My son Leonardo, who lives in Berlin en route for New York (and incidentally is the person who encouraged and helped me to set up this blog), is visiting for the weekend. We’re in the upstairs living room and Jean Michel is looking out at the garden. “There’s a hedgehog!” he says and we rush over to look. In fact, there are two little hedgehogs working their way round the garden.
I rush down with my iPhone while Jean Michel gets out his telephoto lens for Leonardo to use. I’m afraid to get up close and frighten them away, which is the advantage of a telephoto lens, of course. The results are fabulous.
One of the hedgehogs is still there when we’re having lunch in the garden so our entire time is spent jumping up to take another photo or video. It turns out that the hedgehog isn’t frightened at all which is strange as they are nocturnal creatures. Leonardo suddenly says, “I want a selfie with the hedgehog” and lies down on the grass next to it!
After lunch Jean Michel and I go cycling while Leonardo goes off to the gym to do weight lifting. It’s a pity he won’t be around more often – he would be very useful for lifting the freestone that Jean Michel will be using to make the new kitchen window.
We begin cycling at what I call the Giraffe Intersection because during the summer, they blow up a huge plastic giraffe for the kids to play on while their parents are snacking on focaccia and croissants at Pat-à-Pain. When they remove it in winter, I get completely lost.
Our route takes us through little villages full of roses and fields of barley, wheat and poppies. We’re growing our own barley, wheat and oats this year – quite by accident. The mixed bird seed on the window ledge dropped into the garden bed below and sprouted, much better than my lobelia and verbena seeds, but that’s always the way, isn’t it?
Ahead of us we suddenly see a horse and buggy. Not the tourist sort, but a real one. The man and young boy are appropriately dressed in colourful caps and there’s even a wicker basket at the back. They are obviously out for a Sunday drive. I have to take the photo without getting off my bike or getting too close as I’m not sure how these people would feel about being photographed openly.
One of the main reasons we have chosen this itinerary is so that I can see my favourite wall of roses at Château de Cheverny. They are just as stunning every year. I’m working on producing a similar effect with my Saharan roses (see apricot and pink roses in first photo), although my wall is somewhat smaller.
Our last stop before we get back to the car is the beautiful park in the pretty little village of Cellettes where we initially intended to look for a house – until we discovered it’s a thoroughfare for trucks from Monday to Saturday!
We do not regret, for one moment, having bought Closerie Falaiseau in Blois. And now we even have a hedgehog!
I’ve been wanting to have a neighbourhood party since we bought Closerie Falaiseau three years ago but it was a little tricky while we were still living in Paris … I check the date – 29th May – and ask what my oldest and dearest friends in the street think about it. Great idea, they say, but neither will be able to attend.
I call in to see my next door neighbour (the one that ISN’T going to have a poultry yard) at her snackbar in Blois and she thinks it’s a wonderful idea. “We’ll come”, she says, “and so will our friends down the road that I knew from high school.” I ask for advice about food and she suggests that I simply tell people to bring a picnic basket with what they need.
Jean Michel and I spend some time finding the right wording for the flyer and I add a logo I find on a website. La fête des voisins also called Immeubles en fête (which roughly means “partying flats”) was created at the turn of the century (this one!), at the initiative of one Atanase Périfan in the 17th arrondissement in Paris. It was promoted by the mayors of Paris (all twenty-one of them) and low-income housing owners and its popularity rapidly spread to the rest of France. It is now held on the last Friday of May or the first Friday of June. It became Europe-wide in 2004.
I print out 70 copies (two flyers per page) because the last house in the street is 132 (it’s a long street) and we set out after dinner on the Monday 18th to put them in everyone’s letterboxes. We have lots left over so I can only surmise that many people have two numbers (like our neighbours on the other side).
Next day, a lady walks past while I’m weeding on the footpath and we chat for a while. She says her husband has a pétanque game but they will try to come afterwards. Another neighbour we know also calls by to say he’s coming. We’re up to 12 which seems a decent number. I invite Mr and Mrs Previous Owner and they are delighted to come.
We keep checking the weather and although it will be a little chilly and overcast, no rain is predicted. Responses trickle in and it looks like we might make it to twenty.
Jean Michel is going to set up a couple of trestle tables and a banner made of balloons saying “Fête des Voisins”.
Friday dawns and to my dismay, I am too sick to get out of bed. My terrible January flu seems to be back. I make my way to the sofa and finish off the two translations due that morning, then drag myself back to bed. I am feeling very miserable and very disappointed to say the least.
Jean Michel goes off and buys the balloons and at 5 pm is setting up the first trestle table in the area opposite where we park trailer. By then, I am feeling even worse than I did during my first flu so ask him to ring the doctor (whom I incidentally do not like). The doctor says to bring me straight over so I clutch my sick bag as we hurtle over to Chouzy-sur-Cisse.
The doctor reassures me that I don’t have Lyme’s disease from a recent tick bite, nor a urinary infection, nor encephalitis or meningitis from all my recent mosquito bites. We go home and I collapse into bed again fully clothed.
At 8 pm, I wake up and take some aspirin, feeling slightly better. I can hear joyous voices wafting in from the outside. I go down and get my deck chair and wander across the road. Someone spies me and starts clapping. A loud “hourray” goes up !
I am amazed to count a total of 31 adults and 5 children. Everyone comes to talk to me in my deck chair and I can see they are all enjoying themselves. There is plenty of food and I end up having a glass of rosé bought from the Cheverny Cooperative the day before. I slowly start to feel better and after an hour or so and a second glass of wine with a sandwich can actually get up and mingle.
Most of the people present are our neighbours who are geographically the closest, although lady comes from the top of the street. She tells me she felt a little shy at first so drove past. One of the other neighbours recognised her and called out so she stopped and joined us.
I’m told by another neighbour that she once tried to initiate a fête des voisins and met with little enthusiasm. My principle is that when you hold a party, even if only one person comes, then it’s worth it because that person wants to be there !
Another lady tells me she and her husband are moving away in a couple of months’ time because they have never managed to establish a social network in Blois. How lucky we are !
About 10.30 pm, as night falls, the party spontaneously breaks up and everyone helps to clean up. Next morning only the balloon banner still remains. At the market, we meet no fewer that three of our neighbours present at the fête. All repeat how much they enjoyed themselves.
So we’ll be on the ball next year for the 2ème fête de voisins (and I won’t be sick because spending three days in bed is no fun!)
All About France #5
I would like to dedicate this post to Phoebe Thomas from Lou Messugo, who’s neighbour day party two years ago inspired me, and at the same time participate in her All About France #5 blog link. For other contributions, click here.
Last time, I took you on a tour of my garden in May. I thought you might like to see the wild flowers in the surrounding countryside as well. Here are the photos I took last Friday when we cycled along the Loire from opposite Saint Claude sur Diray to Saint-Dyé-sur-Loire, then through the forest to Château de Chambord, a 30 km round trip.
The first flowers I noticed were all the dog roses (églantine in French) which are a delicate pink.
These are elder trees (sureau). The berries are used to make elderberry wine.
These very tall trees (Jean Michel is on the bike path in front of me) are the Robinia pseudoacacia or false acacias that I mistook for wattle in my last post. It’s a bit confusing as the French actually call them acacias.
These yellow water irises are a little past their prime but I still love seeing them.
Buttercups are everywhere at the moment. These are on the banks of the Loire at Saint Dyé. When I first came to France, I fell in love with the buttercups and used to take my moped out into the countryside and lie down in the fields feeling very romantic.
You see both these flowers on stone walls everywhere. I understand that the lavendar one on the top right is a geranium (what we usually call geraniums are actually pelargoniums). I have no idea what the ones on the left are though.
These pretty little asters are also very common. You can see another geranium at the bottom of the photo.
These cornflowers are next to a field of barley on the path from Saint Dyé to Chambord.
No flowers in this one but I couldn’t resist posting a photo of one of my favourite châteaux!
I have never had any doubts about moving to Blois despite the dreary winter but spring in our garden and the surrounding villages and countryside is just so wonderful that I don’t think I could ever spend it anywhere else! Let me share some of our May flowers with you starting with the traditional lily-of-the-valley that Jean Michel picked for me in the garden.
Next come the Ronsard roses, viburnum and irises outside our front gate.
Followed by the first rose to bloom – the Peace Rose. It has no scent but I love the colours and the story behind it. Only one flower seems to bloom at a time.
The climbing roses on the half-timbered tower at the corner of our house flowered next. They don’t have any scent either but are very romantic.
I love the weigela for its abundance. It grows at one end of our vegetable garden and is a little bit hidden away but will be very visible from our future kitchen side window.
And just look at the next one – it’s wattle, isn’t? I brought back seeds one time but had no success. Then I discovered we already had one in our little wood!
I took this photo on a rainy day. You can see the clematis on the wall which we planted two years ago and are very proud of. However, there is an armandii clematis which has been less successful. I accidentally broke the flowering end and it’s been sulking ever since.
These are the peonies in the little house next door. I’m going to try dividing the tubers in autumn.
The roses below are my favourites and bloom right up until December but May/June is the best period.
And below is the view out of my office room this morning – it corresponds to the window on the left in the photo above.
This my contribution to this month’s AllAboutFrance link-up proposed by Lou Messugo. For other posts on France, click here
We are halfway through the Saturday market (you can read #1 here) and having our coffee, waiting to hear about the Chambord second-hand and antique fair on May 1st from a lady who was an exhibitor.
“I slept the night in my car”, she explains. “It was very cold – it rained all night. The first buyers turned up at 4.30 am. I wasn’t even up ! (Who’s to blame her ?). During the day, it was so wet, I changed three times”, she adds. “I don’t understand why anyone would come on such an awful day. The ground was completely soaked.” When the friend on her left asks how much money she made, she replies “About 150 euro. I usually make 800 to 1000 euro at Chambord.”
We were lucky when we went three years ago at the suggestion of Mr and Mrs Previous Owner. It was a beautiful sunny day and the place was absolutely crowded.
We’ve finished our coffee and the story’s over so we move on, after being invited to attend two forthcoming brocantes, one combined with the local horticulture school’s annual exhibition. We’ll definitely be going to that one ! Let’s hope the weather is better …
Our next stop is a Turkish couple who sell good quality fruit and vegetables. Initially we didn’t get much of a smile from Madame but now that we have become regulars, she has opened up. Her husband loves a good joke and sometimes joins us for coffee. They own a grocery store in Vendôme.
Next comes the cheese monger. We buy a selection of cheeses about every three weeks and have a cheese meal once a week. We’d much rather do it that way than just have a little bit at a time. The French custom of having cheese at every meal is gradually dying out because of the high calorie content and lack of physical activity. We have a large bowl of lettuce and a piece of fruit to follow.
The honey vendor just opposite has a wide selection of local honey.
The fishmonger is next in line and there is often a queue. We buy fresh mackerel whenever we can (an oily fish in Europe unlike the Australian fish of the same name) and cook them whole. I usually buy several pieces of wild salmon at a time and freeze them. There are three fishmongers at the market but we’re not really satisfied with any of them, unlike the market we went to in Paris which had a wide variety of freshly caught fish at reasonable prices.
The kitchen stall a little further along is where we buy our kitchen knives and vegetable peelers which disappear mysteriously from time to time. Jean Michel is convinced that when he next adds the compost to the vegetable garden, it’s going to be full of knives. We can also have our knives and scissors sharpened although a knife grinder turned up at the market recently with a very neat outfit indeed.
Depending on the season, we might then find a stall just selling asparagus, artichokes or strawberries all of which are local specialities.
We never miss having a chat with Damien, our local biscuit maker. He is quite passionate about his trade and is always trying out new recipes. He seems to know half the people in Blois as well and entertains us with the local gossip.
The last on the list is a man who sells fruit and vegetables grown by local producers. I sometimes go by his stall at the beginning of the market to see what he’s selling so that I don’t double up at the other stalls.
So those are are regular stalls, but there are plenty of others who are either permanent or come and go according to the season. And you never know what else might be going on as well. Today, for instance, there were folk dancers teaching the locals! Would you have joined in?
We go to the fresh produce market in Blois every Saturday in Place Louis XII no matter what the weather. You never know what you’ll find! We arrive any time between 10 am and 11 am and park in the underground parking lot nearby.
Over the last 3 years and particularly since we moved here permanently six months ago, we have developed a set routine to include our favourite vendors.
In winter, we start with the oyster vendor and buy two dozen spécialesas these are our favourites. At 7.20 euro a dozen, they are considerably cheaper than the ones we used to buy in the 1st arrondissement in Paris. Our vendor and her husband live and raise their oysters in Charentes and come to Blois three days a week. Between them, they cover the Amboise market on Friday and Sunday mornings, two markets in Blois on Saturday morning and various selling points on Friday and Saturday afternoon, from the beginning of September to the end of April.
Next stop is the saucisson seller with local varieties such as deer and wild boar. Saucisson in French corresponds to dry sausage of the salami type as opposed to saucisse of the frankfurter type. Saucisson is one of our favourite appetizers.
The chicken and rabbit vendor comes next. Rabbit is one of Jean Michel’s specialities that we buy from time to time and have with chasselas grapes or prunes depending the season.
After that, we have the mushroom man. He works with a partner who grows button mushrooms (called Parisian in French) , shitake and oyster mushrooms. He loves joking and talking to each customer. He always wants to know what you are going to do with the mushrooms and selects them accordingly – very firm to be eaten uncooked, large if they are to be sliced, tiny to accompany a roast.
The next vendor is the organic baker. The vendors (a young man or a young woman) are not very friendly, but Jean Michel prefers their baguette with his oysters – I prefer the multi-grain bread I make myself.
A large self-serve fruit and vegetable stall comes next. The owner of the stall is a farmer himself and all the produce he sells is fresh and local. In between the cardboard boxes are little signs with philosophical quotes such as “Humility is like a pair of scales. The more you make it go down on one side, the higher it goes on the other”. The lady behind the scales writes everything down on a piece of xcrap paper and then adds it up. They also sell free-range eggs so we take along our empty cartons.
Next on the list is the Italian stall. It’s very popular so we always buy four types of ravioli and some tagliatelle and freeze them so we won’t have to queue as often. You can plunge the pasta directly into boiling water still frozen and cook it like fresh pasta. The stall is run by three generations and their produce comes directly from Italy.
In winter, we often buy scallops (coquille Saint Jacques in French) from a stall run by two young men. Their hands must be frozen by the end of the morning, after opening literally hundreds of scallops. For the last two or three weeks, a young woman has been present, cooking scallop kebabs on a gas-fired griddle plate. She has a little sample plate cut into small pieces with a couple of whole scallops. Jean Michel thinks they are for sampling too ! I explain to the woman but she just laughs and says “don’t worry”.
Now comes the best bit. The coffee stand. Not only can you buy coffee grains, you can also buy fresh espresso, tea and hot chocolate. We order our two cups of black espresso and hand over our empty packets to be refilled with colombie and déca (decaffeinated coffee). There’s the usual banter between the lady who serves the coffee and the man who owns the stall. He pitches in when it get busy but spends the rest of the time talking to all his mates who stop by.
We take our coffee to the trestle tables and benches behind the stall. It’s just started to rain so we appreciate the awning. By now the tables have filled up as it’s the weekly meeting place for a group called “On Va Sortir” (let’s go out) but there are still a couple of places left. We say hello to the others at our table and listen in on a conversation about the famous Chambord brocante held the day before during which it rained solidly.
They have a friend who had a stall. She suddenly arrives with her daughter and sits down in the space next to Jean Michel. We were very keen to hear about her “wet” experience. Rendez-vous in my next post to hear her story!
I have two half-written posts that I don’t seem to be able to find time to finish so I thought I’d share some of our spring photos with you in the meantime. Those you follow Loire Daily Photo will already have seen some of them.
We’ve talked it over and decided that, based on the experience of the practice window, the kitchen windows may take a lot longer than expected and we may well have to forego our summer cycling holiday this year. I was hoping to go to Romania but we would need at least a month to cross half of Europe by car so the plan is now to go for short trips closer to home instead whenever my workload permits. Otherwise Jean Michel is going to be stressed out of his mind trying to get everything finished.
The practice window is now in place. The laundry still isn’t finished – it’s missing the sink – but I have no urgent work waiting for me and the weather forecast is looking good. After participating in the local garage sale on Sunday which was held in the grounds of the old school, we pour ourselves a gin tonic (our holiday beverage) and debate on where to go. I’ve been wanting to go back to Gien for a while to complete our porcelain breakfast service, especially since I broke one of the two egg cups.
Gien is a two and a half hour drive east from Blois along the Loire and is part of the Loire à Vélo and Eurovélo 6 cycle routes (the one that goes from Saint Nazaire on the eastern Atlantic seabord to the Black Sea). We find and book a B&B about 10 km out of Gien for the next evening – it seems to have plenty of positive comments on Trip Advisor.
By the time we get up and get ready – it’s amazing how much we always seem to need for even a short trip – it’s nearly midday. We take the motorway to Orléans then drive along the Loire until we get to Jargeau. We can’t find our Eurovelo 6 maps, which is annoying, but I’ve been checking out the route on my phone app. The 30 K return ride from Jargeau to Germigny via Châteauneuf-sur-Loire looks good according to the description.
The bike path along the river to Châteauneuf takes us past the inevitable gabarre flat-bottomed boats in Jargeau before offering wide-sweeping views of the Loire from the levee.
At Châteauneuf, we cross the 276 metre long suspension bridge (initially built in 1838) which unfortunately doesn’t have a bike lane, but there isn’t much traffic so we are able to stop and take photos.
On the other side, we turn right and evenutally come to a cluster of quaint houses with very unusual brick chimneys.
Another village follows full of somewhat ramshackle dwellings most of which are very kitch but I am thwarted in my attempt to photograph the best examples. There seem to be people all over the place!
We finally arrive at Germigny which is rather dull after the other villages along the way. It is not until we go past it in the car later on that I discover that it has a Carolingian oratory. Jean Michel remembers it perfectly from a previous occasion. I am embarrassed to say that I only remember having a cold drink in the café opposite. Jean Michel makes his usual comment about how wonderful it is to take me anywhere. Since I don’t have any recollection of a lot of the places we go to, I derive new pleasure each time we visit again! Now that I’m blogging I tell myself that at least I’ll have photos to remind me of where I’ve been.
On the way back to Jargeau, we stop at the café at the end of the bridge at Châteauneuf for a Coca Zero – it’s an intermittent fast day so we can’t indulge ourselves any further.
We reach our B&B at about 6.30 pm. The 18th century mansion, renovated and redecorated when the owners bought it twenty-five years ago, is set in a beautiful park. It even has a couple of peacocks. Unfortunately it’s a little early in the season for the male to be spreading his tail feathers. He seems to make a lot of noise though!
The room is spacious and full of light, its windows looking onto the park on one side and wisteria on the other – the perfect setting for our picnic dinner. Afterwards we walk around the park examining the different types of vegetation. Some of the trees must be centuries old. But we see how much upkeep is needed and are glad of our little wood which is so much easier to look after!
Now that the practice window is coming along nicely and we’ve bought the secondhand stone sills and bricks for the kitchen windows, the next step is to buy some freestone blocks for the window on the back façade so it will match the ones in front. For those who don’t know what freestone is (like me!), it’s a fine grain stone which can be cut easily in any direction, in particular a type of sandstone or limestone. In our area, they are made of limestone.
As usual, Jean Michel starts searching through leboncoin.com. “This looks good”, he says, one evening in front of the fire, “only 50 euro for a whole heap of stones, some of them very big – about 80 kilos”, he adds. I nearly have a fit. “What are we going to do with them all and how are we going to transport them?”” We’ll do a couple of trips with the trailer”, he replies. “Won’t they be too big to use?” “Je me débrouillerai“, he reassures me.
He phones and talks to a young woman who hardly seems the type to be selling 80 kilo stones. It takes us an hour to get there and we are about ten minutes early for our 7 pm appointment. It doesn’t look like a house owned by someone selling freestones either. Two young people in their early thirties soon pull up in a car. The young man gets out and opens the gate. The young woman drives in. She gets out and shakes our hands.
“I’ll go and let the hens out”, says Olivier. Christelle shows us the stones and Jean Michel drives the trailer in next to them. He then proceeds to put two planks at the back of the trailer to form a slide for the trolley he’s going to use. Olivier soon returns, having changed into yard clothes. He is tall and slim and I wonder if he is really going to be much help.
However, he turns out to be amazingly strong, which is a good thing because I seriously do not think I would have been much use! This is a much heavier operation than the bricks. It takes them both more than an hour to get 15 stones of various shapes and sizes into the trailer.
In the meantime, I chat with Christelle about her house and garden. The land, which originally housed a large barn, belonged to her grandmother. After she and Olivier bought it, the barn was demolished (hence the stones) and they had a new house built because the barn would have cost far too much to renovate. Christelle’s parents live opposite. Her father used to be a farmer and still has a few hectares.
Christelle and Oliver’s garden is very large with a lot of trees and even a little stream at the bottom. Next door, there is a pond. It looks very idyllic in the spring and they have large French windows at the back of the house to make the most of the view.
The trailer is now packed and ready to go. Christelle asks if we’d like to stay for a drink but we explain it is an intermittent fast day so all we can have is water. They ask where I come from and are thrilled to learn I’m Australian. They visited Christelle’s sister’s brother-in-law in Sydney last year! We make another appointment for a few days later and Christelle’s father, who has wandered over, offers to come with his tractor. Now why didn’t he come by earlier???
It is nearly 9.30 pm by the time we get home. By now we’re pretty hungry, especially Jean Michel. Next day, he up-ends the stones into the front yard – I had no idea our trailer was a tip truck – and uses the trolley to take them into the garden of our little house next door which is ready to receive them.
As soon as we arrive at Christelle and Oliver’s house to pick up the next cargo of stones, Christelle’s father promptly arrives with his tractor. This time it only takes a half an hour to get the next 16 stones into the trailer. As a present, I have brought some cuttings from our garden: a little yew tree, a laurel and some winter jasmin. Christelle and Olivier are delighted.
It’s the third and last trip. Christelle’s father, who takes every opportunity he can to use his tractor according to Olivier, has already picked up two stones on the fork lift by the time Jean Michel gets the trailer in place. One of the stones is a sink. I hope we’ll be able to find some use for it.
Theyve got it down to a fine art by now so, once again, within a half an hour, we’re all set and ready to go, with another 18 stones in the trail. However, I’m hoping that they’ll ask us if we want an apéritif again. It’s not an intermittent fast day! Christelle pops the question and we accept without hesitation.
I would like to suggest that she invite her mother over too because I want to ask her more details about the way she keeps her geraniums in winter. Christelle telle me that she takes them out of the pots and hangs them upside down ! But I need more details. However, I think it might be a little out of place to do so.
Olivier goes off and gets a bottle with EPINE written on it. We learn it is a homemade brew consisting of tender blackthorn shoots cut in the spring and steeped in brandy, red or rosé wine and sugar. I ask what the alcohol content is so I have an idea of what I’m drinking. Olivier does a rough calculation and comes up with about 20°. One glass will do me!
We sit round the table drinking the épine which is very tasty, and are joined by Pierre, who’s staying with them for a couple of days. Because they live close to the Saint-Laurent-sur-Nouan nuclear power plant, there is occasional demand for extra accommodation which they offer on airbnb.com. What a good idea!
The conversation mostly revolves around farming (and Australia) as Jean Michel is interested in knowing what Christelle’s father used to do. He grew cereal crops and raised beef cattle. Unfortunately he didn’t have a son to take over after he retired and he misses the activity. What a pity he lives too far away or we could ask him to bring his tractor over when Jean Michel is putting the stones in place!
We leave reluctantly but it’s getting late. We have taken a liking to these two young people and their farmer father. We’ve only been gone ten minutes when Jean Michel’s mobile rings. It’s Christelle to tell us I’ve forgotten my jacket. So back we go. She comes out to give it to me. I’ll make sure I send her a photo when the window is finished so they can see their stones in their new home. We drive home into the sunset.
I am not sick. I have not given up my blog but like Owl in Winnie the Pooh, I am busy! After a sluggish start to the year workwise, I am suddenly inundated with translations. I can’t complain but it’s not easy to juggle with work, the beautiful weather, the garden and cycling. I am (more or less) keeping up with my photographic blog, Loire Daily Photo. In the meantime, may I invite you to join me in the garden with a cold glass of jurançon in front of our wisteria which came into bloom in just two days!