endofsummer – Widow plus woofs

I held a dinner party last night. Not unusual I know but there is one that only happens once a year – the annual ‘Sophi arrived in Rouffiac’ knees up. Actually, I didn’t start hosting the do until 3 years ago which co-incidentally was when Denis and I fessed up to our feelings so why not combine two anniversaries over barbecues and booze with best friends. With the long table (borrowed from the mairie) over-flowing with food and multiple conversations in two languages bouncing across bottles, the evening went fabulously even if I almost knocked myself out tripping over a Sherman-sized hole in the garden resulting in a nicely swollen big toe this morning. Mind you, I could blame that on my rather effervescent dance moves or on the wind. The weather stayed warm but blowy, so much so that paper plates had to remain loaded lest they ended up on next doors pool.

I suppose one could say the evening’s entertainment also marked the end of summer. That and the distant sound of gunfire. Yes, the chasse is back. And a reminder that it won’t be long before it is time to dig out the trainers once more and take to the hills. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the pre-dawn alarm; I’ve got a bit lazy when it comes to getting out of bed but the canine crew and I need the exertion now that our pool is a little too cool. I did go swimming yesterday but I have a feeling that may well be the last time I get the goggles out. Unless I find the wetsuit. It’s funny to think that might well have been the final frolic with this place for sale, I won’t miss the constant cleaning though or the ‘what’s wrong with you know’ stress. Walking around the vast wooden deck with my mate Christophe last night, he asked if I was going to build another one in the new place. Yes but smaller, I replied, much smaller just like my yet to be house.

Ahh, the dream home. I’m still waiting for the notaire to finish the paperwork on that subject so I can finally fork out the euros and bring in the diggers. A little frustrating but that’s legals for you. On the plus side, the longer the wait the better it is for all the plantings I’m planning to repatriate. Most have to be in dormant mode to be shifted a couple of minutes up the road and I need to plan a bit of landscaping on the plots before that happens. Creating this garden took 5 years so I’d like to be ahead of the game for my next adventure. I’m not taking the potager however, I haven’t been very successful in that horticultural department not counting the slew of spring onions last year. I might just throw a few seeds around and let Nature take its course. Which I did with the seeds Abraham gave me much to D’s horror and now I have a tiny pastèque growing its little heart out. Naturally, I had to show the prized fruit to my guests last night which needless to say led to much amusement on their parts. Yes, it is a tad late in the season for such delicious delights so it’s probably not going to get any bigger but I’m still dreadfully proud of myself. Who knows, maybe next year we’ll be having watermelon for dessert in a different setting surrounded by friends and familiar flora…

“The end-of-summer winds make people restless.” (Sebastian Faulks)

There’s nothing quite like a decent drenching to welcome in a new month so hello September. Okay, I know it’s not technically the end of summer and experience has taught me that we are more than likely to have another heatwave or two before the winter but I am looking forward to seeing the back of this season gone. A statement I shall no doubt regret when the woolies get dragged out from under my bed and muddy paw prints embed themselves over the tiled floors once more. As I write this, Denis is stuck between here and the South Coast having spent the weekend celebrating his great-niece’s baptism, he’s somewhere in the lanes of traffic trying to get home after the long school holiday – I was invited to the celebration but with no-one to mind the dogs or D’s animals, I got out of it. Mercifully judging by the pictures of stagnant autoroutes.

Speaking of D’s brood, there’s been an addition to his non-human family. Gaya the dog, Dolly the cat, Caesar the canary and Gypsy the semi-feral hedgehog have been joined by a tortoise. Denis found him wandering around the front garden and with no-one posting reward posters for the safe return of their roaming reptile, decided to adopt the little creature. The male tortue is as yet still without a name although I have suggested Captain Hilts due to the number of escape attempts. Who knew an animal fabled for its slowness could scale his fenced enclosure so fast? I have to admit I have grown rather fond of Denis’ new companion although having one of my own is out of the question – Arry’s obsession with rocks for starters and Sherman’s penchant for getting into mischief when it comes to anything not canine related for seconds. I accidentally stood on the remains of a hedgehog skin the other day and boy, do those prickles hurt. However it must be said that this one was not a victim of my youngest woofer, these adorable looking spiny mammals regularly murder each other I’m reliably informed.

It’s not that Sherman is a natural born killer, unlike his mum who can rid several hectares of rats in seconds but he is a big lad. A recent trip to the vets with both for their annual jabs had him tipping the scales at a whopping 12 kilos, 4 kilos heavier than Mama Alice. Mind you, as the vet pointed out, my gorgeous lump of a Border terrier is pure muscle – hardly surprising considering he’s best mates with my idiotic German Shepherd.

With Denis being away, I’ve had to do a bit of bicep-flexing myself to hoist the re-conditioned petanque bench into its new home court side. The once tired looking wooden seat is now stripped and varnished and the iron work painted green, typical for the style. It’s a shame all the family have left now that the holidays are over so there’s no-one to enjoy its luxury but I’m sure we’ll have a few more fêtes with friends before the winter comes. And now that almost all the summer jobs have been completed, I can look forward to a new list of ‘to-dos’ – there’s the new extended potager to plant out, the saga of my life needs a second drafting, the outside staircase needs re-painting, the walnuts and almond trees to be harvested, the village map to finish mapping and the old pool liner to replace. Summer’s over kids…

“The end-of-summer winds make people restless.” (Sebastian Faulks)