Rainy Day Project

Emperor's Silk - should turn to a rich red after waxing

It was damp when we set out on our bikes this morning and with storm clouds on the horizon we kept the ride short (14 kms) but fast.  My best times this year.  Eat your heart out Chris Froome.

“Is the whole world asleep?”  It was so quiet, no dogs, people, traffic or wildlife.  The dampness seemed to accentuate the scent of honeysuckle, roses and elderflower.  Delicious.

Two trucks drove towards us loaded high with beehives.  The honey producers bring them into the region at this time of year to place in the chestnut woods; the trees are just about to burst into flower.  We met them twice actually as we rode in a big circle,  the driver blew me kisses the second time.

This wet, stormy weather has kicked our ‘paint the dresser red’ project into action.  Paul is doing all the hard work and I’m just the artistic director.  He’s doing a good job. 

before painting

took ages to get all the stuff out of the cupboards

 Don’t miss tomorrow’s thrilling instalment.

Blue String Hill

“You made hard work of that hill this morning.”

“I was going my usual pace, you were just going faster.”

“I was putting some effort in, that’s all.”

“Well I was trying to put some effort in too, and I was being creative and making up a song, do you want to hear it?”

“Not really.”

My wheels are a-spinning

My tyres are a-singing

As I struggle up Blue String Hill.

I’m pedalling like crazy

No chance of being lazy

If I don’t want to be on my bill...

“Just stop right there you daft woman and keep up with me.  And don’t go through any puddles, I washed your bike yesterday.”

I resisted temptation and missed out on whizzing through the puddles. Not like me at all to do what I’m told.

(NB:  I christened this particular climb Blue String Hill after some baler twine unravelled for miles along the road a couple of years back.  You can still see the blue twine embedded in the tarmac.)

Hamlet

Praline the donkey and small bird on branch

No, not Shakespeare but a wander around our little hameau this afternoon.  

Monsieur Escalier's hen house

Philippe's well

view through Philippe's old barn

Philippe's other well close to our house

 

This is Philippe’s other well.  He uses it quite a lot in summer to keep his vegetable patch watered.  He has told Paul that he is welcome to use it too if there are water restrictions during the summer.

Paul covets that well.  There would be something very reassuring about having your own source of water.  This particular well originally belonged to our dwelling.  When the previous owners bought the property back in the eighties they sold the well to Philippe.  Seems like a strange thing to do but I suppose they never had plans to cultivate the land.

 

Cherry Ripe

Another hot sunny day, quite windy too.  This heat is surely building up to a storm later in the week.

Last year the fruit was still within my reach on our young cherry trees but this year I had to persuade Paul to climb a stepladder to pick the few ripe cherries on our tree.  It wasn’t a massive haul but plenty for our lunch time dessert.  

We tried out a new chilled rosé at lunch time so I probably drank a bit more than was wise.  Paul went indoors to watch the Monaco Grand Prix and left me outside on the terrace, sipping my rosé and listening to some gentle jazz.  I drifted off nicely until I awoke and came face to face with a panting, slobbering Diane the Dawg.  She is in her element today as both Philippe and Monique are having lunch parties; it’s the French equivalent of Mother’s Day today.

A pair of swallows have kept me entertained this afternoon, I am constantly amazed at their flying skills.  They have been having fun exploring the barn and are now sitting on the washing line preening their feathers.

We completed and sent off our postal votes for the General Election yesterday.  There is no escape from politics, even in this French idyll.