So enough with England already... let's have a look at what's been going on here in the French countryside. Actually, the same kind of grey, wet, cold weather as was happening in London and Leeds but somehow it's not so bad out in the country as it is when you're pounding the pavement in search of urban culture. Here, it's truly possible to say, "well it's good for the garden"... as it is. I've got my little "potager" (small kitchen garden, nothing too major) pretty well established now, although there's still some further planting to do next week. But I've had my first crop, as of a few days ago, planted in March by my daughter...
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| In France, radishes are served with sweet butter as an appetizer |
While I was in England, my friends Sandra and Daniel came here in my absence to do several chores that needed to be done -- laying new tiles on the front terrace, and cutting the grass below the wall and in the orchard and olive grove (a big job). With some of the cut grass, they made me this wonderful welcome-home "face" (who remembers FRAGGLE ROCK and the talking garbage pile?) that I think deserves a place in the Tate Modern...
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| This is one grass pile I'll have trouble burning, it's a keeper |
And here's another shot from "life at Mas Blanc"... down by the river, just as dusk was deepening, I caught our local beaver in action... you can see his tail sticking out of the water as he gnaws on a branch that seems to be his equivalent of stick-candy... He's a busy little fellow, this guy...
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| Strangely, the local beavers don't DO anything with the trees they fell, except for chewing on the remains |
In spite of grey skies and cold wind (5 degrees), I took two sets of visitors up to FLORAC last week, one of the villages in the Cevennes National Park that I really have come to love. Now, whether it's the setting (striking cliffs loom over the village) or the architecture (stone buildings that have darkened over the centuries) or the main-street cafe that serves fresh rainbow trout with the best french fries in the WORLD... yes, it may well be that last item on the list. That was my lunch twice last week and both times I came away happy, ready to drive the narrow and windy route back down to Anduze and home again, a trip of two hours, perhaps a little more... whereas the national road from Ales up to Florac is a wide, beautifully surfaced highway, the departmental roads in the back country can be narrow enough for only one car at a time, so passing is a matter of politesse and prayer (that you won't have to back up or down while on a curve.... ) Anyhow, enough chatter... here's how the Cevennes looked last week....
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| This is a view on the way up to the hills, at Col Jacreste (832 m) |
Now, as for Florac... Here's view of the centre of town/village, the romantic high cliffs in the background, the trout-filled river flowing through and over a thundering waterfall...
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| It was a gloomy day for photos, but still pretty lovely, no? |
And here's a post-renaissance doorway to be found up a little side street, somehow seeming wildly incongruous in this mountain setting... but that's what's so wonderful about visible history in France, there are all kinds of U-turns and strange layerings of centuries no matter where you are... and Florac is no exception. Most people know it as a hiking or camping destination OR as one of the places through which Robert Louis Stevenson walked with his donkey Modestine
in 1879...
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| Note the incongruous modern windows to the right of the door! |
In mountain country there are always springs, "des sources", water flowing out of the rock pure and sweet and good to drink. In Florac there are several little fountains such as this one, so simple -- a classic of its kind... A good way to end today's post, more photos to come in a few days, don't want to overload your circuits... Remember how it used to be in the old days, when relatives would come with their container of slides to show you the picture of their vacation? Yes, well.... I'm cognizant of the trap that a blog presents...
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| But it was worth waiting for, wasn't it? the perfect little fountain? |
