Hidden Treasures!

Mercredi le 23eme dawned the dry and overcast day I had set aside for gardening; namely cutting the grass and mauvais herbs behind the barn, before they grew so high, I’d need the brush cutter. 

The recently reconditioned lawnmower, which had lain dormant in our UK shed for some 10 years, started first pull and soon made mincemeat of the grass and (mainly) weeds and I received a wave from a local monsieur tending his allotment next door. Mmm, we seem to have a garden I told the bride so we went hand in hand to confirm this happy fact. Monsieur was still tending, so we introduced ourselves and he introduced us to his four chickens, expertly providing two eggs every day, which he said with a proud smile and proceeded to pull an armful of fresh leeks for us. We know from our little cottage in Normandy that this is typical neighbourly behaviour, yet the friendliness of our fellow humans in rural France still continues to bring us a warm happy feeling. 

Undisturbed for years

Having dispatched the high grass so easily, I next tackled the row of quick growing conifers which had taken over half the width of the drive leading to the hangar slash client parking, so choosing a bow saw and stout leather gloves, I set to work on a little more mass destruction and was soon unearthing interesting things from the undergrowth, some useful. First came a serviceable green plastic rain butt, thankfully empty, so easy to roll out of the way, then a couple of what passes here for 40 gallon oil drums and then a large brass tap, just the sort I’d spent weeks looking for in Normandy for a water feature. Then emerged a hunk of iron, part of something larger which to my delight turned out to be a complete harrow, small enough to be drawn by a horse or couple of small children when Dobin was busy and finally, a truncated conical concrete thingy. Possible the stem of some homeless gnome’s ex-toadstool, or fishing weight for Jaws, not sure which, but it will doubtless feature in a supporting role somewhere in Clos de la Rose next year. 

A bientôt, 

LC