livinginfrance – Widow plus woofs

We had another viewing today. An English couple; I know that as they asked me what the large vine that trails over the big red door was just as Alice and I were about to leave them to peruse our beautiful house. It’s a Virginia Creeper I told them, absolutely amazing in early Autumn. I did add a few comments about how most of the houses on the street had the same and wait til you see the marronniers in full blossom and had they noticed all the irises but then cut short my lyrical waxing less eyes glazed over. That and my Border terrier’s insistence on dragging her owner off to take in the Daily Woof otherwise known as verge sniffing. I haven’t had any feedback from the estate agent yet but the prospective peeps were here for over an hour and did throw a cheery wave at me as they drove off afterwards. I don’t know if it was because the sun was out today or that the blasted wind has decided to take a momentary pause but I have a tingle of optimism about this one.

I have no doubt that, like most of us, a decent spell of balm in the weather department, has given rise to this upbeat mood of mine and passing a week gassing with gals and getting on with all sorts in the workbench department. That and an appointment with Dr Lefevre which should have sent a frisson of unease down to my nether regions but oddly didn’t. I’d gone in to ask for what I thought would be a straight forward yes we’ll do that request to remove my ovarian cyst – a cyst I have come to refer to as Olive for no reason whatsoever. Anyway, doc said no, as unless the little blighter was causing pain, I should just let it be for now. I did reiterate the point that 5 centimetres seemed a little big to fit down there in but apparently they can get to the size of oranges before surgery is on the cards. As I said, weirdly okay – a head state probably boosted by spending so much time with female friends who don’t fuss unlike Denis who is worse than me when it comes to reading too much.

I suppose I should thank the arrival of Spring in terms of its Equinox for lifting the spirit too and making one just want to get on with things. The afore-mentioned Alice got a good going over with the clippers and her son Sherman a couple of hours with yours truly stripping his winter coat out. He’s always gorgeous but more so now and not just because he no longer resembles a bog brush but also behaved impeccably when I took him over for a play date with my mate Jude’s little Cavalier puppy – he didn’t once cock his leg on her pristine cream sofa suite or dig a hole under fence. The woofers do like to surprise me. Oh, and I finally finished the snake pot. I have to be honest, I wasn’t overly thrilled with the result at first but as I have had a fair few wows and requests for more custom designed terrace terracotta, its grown on me, or coiled itself. Mind you, I’ve still got a load of ex-chandelier pieces to finish wrapping and a gratefully donated lilac branch to whittle into something whimsical so plenty to keep the mind mellow. Might also have some news next week too, fingers crossed…

“Spring is the time for plans and projects” (Leo Tolstoy)

I’ve pulled a fair few late-nighters over the past week and not because I’ve been frolicking into the wee hours. Nope, I glued myself to the laptop and worked my fingers to the bone tap tapping away at The Second Book. Deciding to focus for once on getting the opus finished before the summer is a great idea in principle but this means penning 3 chapters a month and that’s flipping hard work. Bringing up the past takes a toll on one’s emotions even if this time around, it’s about a new life in a country that I adore. I seem to have forgotten how difficult those early years here were, starting again without Tony by my side. But determination is my middle name and frankly, there are so many other projects to get done – ones I’ll actually enjoy doing.

Like pottering around my little serre for example or getting the huge party-dome down at Le Jardin redone so it’ll be ready for its grand opening in April. Abraham and I actually took some time out from our plots and went over to L’Horte to have a gander at what Nicolas and Severine have been up to. For those who aren’t regular blog readers, the two look after the land with their market garden enterprise as well as raise mini-goats and chickens. Anyway, I wanted to introduce Abraham as they are all in pretty much the same business which I did. I left Nicolas and Abraham to chat about all things green and good for you whilst I took my usual path down to the river to say hello to Pop and then poke around what remains of the surviving house. As you know, L’Horte has always been and always will be, one of the few places where I feel totally relaxed even if, like me what she once was and what she is now are strangers to each other. As I looked across the terrain and up towards the hills behind the property, a thought passed through my zoned-out brain. 4 years ago I was living in London, a city that wears stress like a second skin and now my home is surrounded by vines and beautiful views of the countryside. And even though I don’t have Tony to enjoy it with me, I’m lucky to have found Denis – my man who knows his onions when it comes to anything about his little piece of France.

And no he didn’t hand me over a bunch on Valentine’s day. Instead he bought me some heart-shaped goat’s cheese and a single rose – I’m easy to please when it comes to cheese. And he knows me well enough not to flatter me with a dozen red flowers, I prefer my flora to be in the ground not in a vase. Cut blossoms always remind me of chez Knollys being full of them after Tony died. And they die too, far too quickly. As romantic get-aways go, hiking though the forest looking for mushrooms that afternoon might not be too everyone’s taste but foraging for fungi is me to a tee. Except that we didn’t find any, not even the bad ones. The ground was dry and the moss practically non-existent – Denis blamed the local gangs for ripping the place apart but my money’s on the weather. Not nearly enough rain despite a couple of non-stop drip days during the last week and the thermometer is still doing see-saws – that afternoon it was over 20 degrees and blazing sunshine.

Despite the météo still making its mind up as to which month we are currently in, Denis and I made the brave decision to remove the winter wrap from my Mimosa tree. She’s flowering you see and needs to spread her limbs. She’s not the only one, most of the rest of the garden is too – far too early for most but D reckons they’re strong enough to survive a frost or three. I have kept Mimosa’s roots covered though as she isn’t old enough to brave a blizzard. Or anything else the tempestuous temperatures want throw at us before the summer and until that season arrives, I shall keep bouncing the balls of my fingers across the keyboard and try to remember where I am right now…

” It is not easy to walk alone in the country without musing upon something” (Charles Dickens)