The beginnings of Spring?

I think Spring may be on its way. From having a garden which looked brown and wintry I now have;

a little band of purple crocus,

Groups of miniature daffodils

And best of all, pussy willows, to me a true Spring thing.

Whys and wherefores.

Someone recently asked me 'WHY?'

Why had we decided to live in France?

Difficult question.

For us, it started as a holiday love affair with the country. Every possible half term or school holiday was spent somewhere in France, exploring a new region or revisiting old haunts. We stayed in funny little gites in the Lot Valley, in timber clad cottages in Normandy, in small hotels and grand Chambres d'hotes in Alsace, and in a mountain house in the Pyrenees.

We decided to see if we could buy a small cottage just for holidays, in Brittany as that was easily reachable from Cornwall . We came over for a five day house hunt, and found just what we wanted, on the edge of a small village. In those days, once you had signed the papers there was no going back. Nowadays the buyer is given seven days to back out of the purchase. It's a much safer system than in UK.

Our cottage needed renovating........what didnt in those days? We were younger and fitter, and had a small caravan that we left in the garden. Every possible holiday was spent in the cottage, getting to know our lovely neighbours (who hadnt met many English before), and working with local artisans to restore the lovely longere that we had bought. At that time there were only two British families in the village......now there are twenty plus, though many are trying to leave due to the huge fall in income with exchange rates being what they are.

When we retired we decided to take the plunge and move out to France permanently, to be part of the wonderful health system and to integrate as far as we could with the community. Fortunately my French is pretty adequate, though I have learned so much from listening.

What do we miss? Of course there are downsides. I'm a realist. There are too many ex patriots who denigrate England and think their new country is perfection. Nowhere is perfection.

We miss the English habits of dropping in for Coffee, for a quick informal lunch. We miss books, as does everyone. Now after many years, the supermarkets are beginning to stock not only English food but books also, at a price. We miss our families and our old friends too, especially in times of illness or trouble. We are so fortunate to have a thriving Anglican Church not far away, where we can be regular communicants and take part in the fellowship and the worship..

The English have begun to 'colonise' France. There are English shops, tearooms, we have English Television, many more French people speak English, they say they have to as there are so many English needing help with buying, with translating etc.

I wonder what the French really think of the invasion? They are so polite, they say they like the fact that the English have renovated so many of the old properties that otherwise might have fallen down. But I wonder................

Birthdays, Bordeaux and other things.

A birthday gift should be special, thought Piglet.



Here is the cross stitch mentioned in my previous post, beautifully framed, and much appreciated by my friend. It went up on the wall of the Salon immediately, and fortunately was of just the right colourways for the room.

I believe that to give something that you have made yourself is to give a small part of yourself to the receiver. That's why, for special friends, and for special birthdays, I try to create a cross stitch or maybe a quilted cushion. My mother always taught me that it was the effort you put into something that showed the value......which was just as well as some of my earlier efforts were not altogether beautiful!

This is the bridge over the river into Bordeaux, which is where we spent the birthday day. We two ladies made hot foot for a beautiful patchwork shop, Saperlipo, hidden in a maze of little streets, tucked away in a tiny alley. Opening the door we were confronted by an Aladdins cave of fabric, of quilts, ribbons, buttons, patterns......... We spent a very happy hour choosing, refusing, hunting, matching, and finally buying.





What a wonderful city Bordeaux is. The tramlines that took years to build are now criss crossing the city. the River runs in its stately way , dividing one side from another. Some of the most gracious houses look out over the water, many of them now turned into apartments. I often wonder about the original owners and their families.

Now we are back home, and busy on the next project. Seven hours drive away, Bordeaux continues to give pleasure to the many who visit.

Travelling.

Wwe're on the road again, off to another region of France, the Lot et Garonne.

From slightly North of Rennes we will be driving to slightly East of Bordeaux.

Bags are packed.

Plants watered.

Beds made for house sitters.

House slightly tidier than normal.

We are going to visit friends, to help celebrate a special birthday. This is what I am taking with me as a present. Just a little cross stitch, which has now been framed, to go in their new house.

Special birthdays need special presents, hand made with love!

Fire

Our French firemen, or Sapeurs Pompiers, act not only as firefighters, but also as emergency ambulances, going out with qualified medics when necessary.
One of their vehicles came howling through town this morning, blue lights flashing, sirens blaring. They may have been en route to an accident, to a fire, I didnt know which.
But it made me think again of the horrors in New South Wales.
I spoke to my son this morning. He lives in a town a little North of Sydney, and his voice grew grave as he told me of some of the terrible happenings in Victoria.
Apparently the heat from a fire 30 metres high will travel four times that in length, so it is almost impossible to outrun. He told me of a couple who left their hillside home to go to the airport to fetch their daughter. As they reached the bottom of the hill, they looked up and saw a fireball roar over the top of the hill, engulfing their home and those others nearby. They were fortunate. They escaped. Imagine how different it would have been if they had not had to go to the airport. It is almost impossible to imagine that horror, that

terror of being in the path of something so unstoppable, so vicious as fire.

The people of Victoria, and the families who anxiously wait for news, need our prayers. So too do the brave men who go out to fight these terrible fires. Now more than ever we must support them, in one of the worst disasters Australia has had to face.

There is a practical way to help also that I have just discovered on a fellow stitcher's blog. Take a look at this group, a Flickr group, and if you are a stitcher, make a quilt block to be sent to Australia, where it will be made into a quilt.

Parsnip soup.

Parsnip soup.

I've got to admit that I dont like parsnips in any shape or form. I will eat them, preferably roast, but they are just not my favourite root vegetable. (Just as an aside, Parsnips have only recently been recognised in our area of France. A few years ago if one had asked for 'Panais' seeds there would have been looks of blank incomprehension, but now they are becoming available. Even some of the supermarkets have them.)

But there we were this morning, horrible rainy day, and husband looking pleadingly at me, bearing a large bucket of home grown parsnips. His favourite vegetable.

Home grown onions, parsnips, butter, teaspoon of curry powder, chicken stock, cream.......(oh so good for the cholesterol levels), and there we are, large pot of Soup.

Enough for today, for tomorrow, and to freeze. Can't escape the Parsnips. But isnt it good to know that we grew everything that went into the soup.


I am so grateful to be married to a man, an ex farmer, who loves making the garden work for us. He is indeed a man who uses his God-given talents to the best for his family.
We are steadily working through a freezer full of green vegetables, fruit , tomatoes in every shape and form.
Just occasionally my ingenuity runs low when confronted by another bag of frozen spinach/purple sprouting/broad beans/you name it it's in my freezer. However, creativity comes to the fore, and we eat deliciously.

Lunch.

What to do on a cold and very rainy day? The whole of Europe seems to be enveloped in beautiful snow.........but not Brittany. so when friends came for the day we did the sensible thing and went out for lunch.

Our nearest town has an excellent hotel, Le Cheval Blanc, or as a dear and slightly forgetful old friend calls it 'The white cow'.Naturally, ever since she produced her mis-translation the hotel has been known by that name.

For some years the hotel went through a grim period and lost most of its custom. Recently taken over by a dynamic team of young hoteliers it is sometimes difficult to get a table there, such is its popularity. The welcome is warm and genuine, enquiries as to health are made.....and a complimentary 'Kir' is brought for the four of us. What an excellent start. David knows how to keep his clients.

The menu du jour is always good and at 12 euros for three courses isnt badly priced. The plat du jour today was Fish in a veloute of Mussels, eaten by three of us. One had a steak, equally good. Tempted by chocolate mousse or Creme brulee, we ended with a tiny cup of good coffee, and braved the rain to come home.

We were delighted to hear that David was hoping to begin renovating the next door building to extend the hotel, adding nine more bedrooms to the existing ten. He very sweetly explained that not only did all the bedrooms have bathrooms, but he was told that British people liked a tray for morning tea, so he would make sure that all bedrooms had one!

Phone calls

Phone calls;

Hello Mum. It's 40 degrees here (Sydney). It's the worst heatwave we've had for years. Thank goodness we've got the pool. How's your weather?"

"Hi Mum. Well, we had another fall of around twelve inches of snow here (Canada) last night. I'm fed up with shovelling the beastly stuff. Only another three months till Spring. how's your weather?"

" Hi Dad. Gosh it's cold here (Manchester). Did you see the snow on the news? How's your weather?"

"Hello this is your brother in law. Just called to let you know we had three flakes of snow yesterday here (Hampshire). How's the weather in France?"

"Hello again. We were a bit worried seeing you at Church this morning (France) and thought you looked very tired. Anything we can do?"

Heave deep sigh.

Disconnect phone.