The chestnut weekend is an important event in the local town’s annual programme of festivities. Market stalls, giant mushroom omelette and a chestnut spitting competition are just some of the delights on offer at the Fête de la Châtaigne. Sadly it was rather damp and dismal yesterday as it rained for most of the day so we gave the chestnut attractions a miss.
As we were pulling on our wellington boots in the afternoon to take Rick out, a group of walkers, part of the weekend’s organised tour of the chestnut woods, appeared (I’ve mentioned before that there is a right of way through our property). We waited until they had disappeared from sight before we set off. Rick’s canine groupies, Diane and Joy, trotted along with us. As we walked through the chestnut woods we suddenly caught up with the tour; they were standing in a group listening to a lecture about the chestnut tree. We didn’t really want to join them (unsociable bastards that we are) so we stayed back and hid among the trees. The dogs looked at us as if we were mad. Eventually they moved on so we followed, knowing that we could veer off on to another track through the woods to avoid them. Unfortunately they had only gone a few hundred yards before they stopped for another talk. How much is there to say about a chestnut tree? A lot apparently. It had started to rain again so we turned round and headed back home.
After we had walked by the lake of doom (Rick’s favourite place) we let him off his leash. He immediately set off like a rocket, running with Joy around the farmer’s fields. They charged off up the hill towards our house and disappeared from sight. Would we ever see him again? We climbed the hill as quickly as we could in the pouring rain and as we approached our garden, completely out of breath, there he was, wagging his tail and waiting for us to open the gate.
It felt very chilly and autumnal last night. Paul lit the wood burner and we had a delightful evening eating roasted chestnuts while Rick stretched out in front of the fire and gave off a wonderful odour of wet dog.
Oh yes - the odour of wet dog! I am surprised that air freshener companies haven't latched on to this "delightful" aroma. It would enhance the ambience in any home. Currently, we use either "Rotting Leaves" or "Ashtray".ReplyDelete
Wet pond dog is even better, a wonderful combination of rotting leaves and wet dog.Delete
We went on Saturday morning. We looked, said a few hellos, then returned home feeling rather disappointed.ReplyDelete
We went in early to do some shopping but didn't linger, the stall holders looked very cold.Delete
I think we can say with certainty that that dog has found his niche and has well and truly settled. Never see him again when he ran off? As we say here in Yorkshire - no such luck - he knows which side his bread is buttered.ReplyDelete
I think I'm more worried about the innocent cyclist he might chase!Delete
Wet Dog and it's partner fragrance, Hot Wet Dog. I think the guys in America who can put their finger on all smells - for the wine industry - have this one well and truely catalogged.ReplyDelete
Place wet dog in front of log fire to fully appreciate the aroma!Delete
sounds like a perfect day and evening, which makes me smile. Thank you for that, vicariously!ReplyDelete
Life in the French countryside.Delete
Shame about the lack of people.ReplyDelete
These sort of events just don't work well in bad weather.Delete
Nothing makes a house a home more than the odour of steaming wet dog in front of the fire !ReplyDelete
Ha-ha, too true.Delete