The summer of love and pop-up infinity pools

21 August 2019

Love, amour, amor.

OK, you say, we get it, yadayadayada. But why?

Well, assuming we don’t want to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the reason for being, let me explain.

Simples.

Daughter C is getting married to her Argentinian man, L,  and, during the week she spent with us chez nous in France, the conversation veered happily and repeatedly towards all-things-wedding. The date (mid-September), form (civil union, followed by fiesta en casa - See? I'm nearly trilingual), size (intimate)... The ‘save the date’ invites were designed and sent off in PDF form (it's a bran noo world). Much discussion about Argentinian vs Australian expectations, current norms and traditions. A few tears. Even the bride-to-be got emotional at times.

Luckily for us, the Universe delivered a blistering canicule, with temperatures hovering stubbornly in the high 30s and low 40s for days on end; the nights, too, were uncomfortably sticky. But I say 'luckily', because it gave me an opportunity to dust off and inflate the paddling pool. You remember: it made its debut appearance to rapturous acclaim the year we and friend M put in the kitchen cupboards.

At first, G, C and visiting niece L showed a remarkable lack of enthusiasm to engage with our pop-up infinity pool under the pommier, but the extreme heat wore down their defences, as I knew it would. Soon we were sitting, hip deep in the water, glass of chilled rosé in hand, celebrating our resourcefulness and pitying those less fortunate than ourselves. You know, with aircon and/or zero imagination.

Lucky, too, that, being early in the season, we were spared the sudden splash-down re-entry of little green apples. Mostly.

Struggle Street

On one particularly cosy day - the forecast maximum undecided between 41 and 42 - C, G and I chose the coolest thing we could think of to escape the heat. We spent most of the day in Brive, shopping for The Dress. Locals shake their heads knowingly when you tell of this folly: the Bassin de Brive is notorious for trapping heat. Noone in their right mind would brave the hot, bright (though charmingly cobbled) streets of Brive city centre during a heatwave. C’est fou! Dingue!

Mais, quand même, we three did just that. G came and went, meeting up with his ‘gals’ at various intervals, until he finally just gave up the unequal struggle and lurked in the shade to await A Decision.

G modelling impeccable posture in Brive centre

Weddings - what can I say?

Our tenacity and fortitude were eventually rewarded when, having tried on countless dresses, C found a dress TDF, in a very exclusive boutique. I'm here to report that G displayed unnatural calm throughout the payment process. It must have been the heat.

Later, I, too, found my outfit, in another schmancy boutique. G seemed very happy for me.

This is not it :)

It was a summer of love in all its many forms: family, friends, good food, good life.

* Niece L came to stay for the first time at La Fromagerie and her visit overlapped with that of daughter C. There's nothing quite as special as family: there's no ice to break, and no need to stand on ceremony; the elapsed time between visits dissolves and it all feels comfortingly familiar.

* Friends M and D came to stay and toiled uncomplainingly on my Dead Hedge project, despite never quite understanding the concept :)

Heath Robinson and friends make a start on the Dead Hedge

Football? Yawn

* We indulged ourselves left, right and centre with yummy food and drinks.

Une tarte au framboise, or, a Life's Too Short to Deny Oneself flan

Rosé Juillacoise

Ooh, our coffee-making skills are on the up and up

* We had new local livestock scampering in and out of the cabane next door.

Naww

Two of the three kittens showed more confidence - #3 hiding was hiding in the gloom

* This was the Year of the Pergola, remember? It's a fantastic new addition to the barn and we liked it more and more as time went on.

At first, it was a bit stark...

Artsy photo by daughter C

...but soon we got going and planted up climbers around the posts - glycine, grapes, roses, clematis, chèvrefeuille.

This summer, la canicule meant it was too hot to cope without the Bedouin tent, but come next year...

The concrete bases to the posts were uncompromisingly ugly, but we came up with a cunning plan to obscure them. I've wanted to make gabions forever! Whaddayarekkin?

Just a little corner of floral happiness beneath the pergola

* We zoomed about in a cute little Italian-Riviera rental (don't get me started on why, when we have a perfectly lovely, though capricious, old Renault Clio which - naturally - became reliable as anything when the Fiat came to stay - eye-roll emoticon).

A perfect work horse...

...but particularly suited to indolent afternoon outings to picturesque towns 

* Our loyal neighbour J-M gave us produce and showed kindness at every opportunity.

* We were truly livin' the dream in France.

La Fromagerie hazelnut 

Says it all, really

The glycine was growing up into the porch roof, so will need to be watched and disciplined

Compare the two photos...and

...spot 10 differences

We never said we were sophistiqué

Fig foraging 

Aix-sur-Vienne dreaming away a hot afternoon

At the end of the summer holiday, I always like to reflect on What We Achieved. This year, the standouts for me are:

* Training the grape vines up and over the pergola wires

Lots of precarious ladder work

* Making the gabions - involving many wheelbarrow- and arm-loads of stones (not as quick and easy at it looks!)

We made the gabions out of stones recovered from the renovation

* The planting of - what was it? - 16 plants around the base of and between the pergola posts

Chèvrefeuille to be trained up vertical chains

* Making the new wildflower patch - involving the removal of the tarp (left in place for two years of weed suppression),  the sowing of wildflower seeds around a donated Acanthus mollis as centrepiece, and the demarcation with old oak roof poutres from the original barn roof

A bit Dodge City, but hey

and lastly - and oddly satisfying -

* Constructing the dead hedge, for prunings and dead wood, which should reduce the car loads taken to the déchetterie - involving labour-of-love weaving with La Fromagerie hazel switches.

At first, simply a parallel row of sturdy posts to contain the wood

Hazel switches cut from our own noisetier

On the last day, G rigged up two cctv cameras - one in the barn, trained on the front door, but motion sensitive and capable of reading the thermometer, and one gazing out the shutterless window of the dependance onto a sliver of driveway, barn porch and apple tree.

Already, we have received numerous motion detection alarms, each with 12 seconds of footage, from the dép one. There have been many 'intruders': a spider, a cat, a curious neighbour, a lizard, a little green bug, lightning in the distance, the paysagiste speeding around on his ride-on, and the waving arms of the pommier in a storm.

It's a wonderful connection to the place we call home.

Move over, Monet ;)

Friday 7 June

Some might say I have too much time on my hands. And into those hands a certain App did fall. Yea, verily.

Anyhow, look what said App produced (with zero input - let alone skill - demanded of the App-wielder):

It's addictive.

Gorgeous but unruly, just as we like it

13 May 2019

Friend C is in residence at La Fromagerie as I type, and has sent through some images for our barn-starved eyes to feast upon...

It all looks beautiful, albeit a trifle unruly, just as we like it.

It’s always a tricky balance to achieve: we want Nature to have her way, yet not run so rampant as to restrict our access to the margins of the property. John, our English paysagiste always shakes his head about the unfettered growth he has to deal with at each visit - he spends an inordinate amount of time clearing blades and replacing strimmer cord, and that’s not to mention the sheer volume of biomass to dispose of when he’s done.

And then there’s les voisins, who mutter darkly about les serpents when the grass gets out of hand...

We have, over the years, come to terms with the idea that, like it or not, we have to cut back the so-called 'meadows' (les prés) at least twice a year, if we are to avoid an impenetrable thicket. The grass grows to hip height and forms basal clumps if left alone, and John has often said that the growth at La Fromagerie outstrips that of the other properties he maintains. The local council comes by twice a year to trim the roads verges and hedgerows, and it makes some sense to take our cues from them.

So, the ‘meadows’ now get cut back twice a year, and the ‘paths’ every month in the growing season.
The hope is that, with this schedule, wild flowers will get a chance to flourish without being overwhelmed, while the small fauna in the ‘meadows’ will enjoy mostly undisturbed refuge.

Now that John is temporarily out of action following an nasty accident with a chain saw, we are forced to bring in another, this time local paysagiste.

Fingers crossed the new guy Guillaume will ‘get’ what we are trying to achieve, and won’t attempt to tame and manicure our little wild patch of heaven.

Wild and woolly

Planted last August, hence the Gothic weed mat backdrop

Panoramic view from Juliette balcony

In anticipation of Guillaume's arrival, friend C and I discussed the best access for the ride-on mower. (John doggedly used a strimmer for years, only venturing onto the property on his ride-on in the last nine months.) Access to the upper garden/orchard area is not a challenge - the bank is low alongside the porch - but access to the lower garden needed some thought.

Access from the road at this point was possible when we bought La Fromagerie, but our perimeter plantings deny it now

Back to the drawing board...

Not to scale and woefully inaccurate, but sketched from memory, and at speed

In the end, removal of the last metre or so of the grapevine, at the lower end next to the hazelnut and pear/quince, seemed the most obvious and simplest option. C set about making it happen and sent through before and after shots.

Before (note metal drum with compost to the right of the photographer's shadow)

After - the hazelnut and pear/quince have been trimmed back and the last vine support post and wire have been removed, leaving a vine tendril floating in the breeze

Next, it was a question of relocating the metal drum which was tucked beneath the hazelnut tree and which has been our informal compost heap to date. A new, probably temporary home was discussed and agreed: near Raymond's boundary fence.

Insect hotel and new friend, compost

All ready and poised to supervise and guide Guillaume...C found himself at the agreed time stranded by the capricious Renault in Objat :( Nevertheless, Guillaume came and went in a flash, cut way more than we wanted, and left behind a desolate landscape featuring decapitated mole hills and scalped grass. Points awarded for reliability and efficiency, though. Oh and bonus points for removing the vegetation.

(Stop press: John has announced his impending retirement, so we are in the market for a regular paysagiste...perhaps Guillaume will get the gig.)

Xavier, a local stonemason, has rebuilt the wall that suffered damage in a skirmish with an even-more-local truck 

And now, a sneak peek inside the barn...

Not too shabby

...and a glimpse of the garden's Spring delights (OK, so indulge me, people):

Photinia on ffyre

The broom is stunning

The foot of the terrace, showing some successes, some frost victims

The plum tree has grown, though I hear it has leaf curl :(

Just look at that lavender, those roses, the rosemary (too weighty for its own good)

The corner planting, just about to burst into full bloom, a beautiful oleander in the background

I only planted these little people - including the tufted lavender - last August!

Californian lilac - at its showy best

:)

The glycine clearly needs D for discipline

Lastly, a location shot of nearby sleepy-but-surprisingly-sophisticated Ayen:

Yes, that's right, folks: behind those closed shutters lurk enquiring minds and the ant-curious

Now we await the latest on the car, and then, next month, Tom gets going on the pergola.