Room with a view

18 April 2018

The dépendance, that is, with it's new Velux.

Of course, the official reason for installing a skylight was to improve the ventilation and light, since we are not technically allowed to use the dépendance as habitable space.

But then, did Heidi's grandfather - the alm-Uncle - apply for council permission to put her in her cosy little Heidi-hole? I think not.

So, Tom has worked his magic and has installed a single Velux, and, he says:

"I'm pleased with how it looks, there's a great view from it!"

Now we'll be able to lose the ugly ventilation fan in the apex...

It looks pretty good from the outside too.

Can't wait to see how the dépendance handles the heat in summer, now that the hot air can escape.

Happily, not too long now: I'll be there at the beginning of July, G not far behind.

Well, if you MUST live on the other side of the planet...

18 April 2018

...you can expect to have glitches. Every silver lining has its cloud, after all.

At the end of Feb, an email from Tom, who had been around to measure up for a skylight in the dépendance:

"Someone has smashed into G's picket fence, near the water manhole on the corner of the dependence, it looks like it has been down for a while.

Also, I walked around and noticed that one shutter on the rear gable wall (ground floor) was  open and looked like it had been blowing in the wind for a while (this is the door that G repaired in the summer).

On seeing this I got the key from the keysafe to go inside and secure the shutter. Everything looks absolutely fine inside, and how I presume you would have left it, but the door that G fixed was not locked when I went to open it and secure the shutter. 

The shutter won't completely close due to the horrific amount of rain we've had causing it to plume up. It is now secured with a keep virtually shut. I will plane a couple of mm off it when I fit the velux."

Hmm.

We didn't have to wonder too long before our English neighbour 'fessed up and offered to fix the fence.

That only leaves the unlocked door (!), and swinging, unsecured shutter - both facing the worst of the weather, and certainly the shutter visible from the road. It must have looked abandoned there for a while :(

Hmm.

Fast forward to end of March, and John-the-gardener's email:

 "...it seems someone has knocked over the post box and fence."

This time, we got a visual.

Hmm, indeed.

With friend C due to arrive very soon for a visit, and the place starting to look like a junkyard, we asked said neighbour to fix it tout de suite, and the 'tooter the sweeter', to quote Punch (1917). 

The fence was fixed and stained and back to normal within days.

Then, the car wouldn't start for C. J-M offered a spare battery, but the battery charger showed it to be almost fully charged and miraculously, the car started on the second attempt.

Only for it to fail, once again, a couple of days later. This time, J-M was kind enough to lend C his car for an urgent trip to Objat. Then Y (J-M's mechanic brother) came over and cleaned the rusted points (I stand to be corrected, of course) and got it started again. He blamed the bâche for the buildup of humidity, and suggested we leave it off in future. That won't be as hard as keeping it on has proved to be: the wind has torn it right off the car - straps and fixings flailing - on more than one occasion.

These things must come in threes, because the Clio wouldn't start on C's last morning, so he couldn't move the car under the porch, as Y had advised.

Ah well, C will be back in May, and perhaps he can get Y to look at it then.

C's last day also revealed that the broom/mop handle has gone missing. It was there when we left, but apparently Hazel-the-cleaner couldn't find it after our last guest left. When I say 'last guest', I mean that - we've only had one guest, and that will be the last time. I don't count friends in that group.

It's simply not worth the hassle, the cost of cleaning, and all the unexplained curiosities (such as, but not limited to - as they say - the broom/mop handle, the unlocked French door and the unsecured and flapping shutter).

Don't get me started.

Wettest winter in 50 years...

3 April 2018

...and cold, with it.

Well, that's officially a real winter, isn't it? J-M and the locals should be happy - they've been muttering darkly about the absence of real winter weather in recent years, which - they reckon - ruins the harvest in later months.

I guess they might know what they're talking about - they, or their forebears, have been growing things on this land for generations.

So, while we enjoyed the last sultry days of a protracted Sydney summer, La Fromagerie struggled through, dreaming of the benevolence of spring while fastidiously scraping mud from her boots.

John's photos are testament to the growth, and it is gratifying to see.

Since the latest batch of photos always brings on an attack of acute-on-chronic homesickness, I pore over every detail and, of course, want to see things that are inevitably and frustratingly just out of frame. I want to know how every last plant is doing - are there signs of life, buds, flowers, even? Or has the severity of winter cut an unforgiving swathe through all those tender parts?

Have the pink, white and cerise laurier roses (oleanders) grown; do they screen René's pink house a little more? Is the new white Buddleia OK? And what about the two new roses, alongside the dépendance? Has the glycine taken the hint and started to climb the oak frame of the porche?

And then there's my insect hotel - has it survived the punishing buffets of the winter wind?

The Photinia is looking good...

In the photo below, you can see that John has pruned back the hazelnut within an inch, or more accurately 150cm of its life. It's now dwarfed by the wild pear tree. Rumour has it that the vine has been pruned by J-M since the photo was taken ;)

For those of you with nothing better to do than indulge in a bit of armchair gardening, check out the reasonably perky rose and rather bedraggled hortensia in the foreground, and spot the glycine bud creeping around from behind the oak post...and the pink blossoms on the peach tree to the left.

Raymond's house is still à vendre and does not improve with the keeping, if I may say so....The gaura looks a bit winter weary, but the Buddleias and laurier roses are OK. Can't quite make out the dwarf rhododendron in the right foreground...
A $10 meat tray to the first person who notices the insect hotel. It's gratifying to see that it's still vertical, though possibly guest free. 

A random photo of the wild flowers - specifically, cowslip

The bâche is still lying where we left it, weighed down with stones and iron wheel rims. Hopefully, it has suppressed the growth of grass and weeds, so that preparing the herb garden will be easier this summer.

Les taupes s'amusent ;)

As for G, his main focus is 'his' prunier, a rather puny sapling when he planted it in September...

To all you fashionistas out there, I solemnly declare that the offending footwear remains in the garden at all times.  

...and there it is, on the left, valiantly holding its own. Hmm, not sure that it has grown at all, but hey, it's alive!

Next instalment - changes to the dépendance!