Looking at Ageing Wood Patterns

I am enamoured with the ambiance of this street in all weathers... the acoustics can be quite remarkable as also is the way the street absorbs and holds an aroma of flowers from time to time. But look down at the base of doors and one finds beauty in the old and not in need of restoration!

Oh ...someone decided to paint a door white, hence modern starkness contrasts with neglect.

Repairs create neatness

A concrete wood pattern is strange...

An Evening with Watery Reflections

An Evening Stroll below a Marvellous Mighty Stronghold of Former Days

Five year anniversary

I have owned my first French property five years today... and WHAT IS MORE... I have mostly stopped crying!!! YAY... Maybe, there will be another five years as I have promised myself 'no escaping yet'!!! ... and even though, at times I yearn to return to 'a homeland', this is now my home.  I wish to make it more so.
I have regained independence and some of my old strengths.  I am not ashamed of dependence on others for their support, love and care, however distant they are around the world...friends, cousins, kith and kin. I welcome those who can renovate and repair for I am unskilled in such matters. I make a good skivvy. However... Just a few days ago, I found the correct allen key and managed to get the toilet lid and seat correctly aligned so that it was not falling apart, which it dd, in the course of trying to get the whole-damn-thing back to being self-closure. About half way through the task, when I started to sob a teary eye,  I felt as if I could stick my head down the loo, flush the system and drown!!! "Would that solve the issue?"  I asked myself.   NOPE!  Then I managed its intricate ways!  I DO delight in the way a toilet seat slowly descends. Gently I say to those who bang the lid!!!! 

 Five years ago one part looked like this:
My house was purchased after the death of other dear human souls. I was destined to be the owner occupier.  Now the roof has been replaced with new windows in it and the lucarne. The guttering is different. I love my new roof. The roofers were so kind, patient and tolerant.  In the near future I am hoping that the brown kitchen window and door will be improved!

Almost at the beginning of this blog is a posting about the signing day on 30 April 2010 with a pic of me looking happier than I had for several years.  I was in disbelief when 'a little bird' told me 'bon courage'...  I certainly needed that! Then within a few weeks it was all change! 

Now, 2015...the transformed front courtyard garden will be lower maintenance and more joyful!
Today I am ecstatically happy to hear the nightingale and cuckoo. I love April and May!

almost done, more done since the photo date, and more to do!!!!

Currently, house and garden maintenance, administrative tasks, CLEARANCE of clutter and possessions in the ATTIC, kitchen replacement and other things on the TO DO list are somewhat overwhelming!
I am mostly happy to live here. It is my success story against adversity and struggle and am in good health.
The Future: Living is Hard Work but hopefully there will be more opportunities for playtime! I am lucky in many ways.




 

So Proud

This evening after a day of cleaning, clearing, walking around house and garden, putting stuff into its rightful place, I just walked at apx 4 km per hour or maybe slightly less... the fastest for this route along 'the vineyards of Remerle", down the ravine of "The American Way" along the water's edge, up the stony cobbled way of La Cueille, where once rain was allowed to cascade down the hill for women to wash the linen-o, to home without stopping for anything, nor passing a soul!  It was 45 minutes door to door! Quickly recuperating an easy breathing rate but sweating on account of so many wintry layers, the glass of red and a bath was heaven!
So proud knowing that I am not fit.
BUT WHAT I DO KNOW is that at 1. 50e per day for supplements I am beginning to be back in touch with that former dynamic self. Watch this space.

Broken willow tree

Evening spring warmth and light
brings me to the risen river
swollen with clear rushing water.

Purple violets here and there
raise their heads to feel the air
church tower ding dongs the hour.

Here I sit near broken willow
stood majestically tall six long winters ago
where I sat with a Lover for a Christmas dinner in snow.

Our barbecue winter four course meals, whatever the weather
unfashionable, until others as mad as us, announced it 'de rigeur.'
Then it was, that willowy tendril garlands decorated our day to tumble on us there.

Willowy strands reminded us, kept us in touch
with the geographical history of man
but Nature does not stay;
willowy tendrils like love can be broken
as all things pass,
whilst the River and Water of Life flows on and on
carrying flotsam and jetsam.

Walking on
found jazz on a 2cv.
A party.
A glass of white wine and company.
Society.
I am alive.
Like willow I can regrow.

This winter broken

with still an eye to view

the barque

the chateau

the church

Thank you willow tree.

Far and near a witches' rock

I love this view ... not realising before that I could capture so many rooftops.

Shepherd or Vineyard Worker Huts - Posting One

In the very local surroundings of my village, Angles sur L'Anglin, you may discover on private land, or along a chemin, the vestiges of ancient dry stone wall buildings that have a small entrance.  Evidently, they are found only in this region and in Provence.  Several years ago the Office du Tourisme conducted a tour of these on one of the Patrimoine days, therefore, I am reporting what I understood when my French language skills were poorer than they are now!  I know where many of them are, and as far as I can remember there are no more than 20 or so.   I shall do further homework as I am not exactly sure of their title.  However, this is a post posting sentence; they are called 'Loges' but in Provence are called 'Bories'.   They were built to shelter shepherds or vineyard workers or those who worked in fields from the onslaught of the heat or inclement weather. Many are in ruins. 

This is one of the largest that I know and in a private field.

 

This  one has a teeny weeny entrance and we were told it was for 'the little dog'... I think a chihuahua!

but close by, along the chemin, again built into the dry stone wall were other shelters for people...

...the inside of this one is remarkably dry

Another is in a private garden...

So that makes five on that particular walk, plus another nearby on an off route chemin leading into a field but I could not locate it. 
Maybe I should make a map of where they are!

Near an ancient moulin

This local landmark near the river has been cleared of use as a cattle byre and is being made habitable.  It has a dirt track access.  It was covered in ivy in October 2014!  I wish I could find one of the older photos. Must try harder to sort my photos but it is an uphill struggle especially when I keep clicking the camera!

 

As a result of walking into the field and carrying a child across the mud, I created gloopy boots! Now I really do have to clean and treat them nicely after they have dried out!!

Walking on a Wild Side of France 2

I've been experimenting with short story writing style and have rewritten the 'Tale of Yesterday' in the previous but one posting, in the third person, to see what difference it creates. Apart from blog post writing I haven't published any stories and poems, which are mostly based on personal experiences, like many a writer!  Now, if anyone, has thoughts,  I ask for an honest crit, warts and all!   It'sabout 1030 words in length.  Read aloud as a voice tells a story differently than if one reads silently.

I found the exercise useful as it allowed the play of more descriptive passages.  I seem to have spent many hours writing but I enjoy it.   As the wrist is now caput after mowing a lawn, and lifting a basket of very wet grass from the mower as it caught awkwardly and lifting one end of a heavy sofa I've found the simplest of tasks that the right hand is required to do impossible!  However, I can support it on the table as I type! It is strapped!  Annoyingly, it won't let me play the piano!

Walking on a Wild Side of France 2

A Tale of Yesterday

They were blessed with weather that was not wet, windy, hot, cold, blue-skied or cloudy, though a few mackerel clouds had started to form as sunset approached. They were energised as they came to the end of a journey!  It had been an exhilarating fast walk, lasting about two hours, trudging through Autumn leaves with muddy puddles to skirt around, along a route, part of which she had experienced about 6 years ago with a French walking group, and part of which was new to her.   
She loves the circular walks from her house along roads and grassy footpaths, down into the valley, along by the river, weirs and old water mills, high on a cliff ridge, or out on the agricultural plain surrounding woodland and ponds.  Here she can abide with nature, she can wonder at tumbledown stone ruins or stone buildings still in use.  She can wander along ancient walls man-made with stone where moss and fern are prolific. She can smell ancient stones and marvel at the decay of leaves, fungi and trees.  In a different season her heart jumps with joy as birds on the wing sing songs to her whilst they flutter in the coming of Spring.  However, just a few days ago, requiring adventure and stimulus, she considered exploring regions further from her house, which would mean driving the car to starting points where other circular walks could be tested!
Finding a suitable GR track with a signpost, she parked her car on the verge.  Down the narrowing track they set their matching pace scuffing the beautiful autumn-coloured oak leaves, aware of the river on their left, yet a field or so away.  They were walking downhill on rocks and slippery moss, keen to reach a safe vantage, concerned to be out of the way of what they at first heard, then witnessed.  She was worried that the car would uncontrollably slide into them.  An old man had given up trying to rev his squealing old French car up a leafy, slippery-wet slope and had parked in an unlikely place on a track parallel to the rushing river.  Now, he was getting out of his vehicle.  It was comforting to be with a friend where emerging out of a leafy tunnel of trees, they hadn't seen a soul.  It is unusual to meet anyone on a walk in the wilderness of France but she had observed that unwanted thoughts creep into her mind when walking in woodland!
In the same sentence, acknowledging "Bonjour", he said it was beautiful weather and asked if they were afraid, to which she replied "NON". But as he started to walk uphill she asked "Pourquoi?"  Ah, he voiced, hadn't they read or seen information concerning the fact that there might be aggressive persons about!   How spooky and such a strange thing for anyone to say!  Confidently, she affirmed that they were ok and dismissed the subject to enquire if it was his intention to drive uphill, but she couldn't understand what he muttered in his Gallic language.  It wasn't important.  He seemed harmless!
"Bon Journée, Au revoir."
They set off in the opposite direction to continue their exploratory walk, still with the river rushing on the left, and came alongside an escalade; a rock climbing exercise site!  This part she remembered from the only time she had ever walked this way, when she had welcomed the shade of the glade in an extremely hot summer!
Out into open fields, yet following the river, with a field distance between them and it.  Here they walked along a very straight track, waymarked white bar over a red bar.  There was a person approaching, walking alongside his horse!
"Had they seen a boxer dog?"
"NON".
Later, when they came to a junction they looked back and saw him riding the horse in the distance. They wondered how he would find his dog in such a remote area! They wandered around the bend confident that the track was not the way.
"What's that?"
Fortunately, whilst standing on the sidetrack locating their position on the map they were away from danger. They'd heard a rushing of hooves. The horse without a rider galloped round the corner and into a wooded area.  Crazy horse!  Had he thrown his rider?  With no sign of a human being they continued on their travels, for what could they do?  Whereupon, after several minutes, a man could be heard running behind them and was out of breath. He told them that the horse had bolted, afraid of beefy red Limousin cattle, which were processing up a different hill on the other side of the field. On he ran. They followed in the wake of the unseated rider, in the path of the galloping horse, to turn right onto a muddy, puddled, leaf-strewn chemin, through different woodland with a sign to say it was a refuge for pheasants.  Could they read?  Here, her observant friend took note that the horse had come this way as there were recent horse-shoe shapes slewed on the grassy track, and later, fresh horse poo!  They wondered if the rider ever found his horse and dog!!  What a day for HIM... and THEM!
Tracking the map, her friend was intelligent enough to realise that where she thought they were was incorrect!  She was glad that someone was not relying on her because lazily, she hadn't extricated her reading glasses from her bag!  This made quite a difference to reading a map!  River, woodland, power wires, randonnée signs indicated their map location.  If that is the lilac route, then this must be the pale yellow route and so it was that they emerged by the car having walked in an elliptical route.
Home to delicious scones baked earlier that day, served with home-made mirabelle jelly, crème fraîche instead of butter and refreshingly hot 'Earl's Passion' tea in white porcelain cups.  How civilised, as they discussed many things, even remembering the life and death of her friend’s mother and the life and death of her uncle. 

Today: Remembrance Sunday. 

Pics for Previous Posting

Pics to illustrate A Tale of Yesterday: Walking on a Wild Side of France

Grottoes where organised rock-climbing takes place. Bring out your crampons!

Not rock cakes but buttery English scones made with spelt and wheat flours flavoured with lemon zest.