I sit outside on the patio writing this blog post. It is still cool in the shade and there is the slightest hint of a soft breeze blowing. By mid-day it will be too hot to sit out here. I will remember the summer of 2018 as the summer that never ended. We had the heat wave in England which went on and on and on for endless days. No clouds, no rain, just weeks of solid sunshine. For the first time in years in June & July I had no need for any warm clothing, just dresses and shorts and T shirts and flip-flops. The nights were hot and I slept with all the windows & curtains open and shared my dreams with owls and bats and the stars.
Now it is August and the hot spell has passed in England but it continues in France. I have returned, not house hunting, just enjoying the last 2 weeks before school starts again and I return to England & life at Loseley.
You would think that I might run out of things to write about but the opposite is true. I could tell you about the orchards dripping with peaches and plums. I could describe the fields of sorghum/millet that are earthy and wholesome and remind me of the fermented beer they brew from the grain in Zimbabwe. I could tell you about the fig tree that is laden with ripe fruit outside my nephew's bedroom window. I plucked a fig from it and popped it in my mouth. It was so different from the bland pale fragrant ones I have tasted in England. It was similar to the taste I remember of the figs I ate in South Africa, rich and ripe and sweet served with cheese, no need to drizzle it with honey. I think my brother's fig tree is doing so well because it has been enriched by the seeping sewage tank!
I love the fertility of this land and the season of fruitfulness we are in.
But I won't write about that. Instead I will tell you about my favourite bike ride. It runs along a flat ridge of land that is agricultural. I cycle along shaded avenues of trees, past a couple of orchards, a chicken pen of guinea fowl, a vineyard and an old faded water tower that I imagine buying and converting into a little home with 360 degree views across the horizon.
I was ambling down the lane on my bike, enjoying the bliss of countryside and no traffic when I thought I saw the Gruffalo! The 'chicken eggs for sale' sign I had just cycled past was suddenly shadowed and dwarfed by a white bundle of fur that was approaching me fast. Having read many story books for my nephews I am very familiar with the GRUFFALO. He is huge and hairy and has crooked teeth and long claws. In my moment of panic, this is what I thought I saw ...
... a MONSTER that seemed to be bigger than any dog I had seen before. I have been attacked by a dog when out on my bike and it is not fun. He went for my ankles but fortunately his teeth could not penetrate my rubber wellington boots. Yes, I know, who rides a bike in wellies?! I sometimes do.
But today I had bare legs and ankles on display, the monster would rip my legs to shreds easily.
These are the conclusions that tumbled through my mind as the ball of fury approached. Fortunately I know a little about animal psychology and knew not to panic and kick out but calmly greet the animal. It worked, he slowed down and approached with a happy welcoming bark and the attack ceased as fast as it started.
I decided to call him my French Gruffalo and took my nephews out to meet him on a follow up bike ride. My brother told me that this particular breed of dog is a Pyrenean Mountain dog which is trained to kill wolves and bears and defend the sheep. It can rip a domestic dog into pieces if it feels that the animal is a threat to the sheep.
So that was my little bit about my favourite country lane and the French Gruffalo. I will also tell you about the swing that hangs under the lime tree. A swing is a wonderful thing, it brings freedom, it brings childish joy. Especially a swing hanging from a tree branch.
I am tempted to go to the swing in the day but it is usually too hot and the swimming pool usually wins that pull. But I do I seem to wake up at 3.00am in England which transfers to 4.00am in France. Instead of fighting to get back to sleep I know its easier to go for a little walk outside. On a few nights over here I have found the swing to be a good place to sit watching the big round harvest moon rise in the cool night and watch the stars up above.
This week I was looking at the stars when I saw one turn itself out. I've seen shooting stars, meteor showers, the Milky Way, but never a star turn itself off!! It was there and then it was gone. A first for me.
So that is a small window into my French world. Next week I will tell you about night markets and a tiny medieval cheese shop. But for now, it's time for another cup of tea.
