Rainy days ending - back to sunshine soon

It's been a while since the last update.

That's because, as I indicated in the April 2nd post, we're busy doing and making, which leaves little time for talking and blogging. And there is also the fact that, increasingly, whatever changes and progress tend to be more incremental, less dramatic. And more of a conventional home improvement nature. You expect better than mundane from this blog. We don't do filler here.

Through the winter, as we spent our days essentially waiting for our furniture, waiting for contractors, waiting for the mail, waiting for spring, etc. first, we had lots of time to sit before the computer (at the nearest McDdonald's), and second, every time whatever it was that we had been waiting for arrived, happened or materialized, we had something distinct to report.

Now we're here, our stuff is here, the waiting is over, and we're in charge and engaged in doing what we came to do. (Although, to be quite frank, we're still waiting for some of the contractors to finish this or that. But, it's mostly because we're taking our time, not entirely because they're not instantly available when we call. For instance, the plumber couldn't install the sink until we had chosen it. It was not his fault that we took so long to do so. I hate to disappoint some of you stereotype-lovers out there, but not all contractors in France are straight out of a Peter Mayle novel.)

So, the last post (April 2nd) is still a valid reflection of our daily life in Gaulejac, except for the gardening, which has come to a standstill for two reasons: one, Nancy is in Canada for a couple of weeks and, two, the weather has changed dramatically. That lovely weather we enjoyed throughout March was not early summer after all: the temperature cooled and it has been raining everyday for the last three weeks. It is hard to believe that so much rain could come down, and keep coming down. Even on the West Coast (you know, the "Wet" Coast), I remember that I could always count on the sky clearing for a few hours now and then. Not so here, since April 1st.

Fortunately, now that my shop is operational, including a beautiful new door to keep rain and wind out, I can do what I came here to do, regardless of the weather: build cabinets! Yes, as I hinted last time, the wait is finally over and I am not just talking about them anymore. I have been actually building them. So, I have at least one new and interesting (well, "interesting" is a matter of opinion, I suppose) photo to offer you, to silence those skeptics who were beginning to question whether I would ever get started (actually, there were days this winter when I was one of those skeptics).

The first of many more to come. And on the right is the new door I was telling  you about above.

-oOo-

Tomorrow, I am going to a local event called "Journée de la forêt". A neighbour is involved in the organizing. The day's activities will include demonstrations, by teams of draught horses of various breeds, of the way logs used to be pulled out of the forest. The Périgord region has at least one thing in common with Canada: it is densely wooded and logging has been a mainstay of the local economy, going back centuries. It is rich with species like oak, chestnut, ash, and beech. A common sight, as one drives around back roads around here, is piles of logs freshly pulled out of the forest and waiting to be picked up by sawmill and paper-mill trucks.

Anyway, I'm taking my camera to the Journée de la forêt. The weather forecast predicts a few days of sun and clouds - no rain! - starting soon. There might be something better than muddy horses to report in a future post.

Oh, and, yes: I have already registered for lunch.

Indoors & outdoors

This post is dedicated to John, who left us recently, much too soon. We were honoured to hear that he was a regular reader of our blog. The sunshine and the flowers in the photos, and all evocations of spring and warmth in the words below, are for Patti and their family.

We have been blessed with beautiful weather for the last three weeks: clear blue sky, low twenties, an occasional mild breeze. Some here are concerned about the water table, of course. Rural concerns are the same everywhere, it seems: too much or not enough water. I must confess that we are not giving it much of a thought.

For us, after the last few months of relative cold and damp while living in an almost-but-not-quite-finished house (and workshop), it has been a blessed relief to rise to sunshine and keep doors and windows open all day, day after day.

But it's not just the blossoms on the trees and the birds singing and nesting in the dry stone walls that have raised our spirits. It's also that we are both busy and seeing progress of our own making, inside and out.

First of all, the floors are finished, which has made it possible to arrange furniture and bring stuff out of boxes. All of a sudden, it's like a real home in here.

The living room, seen from the top of the stairs
through the new handrail.

The stone "tapis" (literally, "carpet")
in the foyer, at the foot of the stairs.

Nancy has been working hard outside, too, clearing bramble ...

Before Nancy started working on this area a couple
of weeks ago, the brook (known as the "ruisseau de Gaulejac")
was hidden under a veritable tunnel of bramble,
tall grass, bushes and dead trees (see piles on the right).

... and planting rose bushes, lavender, herbs and lilacs.

Meanwhile, I have been trying my hand at stonework ...

No, these are not centuries old stone steps.
This passage up from the driveway onto the terrace below
the front of the house used to be a muddy gully
where the stone wall had crumbled from neglect.

My new workbench. Ain't she a beauty?

... and - finally! - woodwork, too.

Yes, for those who have been following the saga of the workshop ("when will he stop talking about those d... cabinets, and start building them?!"), I am happy to report that the "atelier" is fully equipped and work has begun.

My workplace for the next several months, finally come together.
Building the cabinets (at the back), and the bench on the left,
was good practice. After years of not even going near
a table saw, I needed it.

So, outside and inside, we have been working everyday. I'm taking some time off today to write this post, but I'll be back in the shop, and happy to be, tomorrow.

The weather is supposed to cool down a bit over the next few days, and it should rain tomorrow. Apparently we need it.

Truffle!

One day last week we went out with a friend and his dog, trained to find truffles. At first the dog wasn't impressed with our land and seemed more interested in the rabbit warrens that pepper one corner of the woods.

Then she shot out to a spot that was nowhere near a "truffier", the kind of oak tree that is known to promote the growth of truffles around its roots. And then she gave the signal: she scratched a spot twice, then laid down, looking up at us.

Our friend kneeled down next to where Daisy the truffle dog had scratched, and he dug with his fingers a couple of inches into the ground, and look what we found:

We gave the truffle on the left to our truffle-finding friend and kept the one on the right.
It weighed 85 g., which, we were told, is a very respectable size.

The next evening, we were having dinner with friends and another couple, old friends of theirs down from Paris for a few days. Naturally we shared our truffle hunt story and they were quite impressed, especially as it was late in the season. Most truffle finders apparently have stopped looking.

Dinner was excellent, the conversation was lively and there was lots of laughter. It was confirmed a couple of times that truffle is best eaten fresh. Also, it so happens that Patrick, one half of the Parisian couple, is a chef. And they were heading back to Paris on the Sunday. And so so things fell into place quickly and it was decided that we would get together again the following evening, at their place this time, for a classic truffle dish that Patrick would prepare for us: "brouillade", essentially scrambled eggs with cream, served plain with truffle shavings on top.

The next morning, Pierre-Jean brought over fresh eggs from Marie's mother's chickens, with precise instructions to keep them in a jar along with the truffle until dinnertime so that they may absorb the aroma (truffle is pungent!).

The rest is culinary history.

The two ideal partners.

We've had truffle in some form or other before, but never quite understood what was the big deal. This meal really opened our eyes. The simple taste of fresh farm eggs and cream was the perfect support for the earthy, nutty flavour of the truffle.

When we get a dog, it will be trained not to bite or run across the street, of course. But there is new skill on its training program now.

Let them eat foie gras ... at will

Last Sunday, around 12:30, we sat down for lunch with a couple of friends and 646 strangers. A few pounds of foie gras and bottles of local wine later, we went home for supper.

Fest'Oie is a weekend-long "Goose Fair" that takes place every year, the third week in February, in Sarlat. It's a big deal. Check out the Sarlat Tourism Office's link for the official info.

The whole weekend is about the bird that is the number one local resource. Geese are celebrated in every way imaginable as they literally take over the town, including a run of the geese (we gave it a pass, having heard about similar events in Spain; people get hurt). The old town in Sarlat becomes a goose-themed playground. There are games, like tossing a ring for a prize at geese in an enclosure (see poster at top, or photo above), tasting booths, music, market stalls, and more.

The main event of the weekend is Sunday lunch.

Of course, calling it simply "lunch" is a bit of an understatement. For one thing, you're in an arena, elbow-to-elbow with hundreds of people, a few locals and many more come from all over France. For another thing, you're eating and drinking for six hours: it was 6:25 when we got up to leave. Take a look at the menu:

To facilitate the digestion and fill gaps in the conversation (though there was no such problem at any table I could see, including ours), non-stop music was provided by two bands taking turns through the afternoon, both very good in their own style, and completely different: one a standard jazz trio with singer, and the other a crazy kind of New Orleans marching band consisting of two trumpets, a bass drum, a snare drum and a bass. While the jazz band was content playing it straight on stage, the marching band stood against the back wall or moved around, ratcheting up the atmosphere.

All through the meal, there was - beside eating and drinking and talking and laughing - various forms of participatory music appreciation including waving and linking arms and yelling "Olé!", conga-line dancing, even body-surfing: when was the last time you saw people interrupt their lunch to lay on the ground flat on their backs, all in a row, to "surf" volunteers, of all ages and genders across the hall?

So, you've got it in a nutshell: abundance in foie gras, wine, company, music, merriment.

And the food, you may ask? The foie gras was very good, and truly at will. The wine was excellent Bordeaux 2007-to-2010 vintages. The staff was terrific and extremely efficient: amazing to think that with 650 people all eating at the same time, every dish arrived perfectly cooked and warm. In closing, the whole kitchen staff came up on stage for a standing, well-deserved ovation.

Supper that evening was a glass of water and a couple of Tylenols by the fire, then early to bed.

Update: Spring will come, but meanwhile ...

It snowed today. As the forecast calls for sub-zero temperatures until later this week, it will likely stay on the ground a few days, though sunshine is supposed to return tomorrow.

I went out and took a few pictures while Nancy knitted by the fire.

We got stone

Good bye concrete: the kitchen finally got its stone floor.

At first we were surprised that after spending so much time with the people at the quarry, choosing with them exactly the colour that we wanted, they delivered something that seemed so much darker.

But the stones were beautiful, and the colour, though darker than expected, still went very well with the other variety of stone used for the walls of the house and with the old oak beams. So we resigned ourselves that we could live with it and would not test the quarry's return-and-refund policy.

In the end though, we did get the colour that we wanted: two days after they had been laid, once the stones were dry through and through, the paler, creamy tone that attracted us originally emerged after all.

We had been told that stone, even hard stone such as the Limeyrat variety, was a porous material and darkened considerably when soaked for cutting and finishing. We just didn't expect such a contrast.

Though the jointing remains to be done (tomorrow), and a good cleaning will have to follow, the floor is beautiful.

Below are some pictures taken over the last couple of days. The difference between the freshly-laid stones and the ones that were laid the day before is striking.

Day One

The stones on the left were laid last yesterday,
while those on the right were laid the day before
and are now thoroughly dry and showing their "true" colour.

Spring is on the way ...

It all started with a sketch

With the completion of the préau, we are now seeing Gaulejac pretty much as it had been envisioned back in 2010, when we first started working with François Coq, the architect who has been the mastermind behind all the activity. 

We are very pleased with the final result.

To say that "we couldn't have done it without him" doesn't even begin to explain his role - or our appreciation for his expertise and his warmth.

Though he carried quite a load on our behalf as designer, technical adviser, general contractor, and project overseer, it seems that François always had time for us and our seemingly endless questions and changing ideas. Through it all, he was consistently patient and diplomatic, though he could be firm and direct when needed but always with tact and humour. 

He has delivered and we are very grateful.

Below is a sketch that François drew early on, which he has graciously allowed us to use and reproduce, followed by a photo of the house as it stands now.

Latest news: Gaulejac now on the Net!

Momentous event: as of this morning, we are again online at home!

Getting closer to a normal life, 
thanks to that little white box 
in the middle.

No more dragging the laptop out, driving several kilometres, then sitting in the car outside MacDonalds' or some other WiFi hot spot, just to check emails or update the blog.

And the bundle includes TV and a land line telephone, too.

We're back in the modern world.

What's a "préau"?

Travel back in time with me, please, to my childhood days.

When I was a little boy at École Voltaire, my elementary school in Asnières (the NW Paris suburb where I grew up), one of my favourite places there was the préau. Probably because it had nothing to do with teachers and classes, quite the contrary. It was part of the schoolyard where twice a day at recess time, we would escape from the classroom, scattering out, invariably shouting with relief at being finally free of the strict code of enforced silence, getting away once more from the torture of having to sit unnaturally still, quiet, and attentive (tough on any boy, in any country) for hours on end.

The préau was the covered area, at one end of the schoolyard, where we could shelter and still play and get some fresh air even if it rained or snowed, or pick a fight in a shady corner, somewhat removed from the supervising teacher's area of scrutiny. It was also where the latrines where located; like I said, it was all about relief.

Fast forward now more than fifty years into the present.

Though Nancy might beg to differ sometimes, I am not a little boy anymore. In fact I am an old man, a retiree, happy to be living back in France. And I have little need for school, because now I have my own préau (no latrines, though).

Childhood memories notwithstanding, the préau has to be one of the features of our house that we have been looking forward to the most, ever since the plans began to take form, three years ago. An outside,covered dining room, breakfast nook, lounging area - with a view.

I am sure that when you visit, once you've had the opportunity to sit there with us at the old oak table, over breakfast or, later in the day, with a glass of Bergerac before you, gazing out across at a 180 degree panorama of our valley, you will agree: the préau is the place to be.

It is conveniently located right by the kitchen door, and while I may not run out shouting, I enjoy even just walking by it sometimes, giving it only a side glance, with the knowledge that this is place that holds many special moments in store.

When we left for Ontario just before Christmas, the préau was still very much an unfinished place. For months it had stood an unfinished structure in an unfinished yard, covered like a makeshift camp with a tattered green tarp, that flapped in the wind and certainly did not do justice to its beautiful oak beams.

The day we returned, last week, as we were driving down our narrow, twisty country road that has become familiar, while neither one of us said anything, we both knew that the other one had his/her eyes trained on the final bend when Gaulejac would reveal itself to us. Would we see that ugly shapeless green still waving insultingly in the wind, or would the roofers have finally delivered?

In fact, there was not a trace of flapping green in site, but instead, a new roof of lovely old canal tiles. Our first Christmas at Gaulejac (in spirit, anyway) and we had received the one present we wished for.

And so now, in full colour, with the usual before-and-after shots, I give you ...

Le préau

Yesterday

May 2011

October 2008

As seen from the driveway:

In 2008

Yesterday

Looking down into the yard, from the upper terrace by the bread oven:

2008

Yesterday

A new tree for a new yard

As previously hinted at, our yard underwent some major cosmetic work in the last few days.

The yard, as seen from the kitchen door, a couple of days ago, with the new tree in place.

The photos below will give you an idea of the transformation over the last few months. They include before-and-after shots, taken from approximately the same angle in October 2008, (when we first saw the property), February and May of this year, with work in full swing, and earlier this week.

October 2008

February 2011

May 2011

This past Thursday

Daily life at Gaulejac

I wouldn't say that we have developed a routine yet. In fact, I rather hope that we never do; that would be too much like life before retirement. Still, as the house is coming together and the list of things for the workers to do is dwindling down daily to smaller and smaller jobs like corrections and touch-ups, there is increasingly some regularity to our daily life. There is also more comfort, though we are resigned to the fact that it will not be achieved fully until our furniture arrives (mid-January, at last update from the shippers).

As an illustration of our daily life at Gaulejac, I have posted below a series of shots that will give you an idea of what a typical day might be like for us.

Nancy has taken to walking into Montignac (4.5 Km one-way) every other morning.
Sometimes I join her, but some days, I just putter around at home
and make coffee while I wait for her to bring home the day's Le Monde
and a fresh baguette for breakfast. Life is tough ...

On the way, she (or we) will often stop by to chat with the pony
who lives in a meadow by the side of the road, and sometimes give him a carrot.

Here she is again, now about half-way home.

If I haven't joined Nancy for the walk to Montignac, I may trundle up the hill
with my camera. The mist and the rising sun always make for magnificent views,
which I manage to capture satisfactorily only on rare occasions. The shot above was taken in the meadow
above our property, looking down on our house (centre), and our neighbour's (roof to the left).

By the time Nancy returns, the workers are hard at it. In the shot above,
they are cutting capping stones which were much too wide: the mechanical saw
that they first used only cut 3/4 of the way deep, so they had to finish the job by hand.
Behind them, you can see the stairs to the workshop, which used to have a stone border
on both sides that were removed the day before. Looks much better, less monumental now.
The yard is really the only area where we've been dissatisfied with some of the execution.
Mostly because it introduced what we felt were "urban" touches, rigid and bold lines
that just did not fit in with the overall rustic style. Otherwise, we're very pleased with the work , inside and out.

Our daily life and comfort took a major turn for the better when we
discovered that the big fireplace in the kitchen works very well,
even without the finishing touches like the cast iron plate
and the cold air intakes that are supposed to be essential
for it to function properly (and that will be in place soon).
So We now have a fire every night at dinnertime. The house is very comfortable anyway,
but it is December after all, it gets dark early, the thermometer drops to single digits quickly,
and in France as in Canada, nothing says "home" like a fire in the hearth.