of how rather smart black fur can look horrific in these conditions.

My way of life is changing a bit too.  With no more work in the UK, I am now able to concentrate more on doing what I have been evaluating other people doing for nearly 10 years, and managing an area for wildlife.  I am hoping to get a visit from the naturalists that take an interest in the ENS (roughly translated as the area of natural interest) that just encroaches on the Meadow and the Orchard.  How to manage the pond/wetland area is one big question, not least as it is impenetrable due to bramble and dead man's beard, and I'm sure that allowing a greater diversity of vegetation would be better for wildlife.  What to do about the meadow, with the range of orchids that sometimes thrive there, the badgers and the sea of butterflies including one that I think is a species of conservation interest for the ENS?  Then getting a plan of action and seeing it through.  I fear my big fish are history, but you never know!

In the interim, I will enjoy the irises, that are just starting to show, and the narcissi, when they come through too.

On the growing front, there are the first signs of the broad beans coming up that I sowed in December.  Today I took advantage of a bit of sunshine to plant a first batch of garlic - as I'm a bit late with it, I had to buy a huge bag of planting garlic and have found space so far for about half.  They say you plant on the shortest day and lift on the longest day - well I missed the shortest day by about three weeks I guess, but it shouldn't make that much difference.  I'm prepared to wager 5 grown bulbs that I lift the crop before the end of June!

Our cheap electricity deal means that for the next week, we won't be able to afford heating in my office (when load demand is high, the unit price is three times normal, as a way of smoothing demand - when load demand is low we can light up the house like a prison yard).  Running the washing machine becomes a challenge and life is concentrated in the living room.  In preparation for the red day that is tomorrow, I must therefore close and go and use electricity in a wise manner.  Have a cosy 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.

 

It's become cold!

Yes, we have finally had our first frosts.  I have a dim memory of this week back in perhaps 1969 or so when it snowed, and I also remember trying to drive through Flers in Normandy and negotiating drifts six inches deep, so it shouldn't be surprising that we have had two white frosts now.  Of course the cold makes everything very clear and crisp as we settle into a winter anticyclone.  That can make taking photographs a bit tricky.  This one of the turret on the back of the chateau in Baugé came out very nicely.

It was rather more difficult to get a decent shot of this hidden piece of the old town wall and turret, not least as I was down a narrow lane, with little room for manoeuvre.  The contrast with the light is really too harsh.

The weather brings out magnificent sunsets but they bring their own challenges when taking photos - this one worked OK.

The crisp clear air and frost makes it much easier to see the nests of the vile pine processionary caterpillar - last year we didn't have many, but this year this poor tree is riddled with them.  I now need to invest in attracting great tits to the garden as they are the only predator that will take the revolting things on.  I am anti pine processionaries as I am sensitive to their spines, while they can do really nasty things to cats and dogs.  They are a non-native invasive species, brought in with lumber in the past and have spread across the country.

The frosts have finally done for the cristophine vine, and it now looks very sad and ugly.  We will have to unpick it from the frame and compost all that vegetable material, and then feed up the area with manure and organic matter, as the frame is too solid to move to a different spot for next year.  John cut out the last large fruit yesterday, which had got itself well integrated into the netting and had started to sprout.  It will likely be the parent of next year's vine, although there is a spare if needed.

With the autumn and the very short days, farmers are more limited in what they can do - although I have seen quite a bit of twilight ploughing going on recently.  But give a French farmer a bit of thinking time, and their thoughts turn to their grievances and how to get their message across effectively.  Sometimes it's calendars with scantily clad peasants, sometimes it is taking large piles of lettuce and setting fire to them (never entirely sure how that works), sometimes it is dumping large piles of manure in supermarket parking areas (and removing every last trace at the end of the day as it is too good to waste), or spraying slurry on things.  This year, protests have taken a new turn, literally.  They are out in the evenings turning village signs upside down.  It is done carefully, and the markers are still there and easy to see (the village name sign is the start of the 50kmph limit for built up areas, so it is important), but they are upside down.

The argument is that French agricultural policy is upside down as the constraints put on local farmers are such that their products are more expensive than cheap imports from countries without limitations on the use of chemicals, fertilisers, a lower minimum wage for seasonal workers, lower husbandry standards, etc and while people say they want farmers to work to these high standards, they are not prepared to pay the extra so that the farmers can live from their work.  So they want a land free of pesticides, but won't pay the necessary premium for organic produce.  They have a point - Solidarity!!

Well, it is jolly cold in the non-heated extremities of the house, so I am going to call it a day and head for the fireside.  Rebus the kitten is doing well, is a bundle of energy and is going through the rather annoying teething stage - my hands are taking the brunt of it at the moment.  It won't last - or that's what I tell myself.

 

November musings

This isn't a classic autumn, with lovely colours, sharp, bright days, and cold nights with a log fire.  October was the warmest ever recorded in France, Europe and indeed the world, so the sudden shock of cold that is needed for the marvellous reds and yellows of autumn hasn't happened.  Instead we had a warm and relatively dry October, and since the start of November, we have had two named storms and at least 66 millimetres of rain.  Of course that is nothing compared to up in the Pas de Calais, where they have unprecedented floods, but it is quite enough here.  Our ponds (other than in the One Acre Wood) are filling with water finally and there are waterlogged fields, testimony to the areas of clay pan in the valleys around here.  There is some autumn colour, but really only offered by field maple.

While in the UK not wearing a poppy is near criminal behaviour, here in France, you can choose to wear a cornflower, but have to look hard to buy one.  However, every village in our district has its own Remembrance Parade, before everyone converges at Baugé for the big one.  The local Cadets get to play a lot of jaunty marches and the fire brigade and police need to attend as many of the parades as they can get to, and pity the poor standard bearers for the Anciens Combattants, not in the first flush of youth in any case, and then needing to parade their standards at least twice!  However the stigmata of war are to be found everywhere if you know where to look - small shrines to fallen planes or murdered resistance fighters, bullets and marks in walls, hidden arms in roof voids or skeletons in cellars, and a repurposed Nazi bunkhouse doing time as a garage.  It is therefore more than just the uniformed groups that are out and about whenever the 11th November falls, not the nearest Sunday, but the real day, to remember, to demand the end of war, and to think of those that have fallen.

Despite the lack of frost so far, I couldn't wait any longer and dug up a couple of parsnips.  In my defence I found a lovely oxtail in the market, and you can't slow cook oxtail without a nice parsnip or two and carrots.  That's tomorrow's joy as we have the rest of the cristophine and cauliflower cheese tonight, plus I set the slow cooker off at about 10am for oxtail and at that time today, these beauties were still in the ground!

Although the leaves are still on the trees, particularly the oaks, we made a start on this year's firewood campaign.  In late summer I check round to see which trees are either dead or mostly dead, and mark them up for felling, and then through the winter, we will cut down perhaps five and process them, taking the long dead stuff away, and leaving the lengths of recently living wood stacked in the One Acre Wood to mature. 

Three years ago, the plot next to the One Acre Wood was clear felled and that has made a difference to the light and the wind patterns.  Added to that, the desperately dry and hot summers, and there are actually nearer 20 trees marked for felling.  Yesterday we took a huge one down that had a good position to fall nicely - an easy one - as it has been almost a year since the last felling.  It came down nicely, but with a huge bang - it had fallen directly onto an old stump!  Close inspection of the trunk showed evidence of a fence nail from some 18 years ago, before we bought the Wood.

Another bit of evidence of how mucked up this year is, is a late flush of kittens.  Normal kitten time is the summer, with them being discarded by the road or in woods between late June and mid-August as people go on holiday.  So to find a young kitten, perhaps 14 or 16 weeks old bouncing around the garden and the courtyard in November was a bit strange.  A plea on the local Facebook site did not bring forth a worried owner, rather someone else who had the same kitten bouncing around, two gardens over, and wasn't able to take it on.  Another neighbour had taken it to the vet to see if was identified (a legal requirement here in France), but no.  He also tried to take it to a shelter, but was told no.  The shelter I support I know has run out of space as well.  What to do? 

Well, as an xx year old Mad Cat Woman, what could I do?  Rebus - current gender unknown (but will be neuter as soon as possible) - has landed and made itself very comfortable.  Nibbles is unaware and so not fussed, but Poirot and Zola are unimpressed.  It's going to be a long winter!

Have a good week!

 

Looking for happy things

I find late October and November difficult - the change in the hour doesn't make the difference, it is the generally short length of day, the mess and the realisation that it will be at least 4 months before it warms up again.  Every 10 years, it gets worse, with the lurking of a "significant" birthday.  Twice we have managed to avoid that - but the holidays involved were expensive, and we didn't have as many cats!

Storms Ciaran and Domingos don't help either - I hate the way that strong winds bluster around the house and garden, howling and rattling and shaking.  The amount of rain also makes visits to the chickens and just generally around the garden fraught with dangers of slipping on mud, and of getting wet if I don't time it right.  So I look out for things to cheer me up.

This year, something that just keeps giving are the cyclamen, both the pink ones that have run away from gardens (or have been helped in their mission for world domination by mice and shrews) and the more delicate but wilder white ones.  We have white ones in the One Acre Wood and each year there are more leaves, and now, with maturity, there are ever more places where one, two or a whole clump of flowers poke up between the fallen leaves.  Later, I will drive myself mad counting all the sets of leaves that indicate where there are corms, but not just yet.

The garden escapees are bolder in colour, and stronger flowers.  Between the Garden and the Orchard, there is a disused green lane, which is a haunt of boar and deer, and is gradually being taken over by false acacia.  During the late spring, the hidden garden shrubs put on a fine display of flowers, but at this time of year, the lane is filled with pink cyclamen flowers, hiding among the ivy and detritus, and lifting my heart when I see them.

Today, the sky has been swept clean by Storm Domingo and underfoot is wet and squelchy, so gardening didn't appeal.  Instead, armed with my phone and escorted by Monsieur Clause, I took a long ramble around the Meadow and Orchard.  The phone has an app that is somewhat addictive, which identifies birdsong in real time.  Standing in the sunshine at one edge of the Meadow, I was told I was listening to robins, chaffinch, great and long-tailed tits, a common firecrest and a Cetti's warbler.  I also watched a small group of jackdaw mobbing a buzzard that had the temerity to be in the zone.  The rain has refilled the ponds a bit, or the three I could look into anyway, the access to the fourth was too overgrown.  I fear it is too late for my huge fish, but many other things enjoy the wetland.  Walking back up the Orchard, I found some weird fungi - not as dramatic as Devil's Fingers which are black or red, but still ghostly and strangely disturbing.

The trail camera isn't behaving at the moment, so my only photo of wildlife this week is this huge, orange, flesh-eating, jelly slug.  I had hoped to plant some tulip bulbs in that old WC cistern, but it might not be the best idea I have ever had, if that is what lives in it at the moment!  I'll have to find a plan B.

The big news in the village is that someone has bought the lease of the pub and plans to open soon.  No hint of when soon might be, and sadly they are changing the name of the pub too (I wonder if I could persuade them that is bad luck?), but it will be good to have something happening in the village during the next long, dark months of late autumn and winter.  I'll keep you posted!