Poppies and sawdust

At this time of year, poppies grow everywhere around here, including in and around our yard. Indeed the last few weeks have been a poppy extravaganza. Unfortunately, I didn't get around to taking photos until late in their growing period. So, slightly past their prime but still beautiful, here is the patch that has been lighting up one corner of the yard over the last couple of weeks.

My excuse for not getting out there with my camera is that I was busy producing quantities of wood chips and sawdust ...

milling wood (linden) to make cabinet face frames and doors:

Nancy, meanwhile, has been making tremendous progress on the gardening front, witness the photo below, of the area outside our kitchen door:

Aside from all that activity, which has been preventing us from taking photos and posting more frequent posts on this blog, we have also found time to relax and enjoy friends' company. And in that area, the préau is proving to be the wonderful place that we were hoping it would be. We spent a couple of evenings with friends there recently, talking and drinking wine, while admiring the view early on, and the full moon later on.

So, life continues here at Gaulejac, as we continue to marvel at each season, and keep busy planting, building and generally preparing for our first visitors from Canada and other parts of France. We're looking forward to that, too.

As a post script, I have been meaning to post a photo of a detail that I rather like, an architectural feature that was added several weeks back to some of the downstairs windows: iron bars in the local style, to keep out invaders, I suppose.

Speaking of which, tourist season is now in full swing. Not that you would notice any increase in traffic on our little road. We hope to keep it that way.

Slow food

Nancy spotted this big guy speeding across our driveway this afternoon ...

Hungry?

Journée de la forêt

Last Sunday I attended the "Journée de la forêt", in a field just outside a pretty little town called Ajat, a dozen or so kilometers from our place.

Organized according to an ad hoc calendar by a local association, the fair brings together, in a different location every time, working farmers and hobbyists who all share a passion for draught horses - with a pair of oxen and a donkey thrown into the mix. They raise and train them to perform in the old ways various tasks that have been taken over now by tractors and other machines. On that day, the animals are led on a circular track, pulling logs out of the woods, dragging them to a cutting and stacking station, and heading back to the woods for more, all for the enjoyment of the crowd.

The Journée is really a family affair, an occasion for local folks to get together, and while it was men exclusively who led the animals, the small crowd of no more than a hundred spectators attending the event included many women of all ages, children, grand parents.

Sunday started out overcast and drizzly, but by lunch time, sunshine had broken through and stuck around for the rest of the day, to everyone's delight. Nevertheless, the ground remained very muddy after the constant rain of the last three weeks, and I was glad that I had tossed my rubber boots in the truck, almost as an afterthought, just before heading out.

Lunch was served in a nearby barn, on trestle tables. It was simple and hearty fare, in the local style. And there was even live music - all the standard accordion tunes performed by a very talented young woman. I was invited to join the table occupied by our neighbour, one of the organizers, and his family. I enjoyed their company over the next three hours. They asked many questions about Canada, and how life there compares to life here. In turn, I asked them if they had been or might visit one day. They just smiled and said "oh no, it's too far away." From what they told me, it seems that they and their families are happy living exactly where their parents had lived before them, within a radius of ten to fifteen kilometers from where we were sitting.


Scroll down for a selection of pictures of the Journée de la Forêt.

Rubber boots were the de rigueur footwear.

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.