Pre-winter garden blitz

4 November 2016

John was over last week, doing the last blitz before the cold weather hits. The growing season is over, and he won't need to be back until April.

The garden is looking pretty good, despite the months of neglect. Even the plants I put in at the end of August around the base of the new covered porch are looking OK, if a little heat stressed in places.

The wooden posts lying on the ground were from the original barn roof structure. G and I laid them to mark the plantings - hard to believe now!

The pile of stones (from the renovation) is getting smaller...

John gathered up most of the windfall of apples. You can see quite clearly the 'meadow' to the left.

The new plants put in at the end of August; the weed mat not pretty but very effective.

The perimeter plants are really coming along. 

Daughter C and boyfriend A stained the little lean-to and it looks much better.

The new, white gaura in the middle ground has a bit of catching up to do, but it's alive! And isn't that the happiest rosemary bush (right of the white gaura) you've seen in a while?

I demarcated the 'meadow' areas to help John. Next visit, I would like to put in more substantial stakes...

La petite voiture que nous avons acheté :)

More new plantings - ground cover roses and hydrangeas.

The plant grovelling at the foot of the post is a glycine, or wisteria. It could do with support, non?

Appley dappley shaded orchard

In other news, our new (French) plombier (#6) sent his assistant, the bilingual Benôit, to work on the heating and (wonders will never cease), we have had a series of updates from him, the latest of which made us so very happy:

"J'ai fait les travaux à la Fromagerie, le plancher chauffant fonctionne."

Roll on February, when we can do adjustments and pad around in our socks.

The annexe - Update # 34

8 April 2016

We've been waiting with bated breath for news from La Fromagerie. Last night, a brief note from Tom to say that the structure is up, and the concrete pads are done.

That doesn't tell you much, but this might:

We are pleased as punch with the porch so far, and especially with how well it 'talks' to the dépendance. The vertical post above the A-frame will be trimmed back before they start on the roof.

The apple tree doesn't look too impressed :( but will hopefully recover its joie de vivre in time.

Peering at the photo, we can see evidence that the grapevine has been pruned. Not by John, methinks; it's more likely to be the handiwork of a certain neighbour, J-M...

Can't wait for more photos. We should have some interiors soon.

Random images

6 May 2014

Call me weird, but I rather like the view through the side window of the rusty cabine next door.

Misty morning #1

Misty morning #2

These wooden structures were used traditionally to extend a wagon's load capacity. 

Aunt + apple tree

Room for growth, then.

Happy camper #1

Happy camper #2

This old nest perched precariously under the eaves of the dépendance.

The walnut tree stump. Gregg suggested we auction this image of (SpongeBobSquarePants/Mother Theresa/your preferred significant icon here) on EBay...

Always a style trendsetter, I fashioned an apron from rags to save my jeans.

Little red cutie and camera-shy occupant

Des produits locaux

24 April 2014


Forgot to mention in the last post that Vero and Erik gave us their own homemade pork paté, which they made during the winter and which they are storing in vacuum-sealed jars in the cave under their house. On the way home after our lunch with them, we stopped in to see Gregg and Laurie, and were given an antique London gin bottle filled with a type of 'Eau de vie' (like a very young Calvados) made from the apples and pears that Gregg had collected from our trees last autumn. He'd planned (with our permission) to give them to their pigs, but the porkers saw none of the fruit. Instead, Gregg fermented it for some months, and then paid a fellow who travels around and runs a still from the back of his van in various carparks(!) to distill the concoction. It's not for the faint-hearted: at about 55% proof, it has a kick like a mule, but it has a rather naive appley-dappley aftertaste.

After muttering darkly about not achieving with a capital A, I have to admit that we have been on fire these last few days. We are now the proud owners of a shower head, a kitchen sink, and a handbasin for upstairs. Sounds easy, I know, but we have been operating between three separate locations: the studio where we are staying, the barn, and the 2 industrial estates where the big megastores are situated. So, a lot of driving around, and trying to accommodate the 12-2pm dejeuner shut-down makes for interesting logistics.

As I mentioned in my last post, we spent ages in a plant nursery (GammVert) choosing evergreen shrubs that would form a good, informal hedge around the border of the property. Our idea is to screen the road, which passes below the barn, without compromising the view. Picture G standing with tape measure held aloft as I assessed the height from various vantage points: terrace (sitting), terrace (standing), kitchen window, French doors...and then the whole process repeated with me holding tape measure this time.

In placing the plants on the boundary, we have to take into account the neighbours' advice - so freely and often given ;) - that the roads maintenance department tractor will simply decapitate any plants that are deemed too close to the road. Apparently that's what happened to our doomed lavender plants last year...So we are advised to keep them 2m in from the road edge and 4m in from the edge at the intersection. Seems crazy, but I guess if Madame was prepared to leave her sitting room and hobble painfully on her two canes across the road just to remind us yesterday, then it might be worth taking seriously.

Yesterday, after our customary picnic (baguette, chêvre, mandarins, yaourt) on the terrace under the apple tree, we began to dig and plant as if the hounds of hell themselves were at our heels. The sun was shining, we were in shorts and t-shirts, and it was very hot but satisfying work. We worked all afternoon, until the weather changed and we were blinking through cold rain and our buckets of water (filled at shoulder height from a hose through the shower room window) seemed superfluous.

By then, it was dinner time, and we had neither anything planned or prepared nor the energy to cook, so we took our filthy hobbit feet and weary limbs home and after a welcome shower, found a place to get a pizza á emporter.

Needless to say, when they talk about a 3-cheese pizza here, it's emmental, mozarella and our beloved chêvre. Yuuuhhhm, as Mark would say.

Very good Friday

19 April 2014

As G and I drove towards the barn yesterday, I thought I would burst with anticipation. The countryside is in full Spring glory - trees in leaf, buttercups and clover in the fields, birds swooping and sweetly tweeting, bees busy in the hedgerows.  Suddenly, there she was, standing steadfast, high on the hill.

We stepped over the threshold together, into the quiet space and slowly began to make her acquaintance.  Photos are all well and good, but they fail to convey atmosphere. The chunkiness of the stair treads and poles; the height of the ceilings; the light streaming in (even on an overcast day, as it was yesterday); the textures of wood and stone and plaster; the extraordinary view... It was unbelievable, after all this time, to be able to wander about and examine everything at leisure, and alone.

The engineered oak flooring has been laid upstairs, and it is a great choice. The boards look aged and almost as if they've been there for ever. We really like the rustic effect. Apparently Tom et al. were on hands and knees before our arrival, cleaning the floor (with a mixture of oil and white spirit) in anxious anticipation of our inspection!

I especially like the 'nibbled' edges of the boards, which are about 18 cm wide.

Stair and balustrade detail 

Tom's cupboard, which will lie alongside the bath. The red and blue pipes sticking out of the wall are for the hand basin (L) and radiator (R), respectively; the pipes sticking out of the floor are supply and drainage for the bath.

 The floor is still slightly oily, so we had to be careful not to track oily footprints on the still brut stairs. I made a particularly fetching pair of theatre bootees from rags. Orders taken.

Jean-Marie (son of neighbour) had been busy and had mown the grass around the barn, so it felt very welcoming for our arrival. The apple trees are in bloom, even - I should say especially - the St Germain closest to the barn which I fear has been traumatised by the grading and levelling of the terrasse. Perhaps we will get away with it, after all.

Our cream EDF meter box is visible on the roadside, on the perimeter of the property.

The shower room still has a way to go. The waterproof Wedi board (which Charles will tile) is yet to come, so that corner is unfinished. Happily, the room does not feel like a lift shaft, despite the high ceiling.

The cubby hole above the mass of pipes behind the toilet. The idea is that there will be a manifold and two shut-off taps here, one so we can drain the pipe to the outside tap, and one so that we can shut off the water when we are away. Brian and Tom together wanted to surprise us with a little light fixture set in the roof of the cubby, to show off its secret interior depths. Brian was quite disappointed when we discovered it on our own!

No, not a Miro. A Chas. (For the hotwater tank and basin, though G and I must look shorter than we are, as those basin pipes look remarkably low.)

We have quite a bit to do over the next few days: we want to do another coat of paint on the shutters; choose a hand basin for upstairs and a shower head for downstairs; measure up the kitchenette and perhaps find a kitchen sink...

Today we spent time in the hardware shop, gathering brushes, drop sheets, gloves etc for the painting, and it occurred to me: it's an awfully long way to go to get a Bunnings fix!

La fête du premier mai

01 May 2013

On la fete du premier mai (1 May, Labour Day), we bought sprigs of muguet (lily-of-the-valley) and cards, in which we introduced ourselves and, armed with these tokens of friendship and neighbourliness, we went around knocking on the doors of our immediate neighbours in La Fromagerie. The gesture was very well received; most of our neighbours are elderly and all were chuffed to bits by our adoption of this old tradition of giving muguet.

Mme l'Echelle insisted on our coming in to have coffee in her hot, smoky kitchen. Her son, Jean-Marie, got out the china cups from the top cupboard and put biscuits on a plate, and we all sat and sipped on strong, sweet coffee and battled to understand each other's French. Then J-M took us across the road and gave us a guided tour of the fields around the barn. He seemed to know every tree, every plant, and it became clear that he was fond and proud of the place. He showed us the apple, pear, cherry and fig trees, as well as the walnut tree and grapevine, and he pointed out the rows of strawberries already showing tiny little fruits. He showed us how to prune the vine and the apple trees. And he suggested that the meadow could do with a trim!

Later that afternoon we were working hard on the ivy around the dependance; really working up a sweat, when the silence of the afternoon was disturbed by the voices of a bunch of people walking up the road. Several couples and a child working off their feast day lunch, we assumed. They stopped to talk to the neighbours and then, one by one, they came round the dependance to say hello. Turns out that one was Ivan, J-M's brother, and the second son of Mr and Mme l'Echelle, who, with his wife Edith and daughter Oceane, live in the next hamlet. They were all incredibly friendly and curious about our plans. I think they think that we're mad. Who in their right mind would spend money on a barn? Better to tear it down and build a new house!

Ivan insisted that we join them for dinner, to celebrate with them the holiday. So, after having cleaned up a little in the icy cold water of the puit nearby, we drove up the hill to the next hamlet.

That evening deserves its own post.