tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70382044411974723832024-02-28T15:43:57.475-08:00Life scenes from La Chaiseweekly diary of events on a country estate in deepest rural South West France.doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-57031951285188450702024-01-24T07:02:00.000-08:002024-01-24T08:05:50.428-08:00Beware AI entanglements...!!<p></p><div><span style="font-size: large;">Through my own stupidity - my dislike of crowded, noisy places - such as airport luggage recovery spaces - I managed to leave Merignac without my laptop, my tablet - and my deaf aids plus their fancy cleaning stuff. This happened because of the security systems - all the above equipment had been scanned at Gatwick, passed and put into a separate black bag - rather than back into my usual travelling trolley..</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">At the exit I saw my daughter waiting - so just rushed off to meet her, pulling the trolley behind me, not thinking at all about the 'black bag'.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It was not until I unpacked at home that I realised what I was missing...panic stations.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But my very computer competent daughter was able to snaffle the French grandsons play computer - a sturdy Hewlett Packard - and get it working reasonably well. It did have some '<i>etats d'ame' </i>and refuse to cooperate at times - the keyboard would jam, for example. So I was able, more or less, to keep up with my essential admin matters - but not much creative 'stuff'.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Eventually I got fed up, demanded advice from my also computer competent son in London as well as my c.c. daughter in France. Their consensus opinion is that I should purchase a 'Cromebook'. The daughter tried to order one on the ever useful Amazon site - and the first snag came up. In France 'Cromebooks' could only be bought with 'azerty' keyboards...I learned to type on the classic English 'querty' keyboard - essential for someone whose handwriting was illegible...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">So we ordered one via the UK and it duly arrived in the most amazing</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">packing ever seen - three boxes, one inside the other...how many trees I asked myself...But shut up as soon as I got to work with and on it.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Communication with the UK and other places outside the Dordogne was soon flourishing. I felt on top of all my admin chores..and even had a little look at my 'creative' writing.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">However, reality soon showed its ugly face. My London accountant sent me xxxx pages of tax declaration to study - and a final page to sign and return. So I dutifully read, noted where I had to sign and tried to download the one page I needed...Only by this time the Crome system had cleverly spotted that it was in France....so it tried to download that one page to a French system of 'fischiers'...which of course I did not have...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">In the end I had to download the whole document - sign the single page, scan that page, save it and then send it. I dread what is going to happen when I start to edit/rewrite/ generally fiddle with my creative text...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">And now Stephanie has confessed SHE put the internet on in French...I wait to hear why but she is feeling rather queezy at the moment!!!</span></div><p></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-26231289406975793722024-01-14T06:48:00.000-08:002024-01-15T02:10:47.804-08:00Here comes the cold..<p>This morning the first cold of 2024 arrived ....approppriatly on the 13th day of January. It was a pretty cold, mostly a light, nearly transparent mist that did not lift until well after lunch time - most un French, it might have stopped many people from going out to lunch, especially if they had to drive anywhere. But even so there was quite a lot of fast traffic going past La Chaise which lies on the top of a hill midway between two market towns - Tocane St Apre and St Astier....both of them in river valleys, Dronne and Isle respectively - they join up later.</p><p>One very splendid surprise: I subscribe to the local newspaper whose publishers guaranteed to deliver it by one o clock every day and so far this has been true. It is usually the simple yellow post office van that brings it. An unkindness in me makes me wonder whether the postie does not have to hide somewhere to make the time come true. Occasionally, when I have nothing better to do, I wander up to the road and the post box a few minutes before 13.00 to see if I can see the yellow postal van lurking down the Tocane part of the road. I never have seen anything - but then there is a little hamlet called Chantepoule just down the road, perhaps a friendly resident offers a warm coffee. </p><p>Sometimes when I get warning of the van's possible arrival I wander quite aimlessly up the path to the post box and manage to greet the postman, congratulate him on his timely arrival. The usual postman, an elderly man with a Santa Claus beard, goes slightly pink and sometimes we shake hands as I thank him.</p><p>However, today's mist did delay the delivery but it was compensated in the most splendid way. Just around 13.30 I heard the rush of an engine coming up from the St Astier side .....a yellow and white van drew up, turned in a circle to face back to St Astier, a young man got out - and put the weekend edition of my newspaper in the box. I could not get there quick enough to shake hands and thank....but I did notice it was not the usual yellow all over post van - it was yellow and white, the colouring of the post office's extra fast and secure delivery service - Colissimo.</p><p>How's that for service?</p><p>As always mist softens</p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-21286737502398300602024-01-03T06:47:00.000-08:002024-01-05T10:18:24.729-08:00Great Jumping Chestnuts...<p> <span style="font-size: medium;">So a few days ago, TDH* Martin - who is now fully responsible for woodland management, not least new planting - but that will be another story ---</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Well Martin set off with his trusty chain saw to deal with a copse of three skinny chestnut trees. 'Deal with' is of course a euphism for 'cut down'...He cleared the land around the trees, dead branches, excess fallen leaves and a surprising amount of chestnuts on the ground....anyone would think we did not have wild boar who normally hover up such delicious treats, especially once they have cleared all the acorns...but..<i>passons...</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Martin settled himself comfortably on his knees, started his chain aw and cut the recommended V near the base of the tree - making sure it would fall well away from him. He says the tree wobbled, its head waved and it moved from its cut root....only to establish itself firmly into the soggy soil a few inches from its rooting place. Martin swears the tree did not look at him with scorn - but it felt like that...</span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So Martin re-starts his chain saw, cuts another perfect V at the new base of the young chestnut and waited for it to fall exactly where he - Martin - had planned it should fall. The chestnut shudders, wobbles, the head shakes.....and it planted itself again a few inches further into the soggy soil. If young chestnut trees could grin, Martin swears it would have grinned at him.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Now Martin swears he was not cross with the tree, it was just that he had other trees to attend to, other things to do...So once again he cut the perfect V just above ground level on the chestnut's slender trunk. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This time the tree conceded and fell to the ground as pre-ordained. But this leaves me with nagging problems: should I burn the wood of an animate tree in my indoor fire places, should I sell it to someone else, without telling the story...perhaps as the wood dries its soul will drift into another tree...Not a happy thought. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Later I heard that Stephanie (a girl) had got cross and lassoed the trees, then pulled so they would fall..</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">*= </span>Tall, dark,handsome</p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-4521470775360643272023-12-14T08:38:00.000-08:002023-12-14T08:38:17.847-08:00REAL AUTUMN AT LAST<p> <span style="font-size: large;">Yes, the leaves are falling fast....this year, probably for the first time, I have noticed that the biggest leaves fall first. I leave it to those much clever than me to make deductions based on this observation.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">However I did not realise one of his reasons...just look at this picture of the Virginia Tulip Tree this autumn.....soon there will be leaves, leaves everywhere.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk441HYviraJBTg5rp_vCqw2XRbky5VFzhLgualWjkQoFQUjPEkDnULcafkq7PIiDS-W9FiLm3EPGgZdJ62pFlzSB-BC7-nUFJKGSoNvTCNDWDqQ5CnUmuuGL1E5xj2HCG-5S2rNHxaY-SDYgNhS9jAX__71LJzVM4UY_EUjiDyIgk-Nu14cqJyAIWoKxG/s4000/20231115_123530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk441HYviraJBTg5rp_vCqw2XRbky5VFzhLgualWjkQoFQUjPEkDnULcafkq7PIiDS-W9FiLm3EPGgZdJ62pFlzSB-BC7-nUFJKGSoNvTCNDWDqQ5CnUmuuGL1E5xj2HCG-5S2rNHxaY-SDYgNhS9jAX__71LJzVM4UY_EUjiDyIgk-Nu14cqJyAIWoKxG/w300-h400/20231115_123530.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Fortunately Stephanie - <i>la gardienne -</i> is very pleased with the leaf blower and works it hard. Imagine her surprise when I told of gardening advice I had heard from the BBC...Apparently one should NOT blow the leaves away for they are protecting the grass - and other things - from winter frosts. The leaves become mulch.<br /><br /></span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-19913545121707411972023-11-10T01:50:00.000-08:002023-11-10T01:50:51.406-08:00It has been a wonderful year for figs - if you like figs obviously<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">We have three fig trees at La Chaise, two either side of the entrance into the Farmhouse barn and a third that just reached over the railing to the terrace alongside my bedroom. That one had to be severely pruned because it suffered from a classic fig tree pest - of which more later.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelAxkbXZcOqs_0KcLzUFLT8hsu1vazVpeyVKrA0dDQ26xFd8bHco0IcZ5_PrYnbTzQxyBQCkTcj3SaXuIp8jMfaVboRayBazAKoHER9-z3yvWN8QehAA7T1J6InmurEeGeVRqaILXGaXMD_gbNlE5iBh0pHQmeSDdt9IyGWaPnp9ebrVLExMsUrvyLyio/s4000/20231017_104014.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelAxkbXZcOqs_0KcLzUFLT8hsu1vazVpeyVKrA0dDQ26xFd8bHco0IcZ5_PrYnbTzQxyBQCkTcj3SaXuIp8jMfaVboRayBazAKoHER9-z3yvWN8QehAA7T1J6InmurEeGeVRqaILXGaXMD_gbNlE5iBh0pHQmeSDdt9IyGWaPnp9ebrVLExMsUrvyLyio/w333-h320/20231017_104014.jpg" width="333" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-size: large;">The two fig trees you see here are either side of the barn entrance. One bears black figs, the other has the classic 'white' figs which are actually green. As well as eating them I made some jam - a new recipe which uses red wine - and I also filled two litre glass preserving jars with whole figs in red wine.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The <i>figuiers </i>are the result of two fig sticks that we were given several years ago with the instruction - 'just stick them in the ground' - because they would just grow roots and get on with it. However, I will admit I did look carefully to see which end was best to shove in the ground. I judged that fig leaves would grow upwards...so pushed the other end into the ground. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BUT it is not only humans who like figs - small birds do as well but one can frighten them away. The real pest that dissuades human visitors is the hornet and the hornet is very territorial about its figs. This means no getting figs when the sun light is directly on the trees - the hornets will go for humans even dressed in full protective gear - face mask and helmet, gloves and boots...Finding figs by torchlight is difficult..</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMun5bBllFmo8j0RZWD_CLhSGLHyVDUvRyAXhayGjIdn7b-Ioe_c1quK6PYVJFXcsnkI-0mVNbB2ukPfZKlH5lHOkZJ89j5vvBNQnAfho6kESgERt6RMiIkUhZWcUO9sphUkVTcqjCqL1bmqq7BZ_pBN6VXTKcR_k2_CoGVFld4a8IAehXaP2zEs2cf-e/w397-h320/20231023_174528.jpg" width="397" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is how the fig trees looked after it was decided no longer </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>toput </span><span>up with the nuisance of hornets...they had started to come far too close to</span><span> the main house terrace - a dedicated human space. One early evening a brave human with a handy chain saw reduced the fig trees to ground level. But we hope for a more moderate size tree to appear next summer.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And now for why we cut down the fig tree that looked over the terrace of the main house - and looked right into my bedroom.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>The great leaves of the untamed fig tree,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Benevolent hands that spread shade</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Over the old wooden rocking chair,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Hide the small furry animal beneath.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Immobile it could be a much loved soft toy,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Dark brown with rounded ears,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>A small pointy face, shining birght currant eyes,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>A yellow bib under its chin.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>It looks at me, in bed with tea and a book,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Annoying human in his place....</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>The sharp teeth bite into the fig</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Held between two clawed, destructive paws,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Duck killer, egg stealer, the wild pine-marten.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-75371577527407147392023-11-06T10:04:00.000-08:002023-11-06T10:04:13.889-08:00The unprintable, the unseen, usually rare ...except at La Chaise!<p> <span style="font-size: medium;">As I was strolling up to the road, hoping for post in the post box...something strange in the grass caught my eye but not strange enough to stop me in my tracks. There were several of these strange mushrooms...at least ten on the short way to the gate. See below....pretend to hold your nose because it really is very smelly - unless it is raining.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPhjygiENzpsmLUR42FkQv2IzdNO4lEUikKCXpxhUKWM2QY5a8JzGWNOkUc_lbQ6B1z9LV41rlX0adK1cCdMrdSr7DjBEnXNnbmawvIu-fW7Xk1tG_gj8E36zF81GkxRpC354wynjhVh1Td0cGA6EHXg630-ASVUobHk39sfVY7COEqyZkMc3WsxTjNWel" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPhjygiENzpsmLUR42FkQv2IzdNO4lEUikKCXpxhUKWM2QY5a8JzGWNOkUc_lbQ6B1z9LV41rlX0adK1cCdMrdSr7DjBEnXNnbmawvIu-fW7Xk1tG_gj8E36zF81GkxRpC354wynjhVh1Td0cGA6EHXg630-ASVUobHk39sfVY7COEqyZkMc3WsxTjNWel=w422-h294" width="422" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>So I decided to look it up in one of my specialist mushroom books.....no luck. Aaach! I knew what it was because I have seen it every year in the driveway of La Chaise. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, take a deep breath.....it is the 'phallus impudicus' - and a more descriptive name one cannot imagine. But I was puzzed - not just because this time there were so many - but because none of my specialist mushroom books - all two of them in English - )listed it. I put the question to Stephanie - (resident expert in all matters plant related) and she came up with the idea that a) it was so rare it would only be in very academic books....and b) its name was too rude to be conveyed to the general, possibly underage, public.. I laughed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I went to my local bakery/wine/ etc general store and showed the picture to my friend who has worked there for years - is in fact part owner - her first reaction was:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Oh! a '<i>morille'</i>...a very prized mushroom indeed (except by me) and I had to disillusion her - but we both laughed...</span></div><p></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-36896690344969724182023-10-24T07:06:00.000-07:002023-10-24T07:06:12.902-07:00Desperately searching for the flea...<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">The other morning I woke up - irritable and irritated - even though it had seemed an ordinary night. My restless hands then found the problem - something had bitten me during the night, there were large, red, itchy patches on the front of my thighs. Adult discipline stopped me scratching them raw but it took me a while to remember that - hopefuly - I had a child's remedy in the bathroom cupboard. I did, Apaiysil Baby soothed the redness. </span></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Despite an excellent yesterday's egg from the chickens, even a reasonable cup of (decaf - sigh) coffee and proper toast, I did not recover my good humour and rather hid from people - not that there were any around.</span></p></blockquote><p> <span style="font-size: medium;">Eventually I overcame my shame and asked Stephanie what could possibly have <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>inflicted such horridness on me. She looke</span>d and very kindly did not laugh.</p><p> <span style="font-size: medium;">A flea, she said - it was a flea. Then she told me what I had to do....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> First I had to wash the sheets at 60 C for a long cycle...OK but the sheets were large and <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>the washer could not cope efficiently with more that one sheet at a time......</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span>So one sheet duly went into the washer at full strength for over an hour. The other I <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>decided to put into<span> </span>the dryer for a long cycle with the pillow cases. The blankets, heavy <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>duty wollen, posed more of a problem. The answer was the washing line and a child's <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>tennis raquet and my strong (huh) right arm.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span>The spots are still there but no longer itch - nor have they increased in number - but I am <span> </span><span> </span>still embarassed... still wondering where the flea came from...no indoor domestic animals.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> <br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">e dryer</span> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-59745624085214121502023-10-17T08:01:00.000-07:002023-10-17T08:01:41.364-07:00Waiting for rain - again<p><span style="font-size: medium;">So here we are again - waiting for the rain which will just not come. We have restrained ourselves from using mains water for the essential plants - not by virtue but because the old wine vat in the woodshed has long been converted into a water source. Accessing the outlet is rather tiresome as it is very low down but we soon learned to leave a bit of hose attached...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The plants are also quite confused and some are into a second flowering - witness the buddleia -known as the 'arbuste a papillons' in French - but there are no papillons until next year....</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTEyvJuHRa1Ze8OPCYQzGJ1odQlX7LlrXf8Xlw54_nC_lFalg3TFPO0JwtgvWV3THDdhjFVrENZQiZcpju9mSxY0kEyzMFgV8BeScQ7j7lJsNOHSWmtKqu4oEGTKNI39L6REiOUM3go4ioRpw4jasMnVd_tE1n-4UAueLGW8F_m71N7XElfuO9bh5MSgd/s4000/20231017_100058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTEyvJuHRa1Ze8OPCYQzGJ1odQlX7LlrXf8Xlw54_nC_lFalg3TFPO0JwtgvWV3THDdhjFVrENZQiZcpju9mSxY0kEyzMFgV8BeScQ7j7lJsNOHSWmtKqu4oEGTKNI39L6REiOUM3go4ioRpw4jasMnVd_tE1n-4UAueLGW8F_m71N7XElfuO9bh5MSgd/w316-h353/20231017_100058.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">France's most popular TV weather announcer - a glamorous blonde - was busy last night announcing the advent of rain from the north - the storm known as 'Babet'...is about to sweep over France quite soon. Only on my tablet's version of the weather this storm was firmly fixed to the very northern tip of Scotland...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Ah well! At least I can go back to my warm terrace with a cold beer and see how the 'chrysanthems' are doing...these are the flowers that celebrate the dead - they are well in bud already.....is that significant?<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-29682850316814888812023-10-15T09:45:00.000-07:002023-10-15T09:45:37.283-07:00A tree dies.....<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uVl0zsjmA5R_IET2SVN8hOFgWaynZuVuJdahFkF11XCrrWkqd7VbjISqWzzDho1vS7dE55pp9aYIcXZutOTSB4dv-nAsq17ffUGG8ury49UD7s4afKKGxg9swS15YrIYMLvHFvjkxBXapLGtlL9Kp65lVSA-n2ELZkFt1DRqKhpCi38GwalZSPKNsptB/s4000/20231014_183742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uVl0zsjmA5R_IET2SVN8hOFgWaynZuVuJdahFkF11XCrrWkqd7VbjISqWzzDho1vS7dE55pp9aYIcXZutOTSB4dv-nAsq17ffUGG8ury49UD7s4afKKGxg9swS15YrIYMLvHFvjkxBXapLGtlL9Kp65lVSA-n2ELZkFt1DRqKhpCi38GwalZSPKNsptB/w386-h421/20231014_183742.jpg" width="386" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">This is is a dying Cox's Orange apple tree.....we brought it with us probably some forty years ago when we first came to La Chaise. To be honest, we probably smuggled it in because countries are not keen on private individuals bringing in plants...But John did so want an English apple tree in our putative orchard...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We have cared for it with fertiliser, patching the holes in its bark, deterring greedy birds, pruning its excess growth. But nothing helped - I do not remember <i>ever</i> having a fruit from that tree. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Almost every year we removed the moss from its bark, patched the holes in its trunk, packed damp straw round the roots, added fertiliser but nary a fruit was seen.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The butter coloured toadstools at its root must now have the final word. We shall have to dig it out and burn it - or we should burn it but burning is forbidden at present because of the lack of rain....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Sadly it will have an unceremonious removal - nothing like the drama that accompanied the descent of the great oak whose remains can just be seen behind the apple tree.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But perhaps, just perhaps....when it is gone some shoots will come up in the place where it was...Look at the remains of the great oak - there is a young oak growing there...We can - and shall - hope.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-26279661125375266962023-10-11T09:26:00.000-07:002023-10-11T09:26:01.552-07:00Passing life comes back to one pond.<h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">A week or so ago, Stephanie spotted that we had an otter in the Black Pond in the woods. It was busy eating the dead carp, one by one. Where the otter came from I do not know, nor where he has now gone...</span></span></h2><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The two carp that I bought all those years ago - in the hope that they would keep the pond at the Farmhouse buildings clear of weeds and other growth - were struggling when Stephanie first arrived. The water was more like mud and not very deep mud at that. Stephanie announced that they had to be removed and put into the larger pond - the Black Pond in the Woods - that ran along the main roadside. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCDxbnV0hcEqcHPTKFSGgbbhAW7uE5y3gPdL-DdNHm6tPwMuY1Tw7NYCUEPrgBz25-phVQC64fXUuXKCX7bm0J94nlEbxphieynA-s9kHyhFX4qBfeC6DlGFTRjGafnk-nVCeEaNh8Ipi4ZPEvcjvccE1hcfjOfIYRNnlsoWDCSSOZ5itzubh5ItMIgRn/s4032/IMG_20220907_111937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCDxbnV0hcEqcHPTKFSGgbbhAW7uE5y3gPdL-DdNHm6tPwMuY1Tw7NYCUEPrgBz25-phVQC64fXUuXKCX7bm0J94nlEbxphieynA-s9kHyhFX4qBfeC6DlGFTRjGafnk-nVCeEaNh8Ipi4ZPEvcjvccE1hcfjOfIYRNnlsoWDCSSOZ5itzubh5ItMIgRn/s320/IMG_20220907_111937.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> In knee high wellie boots, with a laundry basket as a tool,(see pic) she fished the carp out, one by one, and carried them in a wheelbarrow to the upper pond.</span></span></h2><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNHwet59ZWkZFSWVnOaIXgNwuHoNWFKkDAWFg84YQcf19SyfHpE5SPHqnr51Tnrfk591VXnhN0fbAFkvPOoTV1vAQEB4M2uLFvpxDEwlLqRb_yfaJUHBUR9MArWI43h-B8NNBZYoPndlUZP2mbQaxbgF5dA8KTgvtzgZOTDeVzkyjDGjXbcGVPjZwYvWv/s4000/20231009_165156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNHwet59ZWkZFSWVnOaIXgNwuHoNWFKkDAWFg84YQcf19SyfHpE5SPHqnr51Tnrfk591VXnhN0fbAFkvPOoTV1vAQEB4M2uLFvpxDEwlLqRb_yfaJUHBUR9MArWI43h-B8NNBZYoPndlUZP2mbQaxbgF5dA8KTgvtzgZOTDeVzkyjDGjXbcGVPjZwYvWv/w302-h320/20231009_165156.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-weight: 400;"> <i>This is the Black Pond in the Woods</i></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The carp took well to the transfer but promptly slid down into the mud so that we could not really see them.The occasional piece of stale bread would bring them to the surface but not much else did.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Sadly Stefanie did not manage to get a picture of the otter that was - so helpfully - tidying up the Black Pond. We do not know from where he came - or why, perhaps he could smell dead fish? Nor do we know to where he - sorry, perhaps 'she' - has gone.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I have always been curious - and never got a good reason - why the buildings of La Chaise were built nowhere near any fresh water springs. Once I did employ a 'diviner' to look for springs at La Chaise - we had hopes of one in the ravine - but he dashed our hopes.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There were wells near the buildings, one largish one for the Farmhouse complex and a smaller one near the main house. One of my first actions at La Chaise was to get the well walls built up, above small child height, and lids put on. The main house well was soon filled in as a sycamore tree had decided to grow next to it, roots happily in the mud. It now has roses in it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The Farmhouse well was next to its pond - it was one of those low entrance wells, the housewife would kneel in front of it, lower her bucket and pull it back up. Obviously that had to go when our 20th century tourists came to stay. But the pond is still there.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And now I have a modern solution to keeping the Farmhous pond fresh! The Farmhouse has just been (expensively) re-roofed and I have added gutttering with a down pipe whose water will be led to the pond...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Who knows? After a winter perhaps the wild ducks or the cranes will come back and refresh themselves on their long treks between Morroco and the Netherlands.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></div>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-40837395270242989582023-10-09T02:33:00.001-07:002023-10-09T02:33:42.757-07:00Some joys in old age...<p><span style="font-size: large;"> Failing memory is said to be one of the 'afflications' of old age. Now that I acknowledge that I am officially 'old' - I succumbed to this definition also. When I am in my usual cafe in St Astier quite often elderly women come and join me in my solitude - and they start chattering...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I know I know them because the faces are familiar. But I do not know who they are or why/how I know them. So I mostly just listen to their outpourings and interject - where I can - polite questions or comments but I never accept a drink...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But when at home my failing memory has had a positive result. I do not remember where I have put things, sometimes I do not even know specifically what I am missing. The positive side of all this is the amount of <i>exercise</i> I get walking round the house, going up the stairs, even sometimes to the garage or the vegetable garden, all in search of whatever it was. Sometimes I even find things I did not know I had lost....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My new motto: be positive</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-85805941991278204872023-10-06T06:18:00.000-07:002023-10-06T06:18:01.273-07:00Same old, same old.....mushroom madness.<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> Yes, once again it is mushroom madness in the Dordogne! The only difference this year is that the sun is shining and no one is getting wet...There are cars parked dangerously behind trees, there are elderly people in rubber boots in ditches....And for why? Because there has been an exceptional emergence of <i>BOLETUS EDULIS...</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lkcdpuZ4DngLyTQSkC2V_NbLm3aM4Oxisyoulev0Q2NikPO5o1MfKfl8oDUBwpIR-S64kzxYTFP9Uh9_Hqrkis440cEwTA2AyP_167lokjyN-8nYhDmlfkvvUZQsCDIcnrdahl6R9ai6vohD_kAupZl71RlD3ixCL6mFTaBj_3yyhAoomsvXW2x1Yiug/s4080/20230929_140018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3060" data-original-width="4080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lkcdpuZ4DngLyTQSkC2V_NbLm3aM4Oxisyoulev0Q2NikPO5o1MfKfl8oDUBwpIR-S64kzxYTFP9Uh9_Hqrkis440cEwTA2AyP_167lokjyN-8nYhDmlfkvvUZQsCDIcnrdahl6R9ai6vohD_kAupZl71RlD3ixCL6mFTaBj_3yyhAoomsvXW2x1Yiug/s320/20230929_140018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Stephanie - with the aid of TDH* Martin - managed to collect 20 kg just from the La Chaise fields and woodland fringes. It took only a little persuasion on her part for me to acquire an electric vegetable dryer....a very elegant, transparent device that now lurks on a shelf in the barn...It has been working night and day - I have been assured that its electricity consumption is very light.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Now - while no-body is really listening - I will confess that I dislike the boletus, it is spongy in consistency and very strongly flavoured, even in an omelette I find it disagreeable...Now for the big BUT...the reason for drying it. Slivers of the dried mushroom give a most wonderful flavour to red meat stews - beef or game - obviously long term stewing with the appropriate strong local red wines.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But I must be patient....although the formal hunt season has started my hunters have not yet come up with their usual tribute of haunch of venison or wild boar...it will happen.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">*TDH = Tall, Dark,Handsome</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-80610478523089393352023-09-27T04:24:00.000-07:002023-09-27T04:24:53.466-07:00An informal community...<p><span style="font-size: medium;">It has just occurred to me that - although I am the legal owner of the property known as 'La Chaise' - it seems to have developed into a sort of commune where various outsiders' skills and needs meet my lack of skill though much in need.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The fields are an example: grassland needs mowing or pasturing otherwise it just rots. Since I gave up sheep-keeping because of age - (mine, not the sheeps') I have had to find well equipped strangers to do the mowing - largish mowing equipment is needed, proper hay making machines. The deal here is that the person + machine who does the mowing and gets to keep the hay and I get clean fields, hopefully in time for the mushrooms to show their caps...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">T</span><span style="font-size: large;">he individual trees are an even better example...I forget how many walnut trees are planted but I have not forgotten the chore of picking up the individual nuts...assuming the wild boar has not ploughed through them...Since my time some clever person has created a gadget for collecting the nuts. This looks rather like a football made with metal fencing on a long stick, The gather strolls to and fro, rolling his gadget into which the nuts neatly fall.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But it is the surrounding woodland that has produced the best partnership of all - between this land and woodland owner and the local <i>'chasseurs' </i>- the 'hunters' who want to stalk and shoot the wild life in both field and woodland. It is in their interest that the wild game stays localised in my woods and fields. So I have had much help with fencing - I buy the material, they install it. There is </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" class="placeholder" height="240" id="02efe9cf976e3" src="https://www.blogger.com/img/transparent.gif" style="background-color: #d8d8d8; background-image: url('https://fonts.gstatic.com/s/i/materialiconsextended/insert_photo/v6/grey600-24dp/1x/baseline_insert_photo_grey600_24dp.png'); background-position: center; background-repeat: no-repeat; opacity: 0.6;" width="320" /></div></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p> </p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-13819934995022262852023-09-01T09:45:00.000-07:002023-09-01T09:45:41.269-07:001001 ways with a home grown courgette<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 20pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">1001 ways with a home grown courgett</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">e</span></p><p><b id="docs-internal-guid-acec750e-7fff-7347-1564-640b30202b97" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br /><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Fatly sliced, or in chunks, to be stewed or pan fried</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">With onions, garlic, tomatoes, herb bouquet all tied;</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Or grated into spiced flour and dropped in hot oil</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">To emerge as that gourmet delight, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">zucchini fritti;</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Or hand cut, lightly battered to make vegetable chips</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Whose deep fried nature on children plays tricks</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Or layered with potatoes, topped with strong cheese</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Baked over lamb mince, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">moussaka</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> will usually please;</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Or if too big, stuffed with plain rice and poor meat,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">An old English Fifties country house watery treat;</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Or if very young, finely sliced, dressed oil, first </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">pressee</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Expected by the modern, advanced diner as salad </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">entree.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The Great Green Marrow is Vegetable-in-Chief,</span></p><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 49.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Bullies cooks all summer till winter breaks, oh blessed relief.</span></p><div><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-80650318748083071002023-07-03T05:45:00.000-07:002023-07-03T05:45:15.168-07:00La Chaise's strangest pest?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHd9GFAjQNs6gavARhrcpVe6zOA00XurtgdBKDoLQROKsEp4bwCMKI9p_3HpP9acPCFKyeULVxWIRpQsgSz-rIivIWRaLk0RsrCfffbAGekxNBpUPIIpAl-PDsSga1g-VIE8NYQSAi7RlvTbYuSzBPYH8B7IwUuDR27o7qovZYzbSezUSH6QPaHyfa9Cc/s4080/IMG_20230622_153643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="2296" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHd9GFAjQNs6gavARhrcpVe6zOA00XurtgdBKDoLQROKsEp4bwCMKI9p_3HpP9acPCFKyeULVxWIRpQsgSz-rIivIWRaLk0RsrCfffbAGekxNBpUPIIpAl-PDsSga1g-VIE8NYQSAi7RlvTbYuSzBPYH8B7IwUuDR27o7qovZYzbSezUSH6QPaHyfa9Cc/w268-h320/IMG_20230622_153643.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /> This is a slug - anyone can see that it is a slug.....but Stephanie knew its proper name - it is a 'Leopard Slug' and she said it is cannibal - somewhere there is a picture of one slug eating another - but I think that is too horrible to publish<p></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-16193876138479706652023-07-03T05:30:00.000-07:002023-07-03T05:30:58.026-07:00Pine trees - the new crop for savy landowners...<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> When called to attend an Annual General Meeting most people, I suspect will think various thoughts - starting with 'Oh Gawd, no' then conscience kicking in and saying ' you really should attend..after all, who knows what stupidities might be decided/executed that affect you..??</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My decision to attend the AGM of the Syndicat des Proprietaires Forestiers Sylviculteurs de la Dordogne was rather more I dignified I like to think. There is a new inhabitant at La Chaise, one who is beginning to be particularly interested in wood, woodlands and woodland management generally. Martin had just recently cut down an oak much higher than the house because I wanted to decide where it should come to land rather than wait for a random wind to drop it just anywhere...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In order to encourage his interest I had entered him for a course run by the SPFS especially for young woodmen. It pleased him and furthered his interest - he also met other youngsters looking for these skills. The Dordogne is one of the most densely forest covered of the French provinces, mostly oak and chestnut according to local information.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Also I have vague ideas about tidying some scrubby woodlands on the edges of my valley and replanting with oak and chestnut - and perhaps some other species - I was thinking of elms in particular. (As a Dutchwoman I feel somehow responsible for 'Dutch Elm Disease' but why, i do not know). There is a France wide national plan for re-wooding and some 800 hectares could possibly be involved in the Dordogne. Doubtless there will be some form of financial aid.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In the very beginning of our ownership of La Chaise , well over 40 years ago, we cleared a scruffy valley and planted all pines - which particular type of pine I cannot remember, there are, after all, over 170 different types of pine. These pines had to be kept standing for 30 years according to some agreement details of which I do not remember - but some costs were tax deductible. They were duly cut and sold to a wood mill to be turned into paper or slats for crates.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In the years we had to keep this pinery, it had to be kept clear of invader greenery especially whilst it was still short. There are quite a few wild animals that like pines - rabbits will eat the new growth, deer will feast on the higher, tougher branches, wild boar will trample them and turn them into mush....This is where the local '<i>chasse'</i> comes in and we make a bargain. The chasseurs will keep the destructive wild animals and so keep the woodland clear and they will be allowed to keep the game. I do occasionally get a sizeable joint of wild boar but it is not easy to cook - in fact is probably an acquired taste.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The meeting was quite well attended with quite a noticeable number of women - so I did not feel conspicuous. There was the usual interchange of opinions - during which neither speaker listened to what the other had said - and the solitary voice of a 'chasseur' drew attention to their contribution to woodland management.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Somehow the general tone began to unsettle me, nobody said anything disagreable but the general attitude to tree planting seemed somehow wrong. It was the discussion as to when best to cut down the pines and how to market them - I heard that the cut could be done as early as 14 years after plantation.....</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Only last year we were obliged to cut down a centennial oak because of a malady that made it unstable and likely to fall - some of the smaller branches had already fallen. I organised an evening farewell party for the tree to which our closest friends had been invited. The following day the professionals would come - the elegantly named 'elageurs-grimpeurs'...who with terrifying skill took the tree down bit by bit as you can see below...</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSvRdaiMLc1olBm3vdlI7Ix20vgX_iU_Ec2Jcm7BqZJWvIoclbHV8xBHJXcIL4a_N48_qDXEVJCUIyyNinsoeY8TtO1qY4SyHEPc7glkxAnV-zqFH-sddqpNVnzzgQBdLORPCNwkWz9Bx8MDuhEtMeTfhU71naHD_XZ0KJJE7YqgqKj7iNshz40ESdr38/s4000/20221007_163251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSvRdaiMLc1olBm3vdlI7Ix20vgX_iU_Ec2Jcm7BqZJWvIoclbHV8xBHJXcIL4a_N48_qDXEVJCUIyyNinsoeY8TtO1qY4SyHEPc7glkxAnV-zqFH-sddqpNVnzzgQBdLORPCNwkWz9Bx8MDuhEtMeTfhU71naHD_XZ0KJJE7YqgqKj7iNshz40ESdr38/s320/20221007_163251.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All right, I am being overly sentimental....I remember as a very young girl putting a long veil on my head and, leaning out of my bedroom window, giving an emotional speech to an enormous Lebanon Cedar, subject not remembered...but there was quite an audiance of red squirrels...</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I cannot get my head round the idea of getting trees to grow - then cutting them down before their maturity - to me they are not like vegetables, not maize or sweet corn - there is still a link to the gods of old.</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-34902950251209981752023-06-24T10:51:00.000-07:002023-06-24T10:51:08.981-07:00The joys - and annoyances - of a Dordogne spring...<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> <span style="font-size: medium;">Oh, joy! It is well into Spring here in the Dordogne - in fact we have just left May but the wild orchids are still flourishing. Or so I am told because I (poor me) suffer from 'hay fever' which should perhaps be more correctly described as 'pollen fever'. Not only am I alergic to the grass pollen but also to that of the pines of which we have a great number....I had better stop here or I shall be accused of boasting...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Wild orchids seem to be great individualists...they come up where they like which is not necessarily the best place for people or other co-users of the property. It complicates Stephanie's gardening life because she will not mow in order to save the orchids but is very disapproving of uncontrolled grass. We shall skip over the feelings of 'Kevin' who is supposed to take the hay off my fields but has been told to delay - like last year. However, he should console himself with the possible fact that the grass might possibly be very nearly hay dry by the time he gets to cut it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7Tx9a3LN-In-bA4NNZJ5LO617MMYwOLhc1_EGxlEdjXMzhUZp3yxfGgpgoWdpCVRERCDi37e4nad8kcm_CHi2KF7HON8eTSqxiDsb7FvixsWrAw8WU6qQAj4R9kxsbyKJa93tprlFmN1UyC7yR0L9AN0CKxKAw4xpndmfxiqcf7c6XqCOcxdRf7QgA/s2592/DSC07242_125533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7Tx9a3LN-In-bA4NNZJ5LO617MMYwOLhc1_EGxlEdjXMzhUZp3yxfGgpgoWdpCVRERCDi37e4nad8kcm_CHi2KF7HON8eTSqxiDsb7FvixsWrAw8WU6qQAj4R9kxsbyKJa93tprlFmN1UyC7yR0L9AN0CKxKAw4xpndmfxiqcf7c6XqCOcxdRf7QgA/s320/DSC07242_125533.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22LK2kOP_oVO-wVrIga14-hfNyu9lidJedtk81A2M2Xf9c0a9xMj6xcj6P86xDl-qdxcWTOl2MELf2UgQzc2F5kU3Wpx4iVY_GUu-AIrIBCou_QMX7QhFbZhu7IpcDsn3oi0MrbQSWWnuEGMUdEL__hwl1G4QafqQRC1RvWX8Eq5aT3VeDlRsBFIOOw/s2592/DSC07070_125813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22LK2kOP_oVO-wVrIga14-hfNyu9lidJedtk81A2M2Xf9c0a9xMj6xcj6P86xDl-qdxcWTOl2MELf2UgQzc2F5kU3Wpx4iVY_GUu-AIrIBCou_QMX7QhFbZhu7IpcDsn3oi0MrbQSWWnuEGMUdEL__hwl1G4QafqQRC1RvWX8Eq5aT3VeDlRsBFIOOw/s320/DSC07070_125813.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwM9s37Qv5T3e4wj-5Ga1EVITR4U3sdsP7tfavpU6c6GMYd1_77CVQXMyuFFz5KirsbF9C4YJLGEYU3_B6qpl0E82zE2D2CarI7UQ-0pqucE-nY3dfGS_YuVutLTaKCCY_-kl0hNKLTTuHpYu81hi42_9c4Wj2a0n7msnuTrWo5cAfRuy-bFDE0ndXXA/s2592/DSC07613_094200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwM9s37Qv5T3e4wj-5Ga1EVITR4U3sdsP7tfavpU6c6GMYd1_77CVQXMyuFFz5KirsbF9C4YJLGEYU3_B6qpl0E82zE2D2CarI7UQ-0pqucE-nY3dfGS_YuVutLTaKCCY_-kl0hNKLTTuHpYu81hi42_9c4Wj2a0n7msnuTrWo5cAfRuy-bFDE0ndXXA/s320/DSC07613_094200.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And here you have three of the best: from the top..'orchis jaune', followed by 'orchis hybride = because combines two types of orchid, the insect and the spider, lastly is the 'orchis troll'....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">which should please all Nordic readers as well as readers of Nordic myths.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Curiously enough this year the 'orchis bouc' - the one that smells of billy goat - has not come back to protect my front gate from unwanted intruders - in fact it does not seem to be appearing anywhere.</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-85455847463938790012023-05-22T13:21:00.000-07:002023-05-22T13:21:28.243-07:00notes from the La Chaise study...adult bedroom<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">OK - so originally these two rooms had a floor to ceiling wall between them and were part of the addition to the main house when the then proprietor added them in order to house his mother in law - including the barn and wine cellar and the two small rooms that housed wine barrels and the present day woodshed - </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The room that is now - as I write 17/04/23 - my bedroom was originally the main living/sleeping room for the in-laws, there was a wood fired stove where there is now my wash-basin... and the downstairs room was the kitchen/dining sitting room..there was a glass panelled door between the two...Cooking was done in the open fireplace next to which was a cupboard for crockery and other useful stuff.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When Harry was born the upper room became his bedroom and I had added a washbasin, we (the parents) slept in the room down a short flight of stairs - the room that is now ((april 23) set up as a dining room - and Clea later joined him there. So they had a sleeping room and, down the short of steps - a playroom with all their toys. There was a memorable incident: Clea could not yet walk, so slithered down the steps to get to the toy area....she fell and let out a tremendous yell, Harry came rushing to find me, was reassured to see her sitting up....'I thought she was broken' he said.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Some years later - when Harry had graduated to an extended 'lit bateau' upstairs in the attic and Clea had the whole front room to herself, with a very posh desk, lots of dolls and soft toys...my architect cousin Tom from the Netherlands came to stay. The good thing about architects is that they can always see improvements, the bad thing is that it often costs money...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">John and I used the upstairs room as our bedroom - pat self on back for useful washbasin - and John used the downstairs room as his office. We had installed my Dutch grandfather's imposing oak desk - the one he used when he was chief of police in Rotteram - and John added an expensive leather desk chair that swivels. A Jotul cast iron stove warmed the room - Clea had once managed to set fire to its flue, at least then we did not have to have it swept...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Tom came, sort of approved but pointed out that the wall between the two rooms was not only useless but also ugly - it had to come down. The damp walls could be hidden, according to him, by elegant oak panelling and, indeed, in the place of the demolished wall clothes hanging cupboards could be installed. The proportions of the panelling were directly linked to the panels of the half glass door to the garden....</span></p><p><br /></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-51390318945498788512023-04-17T06:11:00.000-07:002023-04-17T06:11:20.376-07:00Mores notes about 'Stuff' in the house....<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Sorry </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">but this is going to be a bit of a ramble, like the previous one....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">All the 'blue' glass stuff in the house - whether bowls or other form of containers - is Jordanian glass - we bought in in Bahrain no doubt...all hand shaped and blown - and tougher than it looks..</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Also the hall cupboard which also has brass inlay probably also came from Bahrain...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When your father decided to set up his freight agency in Bahrain - I forget the year but there had just been a huge upsurge in the price of oil and the Arabs were feeling rich and hugely buying 'stuff' - causing much shortage of cargo space, hence the freight agency - he rented an unfurnished house and imported a 'package' of house furniture from a London retailer (Conran or Habitat) which comprised beds, tables, chairs, probably a sofa...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Communication was by telephone and telex machines which were operated by punched tape produced by a form of typewriter which I had to use....fortunately having done a typing course many years before...Unfortunately the climate of Bahrain was very humid which meant the tape was often damp and could tear....so I had to iron it before processing it..</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The brass table in the sitting room dates back to this period too - it probably was imported from nearby India...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The screens upstairs decidedly came from India, sadly I no longer remember what tropical hardwood was used...</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-90431987511302523232023-01-08T09:38:00.002-08:002023-03-25T11:06:11.430-07:00<p><br /></p><p>As I was having a conversation with Clea in the sitting room, she raised a question about a conple of paintings....and I asked her if she was curious about all the things, would she like some background? Answer yes...</p><p>But first I should answer the question: why elesphants and bears? When the war ended in the Netherlands, roughly in 1944 - I was only just born. My mother, an excellent scrounger and finder of impossible things during the war, found me a bear, a very big bear. Bear and I shared a cot for many years.</p><p>My maternal grandfather, Brigadier Coloneil Wilhem van der Vlerk, when courting my future maternal grandmother, was posted to what was then the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia). Every year he was away he posted her an elephant, large black with ivory tusks. Eventually there were four - of whom I now have three ....on the lintel of the kitchen doorway.</p><p>When my mother took me to England - she had married an English soldier - Bear came with me and also my new ability to read - in Dutch of course. Somewhere in the boxes there is a picture of me sitting at a child's desk, reading a book - it was Barbar the Elephant - I assume it is in Dutch. I use the present tense because it is somewhere in La Chaise, in fact there are several Barbar the Elephant books upstairs - the large foolscape sized, hard backed ones. She and her new husband moved frequently - almost every five years - my main security was Bear and my Barbar the Elephant books</p><p><br /></p><p>But now, into the sitting room ....where I see a child's chair with a pink padded seat - that is MY chair that came with me from the Netherlands - in the picture it was painted blue and yellow...There is a second child's chair, more in the English style with rounded back...possibly Regency period. It came from Kimsbury, the Percival house in Gloucestershire - which will crop up from time to time...and was probably used by your father..John.</p><p>The large gilt framed pictures over the radiator (bad positioning!!) are of the River Spey in Scotland - a precise point which John used to fish for salmon every July, a passion he learned from his father, Alexander Hope Percival. I cannot remember why or when we acquired these paintings - including the little one over the CD shelvwes - but I do know that the River Spey was usually running through muddy,mossy, weed-full GREEN stuff.</p><p>Somewhere there is a photo of John fishing under the bridge in the picture...and I have very clear memories of the fight with winds to cross that bridge, even when in a car... </p><p>John's mother had bought a house at Nethybridge, just outside of Grantown on Spey, for herself as a rival interest to Kimbsbury, and for her fishing mad hushand, Alexander, and son John. They spent most of the summer there when Alexander retired and before John had to take a job..</p><p><br /></p><p>The sitting room furniture came mostly from Kimsbury ( a fairly hideous Victorian country house) when John's father decided to sell the property - my favourite piece is the rocking chair I did not chose the colours - as far as I can remember - Catherine, John's mother was very fond of pink and blue for decorating..</p><p>The very large bird tapestry is one that I bought - I think - in Fulham (London) way back when, probably 50 years...probably for my house which I had just bought in Clapham (south London)...but I cannot swear to this...hanging next to it is a fly whisk with ivory handle and horsehair, it would have been used by the elephant mahoots...</p><p>The two framed embroideries have different histories: Clea thinks I did the one on the terrace wall but I doubt this, too perfect, too long to create. The other is one I definitely had framed, it was part of a fire guard that had got damaged. Below it is the most interestting piece of furniture in the room - a corner cupboard probably of the Georgian period - probably the most valuable as well.</p><p>The three white board shelves holding all the DVD's are the only sign of DIY by John - but then the disc collection was his...the two metal birds on the bottom shelf are Persian oil lamps; the gilt and orange drum on the shelf above is a Chinese 'biscuit' container, on the topmost shelf there is an ostrich egg and what I think is a South Korean tea-pot that John back from a trip there...</p><p>(The sofa is of no interest whatsoever except that it is covered by an old pink kelim in need of repair)</p><p>There are two pieces of furniture which I believe we brought back from our time in Bahrain - the rectangular brass table and the two tier brass inlaid trolley which has been so wonderfully restored by Eric le Belge..</p><p>The floor carpet is definitely an Afghan which John probably bought in a London sale...all I can remember about it is that he said its colour was due to being soaked in camel pee...actually I think I might have bought it at Peter Jones, Sloan Square....</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-62914365079153510992022-06-13T13:25:00.001-07:002022-06-14T12:43:02.688-07:00the day the dishwasher died....<p> <span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, for reasons only best known to the machine - my dishwasher decided to give up the ghost. It showed this by refusing to drain and sending me repeated 'BIP' messages asking me to 'verify' the water levels. Whilst I speak a number of languages BIP/BEEP is not amongst them.... and everytime I opened the dishwasher to check on the water, there was water, water everywhere.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The setting I had chosen was for an 'intensive' wash - so I decided this might be too strong and changed it for a normal programme .....which worked apparently perfectly..except the dishes, though clean, were not quite dry...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And then I noticed the machine had not properly drained...so, gloves on, I fished around in the drain but found no impediment. Next solution: there must be a blocage, so I reach for the sink plunger. Of course, sod's law, no sink plunger where there should have been a sink plunger. Quick trip to the local hardware store (nine kms away) to buy the last plunger it had..</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But that was no use, no amount of plunging brought up any obstructive matter...and the power supply to the machine died. So now I am back to handwashing dishes, pans, cutlerly and glassware - only to find how much I had forgotten.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The use of rubber gloves, what to wash first, how to set washed items properly in the drainage rack, how to rinse after washing to get rid of the soap...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My mind went back to memories of my number two American stepmother preparing to load her dishwasher....I always mocked her because she rinsed the dishes before loading the machine...now I think she was right. Machines are not as good as people.</span></p><p><br /></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-28331176240909692292022-06-09T07:29:00.000-07:002022-06-09T07:29:54.469-07:00Return of the Weather Gods...<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: arial;">The Weather Gods are at it again...having mizzled us all into thinking summer was nearly here - if not actually here..everyone relaxed and sun-bathed. Plants woke up and started their usual summer cycle, putting out flowers, starting fruits, growing more densely. Possibly this was the third year running that the Perigord had such a warm May.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Someone pointed out that this May was the driest since that of 2020, a mathmatically minded commentator observed that there was 45% less humidity...Gloomsters suggested that the likelihood of warmer summers would also increase the likelihood of forest fires....</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Here at La Chaise I am not too worried even though our house is firmly in a woodland glen, all around the wood appears of have been cleared. The blight on chestnut trees of the last couple of years had something to do with his.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now we are in June - and on its second day the Weather Gods threw an ice-storm with hail, lashing rains and winds.. Guess where? Yes - on the vinyards of the Bergeracois and Langedoc...</span></span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-84451614391803609752022-05-31T00:54:00.002-07:002022-05-31T00:54:55.377-07:00<p> <span style="font-size: medium;">This last week - starting May 10 - has seen the greatest blossoming/presence of wild orchids at La Chaise since....oh, since we have been here some 40 years ago.....Sadly with the joy of such rare plants come human quarrels....this because the grasslands of La Chaise have been let to a random local person who is entitled to take the hay from the fields. And this person is using the phrase 'exploit' in its more pejorative sense.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqDcFuZlWkSi-0NwcSqQhMoaVaV2G-7R0O1e-nKhwYyLSpV1ioW27k2X8d-9ZoUYEJJU-8AItKUIo93S0HhPYzS4goPzrhcvMIEublmRBVARllS0v5G5HbnAX2bdbRdyfDnh01sk0vNU3OKHEvzjkFe7mcnojPlJ7HsTWmjz5ri_madrEsb71JjJZ9" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqDcFuZlWkSi-0NwcSqQhMoaVaV2G-7R0O1e-nKhwYyLSpV1ioW27k2X8d-9ZoUYEJJU-8AItKUIo93S0HhPYzS4goPzrhcvMIEublmRBVARllS0v5G5HbnAX2bdbRdyfDnh01sk0vNU3OKHEvzjkFe7mcnojPlJ7HsTWmjz5ri_madrEsb71JjJZ9" width="135" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4EdRGaLF_5VPqfqg1bNI-IlRdBl7SfgfYawSLtcQfgkn2niNekzo4j0DBC39MM4FgHUmPlE30iaKuJdwoclZeNhVRUQXl_Si9-4Mo6RxEimAGSaoly69MhTUxUK4V_SS2NYL6Ua5HzXejtnBFwC0yeMKisUocCaw-qafYENVdgafvvvwvoD_11hpw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4EdRGaLF_5VPqfqg1bNI-IlRdBl7SfgfYawSLtcQfgkn2niNekzo4j0DBC39MM4FgHUmPlE30iaKuJdwoclZeNhVRUQXl_Si9-4Mo6RxEimAGSaoly69MhTUxUK4V_SS2NYL6Ua5HzXejtnBFwC0yeMKisUocCaw-qafYENVdgafvvvwvoD_11hpw" width="135" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We have had orchids at La Chaise before - in fact the sheep used to rest on the biggest display of 'lazy purples' regularly seen under the corner ash tree in the main field. But this time we have had some truly exotic ones - stems decorated with imitation bumble bees, some with flies - there was even one known as the 'hanging man' orchid because it seemed there was a skinny green skeleton hanging inside its petals.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSqzBsjUFyQFi48uWwlaQUvTYtUgZsuB0tLkfIQT4ZNiCeuh-6kcEQ2oOQUGrfrUCIHjj4AkJr9l1191FGYLaiS8bFmm3uFYkuf2YV4JZaVbASjBTggw06IZPNx5UEr0BfcwL-FEe3CXTZ881Q7uaDxeK8HbTCGHtFRh-x4j9cvP58ISeDXh4xrc-A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="5184" data-original-width="3888" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSqzBsjUFyQFi48uWwlaQUvTYtUgZsuB0tLkfIQT4ZNiCeuh-6kcEQ2oOQUGrfrUCIHjj4AkJr9l1191FGYLaiS8bFmm3uFYkuf2YV4JZaVbASjBTggw06IZPNx5UEr0BfcwL-FEe3CXTZ881Q7uaDxeK8HbTCGHtFRh-x4j9cvP58ISeDXh4xrc-A" width="180" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> </span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But what has been different this year is that there has been a greater show of public interest - and consequently administrative interference....Official bodies have been set up to 'administer' the life of these flowers....what are know as 'arretes' in french are issued that threaten fines on any one who is know to have destroyed orchids. Of course if one is haymaking it is difficult, given the size of present day hay-making tractors, to skim round a fragile plant which sometimes is no higher than the grass</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So this year, Stephanie who is our 'gardienne' at La Chaise and is highly qualified in the subject of wild flowers, put stakes and warning ribbons round the plants...fortunately most of them were near existing fencing so it really should not have been a problem. Equally fortunately the plants are very short lived - possibly not more than a week for the whole cycle from emergence to flowering to fruition - eventually the 'exploitant' agreed to differ his mowing until he was called. He is probably sacrificing many things, praying very hard, that the May meteo stays clement - so far no sign of rain.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My suggestion for a collective noun? A profusion.....</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-16924724433543830602022-05-31T00:52:00.002-07:002022-05-31T00:52:56.654-07:00<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 31.5pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 21pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Summer - orchids</span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-959ef917-7fff-0a69-6071-3ea376d91e0f"><br /><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Chalk stones, age blackened, are slathered</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">down the hillside like petrified spume,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">thrown from fields below by calloused hands,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">to grow the staff of life - oats, barley or rye.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The cairn, labour’s monument, now</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">collapsed near the field’s edge of marjoram and thyme.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Frost-split stones show fossils of shells. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Here was once the Sea.</span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Today wild oats, barley or rye grow over the heap,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">trefoil and clover creep, mossy patches slither</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Solitary orchids rise above waves of wild grasses</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">a dark pink pyramid, heavy head bending the stem</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">a bright green spear, apparently adorned with flies.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Bees and spiders also have honeyed traps,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">pale pink or spotted, each with its insect idol </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 0pt 9pt; text-indent: -9pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">inviting from the flower’s throat.</span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">This mycophilic orchid powders its dupe </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">with grains of pollen to fertilise others of its kind.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Below earth, the hair tendrils of mycelium,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">fed by their aerial host, wait to nurse its ripening seed, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">germ of another sweet flowered, insect attractive</span></p><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 27pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">fungus nourishing, rare plant.</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038204441197472383.post-5451509739658335022021-10-15T06:16:00.000-07:002021-10-15T06:16:22.566-07:00BEWARE of the CROCUS - something rotting in the soil<p> <span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">An important addition - and correction - to my last piece on the crocus....I have just found a short </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">note</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> I wrote many, many years ago on the very subject: read carefully...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large;"> '....August ends abruptly....the early rays of the sun later reveal the sudden presence of the autumn <br />crocus..This leafless flower seems not quite of our world, its translucent, anaemic hollow stems barely support the long, pale lilac petals,a fully opened head often breaks the stem...It is as though all its nutrients come from something rotting in the soil, as though the sun is irrelevant to its being. It likes deep clay soils and 'nutritious substances' particularly nitrogen bearing... </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzLpHkLhyQ-PApjemCqVl_1ipctFvjeQkZ8ztLTBgC14QsjWJdDSsCxpUyiTYcPYzKsYSJyCjlUA2PkwCYFvk4CdYUJFIFj1FGpOKAQ7ACLuu0S_ze-M8ls6spcxRoTa3l7wJSDR1kEvla/s4896/IMG_20210905_1927242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4896" data-original-width="3672" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzLpHkLhyQ-PApjemCqVl_1ipctFvjeQkZ8ztLTBgC14QsjWJdDSsCxpUyiTYcPYzKsYSJyCjlUA2PkwCYFvk4CdYUJFIFj1FGpOKAQ7ACLuu0S_ze-M8ls6spcxRoTa3l7wJSDR1kEvla/s320/IMG_20210905_1927242.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>this quote comes from a French book on wild flowers - sorry I have forgotten the name)</i></span><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>....</i><span style="font-size: large;">Then I continue to quote: ....it is not a crocus at all, </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">but...(<i>fam liliaceae </i>rather than <i>fam iridaceae) </i>but a 'colquique - deadly poisonous in unmanaged quantities, apparently good for gout if distilled into drops - its vulgar name in French is 'dog-killer' - mort aux chiens...</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">How could I have forgotten!! </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">old age coming on fast.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">APOLOGIES!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">(in the last war, in occupied Netherlands my mother used to boil - carefully - tulip bulbs for sugar)</span></p>doina percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042381250371154092noreply@blogger.com0