Stitch, stitch, stitch.....

The Bell Pull is what I hope to achieve..............................soon!

I'm making this as a Silver Wedding gift, and in the hearts I'm going to put the initials of the couple, and the date of their wedding 25 years ago. I have some tiny silvery beads to use for the flower centres, which will give an interesting look.

The pattern is from Jane Greenoff's Country Cross Stitch chart book, and works so well. I did this some years ago for a golden wedding, with the 'ribbon' in gold. I've also sewn the hearts as separate pictures and used them for a special card.

So far I am three quarters of the way through. The anniversary is in October, but before that I want to send it away to have it professionally mounted as a Bell Pull. I guess I could do that , but........!

Each heart represents a Season. Winter is the next one, and that is the last of the hearts. Then comes the placing of initials, dates, the beading, and generally tidying up. I so hope it is finished in time.

Purple garden glimpses.

We have been invited to give some glimpses of the purple in our gardens today.

The Scabious, more pink than purple in the photo, is a new plant and is just beginning to flower, to the delight of the bees.

The Clematis did not want to flourish early in the Summer, in fact decided to languish. So it was cut back, given a hefty dose of manure....and here it is!

The pansies are from last Summer, and have seeded themselves all over the garden. The butterflies love them.

The Blackberries..can you count them as Purple? Certainly the juice on my hands is purple. Jam making looms!

And an award

I have been honoured with another award.
Thank you Melissa for sending me this. I believe it was created by a lady whose son has had a heart transplant.
I'm sending the award on to Casdok at 'Mother of Shrek', who well deserves it.

Melissa has a sweet blog called Sunbonnet Cottage, do visit her there.

Idyll? (A serious moment)

Recently there have been many comments about the 'idyllic ' life we lead here. Now, the last thing I want to do is to spoil any one's perceptions...but..........



It's often thought that if one lives in another country , particularly France, that life is somehow magical and different. This is promoted heavily by all the Television programmes , such as 'Build a new life', 'A life in the Sun' etc, which tend to show people living their dream. Or not.



Let's be honest, some times the dream doesnt work. Many people move to another country without doing the research on taxes, charges, costs, language, building laws, health systems and so on. Even if you think you have covered everything, there is sure to be a 'new law' or a rule you hadnt expected.



Yes, life is more peaceful in France. the traffic is not as heavy as in England, we are a much larger country with about the same number of inhabitants as in UK. But life is still, well, life.

You still need to go to the supermarket, do the housework, cultivate a garden, drive long distances to where you want to go. You need to be able to talk to your Doctor, pharmacist, physio, hospital specialist...in French mostly.



I'd hate to spoil anyone's ideas of a life in the French country side, and I try to give glimpses of the way and the different styles of life here, but, it is still, just life. Peaceful, tucked away, old fashioned with old values, but still.........everyday life.

Just a quick picture of my other glowing Begonia.

When it was first planted it didnt look enthusiastic about growing at all.

Eventually it made the decision to outdo all the other pot plants, and just keeps growing and flowering.

What a joy.

A perfect end to the day

The sun kept shining, the air was the warmest I've known it for months.
The garden was full of furry bumble bees and butterflies all flocking round the lavender, which must have been giving out a high level of scent on such a hot day.
The pool beckoned round about 4pm, and the water was gorgeous, warm enough to make it a long lazy swim, not so warm that it was uncomfortable.
And then.........my husband announced "I feel like going out somewhere on the coast for dinner". I'm always happy to agree with that feeling, so we headed off to Larmor Plage, one of our favourite beaches about 35 minutes away. The little restaurants line the beach walkway, and we have our favourite, 'La Folie Douce'. Sitting so we could look out over the beach, we watched, we wondered, who was that? what were they doing? were they on holiday? Le tout glamorous youth swayed by, bronzed girls in teeny skirts and strappy tops, young men elegant in Capri pants, sunglasses rather self consciously on head. Children played on the beach, and were still playing at 10 pm, kites flown by Papas, still jumping in and out of the water. Grannies and Grandpas strolled arm in arm along the walk, smiling at friends. A microcosm of our little world was there. (Click on the photos for a better look).


Meals on the coast always feature fish of our region and my husband had the best Bass he's ever had, but he always says that, so......
Tiny dark coffees accompanied by miniature chocolate mousses finished a lovely meal, and we wandered back to the car, very happy.
when we got home it was stil warm enough to share a cognac on the terrace, by the light of a 'mosquito' candle, and draw in the scents of the Nicotiana and the Night Scented Stock.
Yes, a perfect end to the day.

I'm tempted to put a sign on the front door, saying 'OUT'.
The day is so hot, the sun is shining.
No writing this morning , just outside enjoying my terrace. Too hot to work in the garden itself, so maybe a good book, or the new copy of my magazine Country Homes and Interiors? Long cool glass of lime. Ice cubes clinking.
Maybe a small plate of smoked salmon for lunch? With ,of course, that which we do not call Lettuce any more...no, it is now 'micro leaves'. We have rows of the things, and quite fun they are too, spicy rocket, little beetroot leaves, which we could have picked off the beetroot plants rather than growing the things specially. But these free packs of Salad leaves came with Gardeners World, so why not enjoy them?

The Begonia wanted to be photgraphed this morning, blushingly.

Quilt giveaway

I've recently noticed how many people have generous giveaways. there are so many who offer little articles stitched with love, bags, jewellery and other things.

Today there is a quilt giveaway from Dana at oldredbarnco ,in USA. All one needs to do is leave a comment on her blog, and a quilt could be on its way. The giveaway closes tonight (22.07.08) at midnight (USA time)

She has already had over 2000 comments!

I have at last managed to make a link to another person's blog!!

La Boulangerie.

Our favourite baker/patissier is away for three weeks

ho

liday. I always wonder why they choose this time every year to have their time off, as it is of course one of the busiest times. Tourists arrive in our towns around mid July and increase over the August period.
However, Louise and her husband never seem to stop working, up at 4.30 in the morning to start the day's baking, open till 7.30 in the evening, and all day Sunday too. They take one day off a week, so one cant begrudge them a holiday.
On a normal day the queues are outside the boulangerie from around 11 am. Get there early and the bread is still deliciously warm, soft and SO eatable....munchings from the end of the baguettes are normal in our family. And can you taste those warm buttery croissants...dipped into a cafe creme in the cafe across the road!
The variety of loaves is amazing now. Of course there are shelves of Baguettes, which the French carry away by the armload, but now bakers are experimenting with Pain complet, a brown loaf; Pain a l'Italienne, an olive oil bread; Pain au Mais, a loaf with bits of sweetcorn in; and various other newish ideas.
In the shop yesterday was a small elderly rather handicapped lady. There wasn't a murmur as the queue waited whilst the assistant foraged in the lady's purse to get the right money out, came round the counter to help her pack the wheelie basket, and then wheeled it out to the pavement for her. A chorus of 'Have a good day, Madame' followed her. How friendly.

Something our Boulanger does extremely well is Patisserie, those wonderful fruit tarts, macaroons, brownies, eclairs and so many mouth watering goodies. Why bake a tart when you can buy a delicious just made Apricot or Apple tart?
It's a good idea not to look at the array, it is very hungry- making.
All over France these little family bakers exist, work hard, and provide so much for the communities. Not least the opportunity to catch up with the day's news, as the chat, the gossip is eagerly awaited. But, that's part of life here, take time to do things, talk with your neighbour (as opposed to putting a knife in him), enjoy the person to person contact that we seem to nourish in our small rural communities.

The games we play

Rather a dark photo, but it was taken in an evening, and the Boules pitch is under the trees.

Summer has arrived when the Boules season starts. The pitch is carefully swept, overhanging branches are trimmed, the score card is put up, and the matches can start.

There are usually six players most evenings. This is the game of Boules Bretonnes, not the Petanque version that most people know. The boules are made of wood or composite, are larger than the metal petanque ones, and they are rolled towards the target, not thrown.

The rules are so archaic that my husband, even after playing for many years, still cant understand them all. When things become heated the neighbours relapse into Breton anyway, which unless you are a Welsh speaker , is totally 'foreign'.

The fun lies in the fellowship with our neighbours. I was asked to introduce them by another blogger, but I think that would be overstepping the privacy rules. So I would just say that they are lovely people, many of whom have lived their whole lives here. They live simple lives, mainly centred around their vegetable plots, where everything for their table is raised. Very often they will keep a few chickens, or a sheep or two.

It is the custom to bring a bottle to the boules match, in turn. Murielle, who lives by the boules pitch, always brings out little glasses, each one with a little mat to cover it, with a name printed on it ("So how exactly do you spell your strange English name??")

Needless to say, it is on these evenings that all the local gossip is relayed....men are just as gossipy as ladies, I've learned. But it is all harmless, and the game is the important thing. Long may groups like this last.

And the finished product.

Everything ready, Apricots bubbling gently in the preserving pan, together with half a lemon. Preserving sugar waiting. Several little jamjars washed, sterilized and warming in the oven.
I love the end bit, when the jars are full, labelled and sitting on the cupboard shelves ready to eat.

This Summer I have made strawberry and raspberry jam, using our own fruit. Sadly it isnt warm enough to grow Apricot trees here, though at our last house in the Gironde we had a beautiful Apricot, which produced masses of fruit every year.
And here are the jars full of jam. Task over for the day. a kitchen that smells delicious, and a husband wondering if there just might be a bit to taste!

Apricot jam day

This is for no reason at all, except that they are beautiful, the sun is shining, and the garden is glorious today.

I'm very busy making Apricot jam. Apricots are big and sweet right now, and I want to catch them at their best. It is lovely in the dead of Winter to have a little jar of jam with the taste of summer. On toast. Mmm.

The Fest Noz

This is the season of the Festival in Brittany. This isnt remotely like anything in England. It isnt a Fete as we know it. It isnt a festival. There arent very often stalls and things for sale, except Beer. With the coming of so called Summer, so the towns and villages all have their individual evenings of dancing, singing, eating enormous pig/sheep roasts, and generally knowing how to enjoy themselves.

When we first came to our little village fifteen years ago, the festival was at the end of our lane. Now it has drifted off to another village, sadly. All day long ladies were busy with huge cauldrons, filling them with meat, potatoes, carrots and onions, the smells of which drifted down the lane enticingly. Tables were laid out in a small marquee in the field, and the mobile band lorry rolled in at about 6 pm.

We gathered at the Marquee, we two newcomers not knowing what to expect, and were greeted , placed at a table with our neighbours and given a plate of 'la soupe'. That was really the broth in which the meats had been cooking all day. Mounds of bread were passed cheerfuly around, glasses were filled, and the meal got under way. Soup was followed by the Pot au Feu, absolutely delicious and piled high on plates, followed in its turn by cheeses..more slices of bread. And finally, Breton Far, which is in a class of its own. How to describe it? Imagine a solid (very) custard, possibly with prunes in, cold, sliced. Once eaten , never forgotten.

The evening continued with Breton dancing. The band warmed up on their mobile bandstand, fiddles played, accordions ground out music and the whole village came alive. The dances are mostly done in a circle, decorously holding the little finger of the person next to you. The most fascinating thing was that everyone of all ages joined in, teenagers, babies, elderly grannies..it was a totally inclusive event. So lovely to see the fun, hear the laughter, and to see young people doing what many English would call 'old fashioned' things. Needless to say , we had to join in too, and soon picked up the steps which are reminiscent of Country dancing.

Some of the larger towns have festivals with full Breton costume. Some have a Mediaeval Fair. Others have a wonderfully showy Mass in the local church first, and then join together for lunch, and a game of Boules.

It is rural France at its best.

More roses....

You know how I love my roses...how I go on and on about my roses actually! Well, this week has been the week of gales here in Brittany, and I'm sad to look at my lovely plants, lying down, bent over, petals whirling in the wind. I've taken photos quickly today before the plants are blown into oblivion. And this is summer?

I have had to cut my Graham Thomas rose down and bring the blooms indoors. I love the sunny yellow of the flowers, but there is very little perfume.
Every year this rose is one of the first to bloom and is such an old favourite.

The red pillar rambling rose is Excelsa, and came with me in the shape of a cutting , three years ago. The problem now is to stop it taking over all the space there is. It just wont stop growing!

The dainty little apricot and cream rose is Ghislaine de Feligonde, a grand name for a little rose. She has the most exquisite perfume and when I'm near her in the garden it is delightful to breathe her in, as it were.


I have a garden full of my roses, my passion! I heard on Gardeners World that the Rose is the nation's favourite flower. It certainly is mine.

An award

I cant believe I've been sent another award! Thank you so much Connie at 'Living Beautifully', it is a big surprise! When one rambles on about life in general, with nothing very particular to say, it is always so nice to know that people actually enjoy reading the words!

I have to pass this on to some more people, but I dont know quite how to make links, not being a very clever computer person.

So I'll just have to give names;

Mary at Across the Pond, who writes so evocatively about her life as a 'Brit' in another country.

Milla at Country Lite because she makes me laugh.

Anne at En Belle France, because I love her quilts descriptions.

Barb at French Elements, because I love the thought of handmade cosmetics.

Dee Dee at Love White linen for always having beautiful photos and interesting stories.

Frances at 'City Views, Country Dreams, for such a fascinating portrait of New York.

There are links in my 'Places I like to visit' list. Thank you all of you, I enjoy reading all you write.

Coming home

This is what we 'sailed' back to France in, the Pont Aven, Brittany Ferries newest boat. Not that one could call it a 'boat', such is its size. It's more like a small liner, and I'm sure would make a wonderful cruise ship.
Brittany ferries have been criticised for expensive pricing , but they are very efficient when dealing with the less able. The car is given a special sticker, met by a stewardess who then guides the person, in this case my husband who has a heart condition , to a nearby lift. Much to his delight.....she was a very pretty stewardess..... she then took us right to the cabin door, and promised a trip in the service lift on landing.
Someone described the Pont Aven as having almost too many shops. Extensive shopping would indeed be possible, if one chose . Cinemas seemed to be offering at least three of the latest films. There is a swimming pool, with activities for children. It's a very smart boat, with bright carpets , little seating areas, a piano bar, and probably all sort of other things that we didnt see. We just opted for a very good lunch in the attractive Dining room, a brief stop to buy newspapers and books, and then lazed in a roomy cabin for the rest of the trip.
We'd be no good on a proper Cruise, I'm sure.