We’ve managed to survive the first week in our temporary digs as the builders upstairs bash down walls. The renovation is well underway with the main wall separating the living areas a distant memory and the awful blue tiles now piled up in the local dechetterie. Naturally I forgot to order several key elements for my grand design; the front door and a shower being fairly essential. Thankfully everything including the floor tiles can be delivered next week as I’m beginning to miss my home. Frankly it can get a little crowded living in a couple of rooms with the hairy woofers. I’m also itching to get the Christmas decorations out of the garage, it’s nearly December!
The weather is now noticeably colder and with a couple of days of non-stop rain, I’ve been at a loose end in what-to-do’s. So far two bird feeders have been constructed out of old plant pot trays and the wisteria removed from the balcony wall to make way for new solar panels. I think the birds appreciate the effort, I’ve yet to hear what the heating engineer thinks of my contribution. The inner garden guru in me is now focused on clearing the beds in the courtyard and making endless piles of leaves. For future reference, this task should only be undertaken when it is not wet and windy.
Poor Josephine the Jeep had a little bump earlier in the week. My first brand new car and I managed to scratch her passenger door turning into the driveway. In my defence, the roofers working on the house opposite have narrowed the road for their crane but with all the warning beeps Josephine emitted, I should have seen it coming. How my builder gets his truck in and out I have no idea, I think the French have extra lessons in negotiating such obstacles. The blessed Denis reassured me that he has something that will eradicate my sin and I have re-routed my journey to enter the stupid gate from a different angle.
I try and go over to L’Horte daily not only to check on the houses and garage but to say hello to Pop too. Tomorrow’s visit will be a poignant one as it marks a year since Pop passed away. There is something very peaceful about his resting place beneath the oak tree overlooking the river and the land he loved, I could spend hours just taking in the view. I’m sure the same heron flies over every time I walk up the path to Pop’s spot as though it’s watching over him from above, Macgyver and Chrissie keeping guard below…
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” (Dr. Seuss)
Widow plus woofs 