There's Crème Brûlèe and then there's Terre Brûlèe

I am not sure where August has gone. As the month ends today, I realized that I have not been writing as much as I should have. So to catch you up I am spending Wednesday morning getting my final thoughts down on paper. The very hot weather has past and and we are enjoying the pleasant weather of late August.

Steve and the neigbour.

We have been passing the days of August by reading, hiking (walking), gardening (my lettuce is ready for its first salad tonight) and trying to improve our French. The one thing that you need to keep up with. A few days ago, I was listening to a French podcast on ordering food and heard you might get your food burnt (brûlèe). Then the next day we were talking to our neighbour about the heat (Il fait très chaud), and he pointed to our Terre Brûlèe, the burnt earth of our back lawn. It took me a minute to put the two pieces together, but finally understood something our neighbour said. It will take a lot of time listening and being totally immersed in French to continue to improve. The local radio station is a good place to start with mostly French music and talk, with the odd accordion musical hour thrown in just for un peu de French flair. Later on that Sunday, we were chatting with our younger neighbour, Andre. He has almost no English, but we were able to talk about the village, how long he has lived here, a bit about where he works, and he lent us two books about Bellac and the area (in french of course).

Sandy and Steve at the station

We entertained our first guest of the summer during my last weekend here in Bellac. Sandy, a teacher from school arrived with great drama on Friday evening. We had heard via e-mail that she would arrive on the 16:47 train from Limoges. We patiently waited on the platform as the train arrived. Several people alighted but no Sandy. Steve tried to run up and down the train trying to see if she was still on the train, even the conductor quickly scanned his passengers, but no Sandy to be found. We wandered up into town to find a "hot spot" to see if she had e-mailed us with any changes to her plan, but no contact. We walked back to the station to wait for the next train just to see if she had missed the connection in Limoges. There she was standing inside behind the sliding glass doors, which was odd because there had been no further trains since we had left to seek a wifi signal. She was locked in because the station closed at 17:20. Sandy finally was able to get the agent to come and release her. The story went that her train from Paris was running late and she missed the connection. A good looking guy she met on the train directed her to the ticket office and the agent there wrote her a coupon for a cab ride to the Bellac station. We are sure there was some flicking of blond hair and a few smiles that got Sandy the free ride instead of being told to wait for the next train.

With Sandy here, we managed to get out and about to Le Dorat

Sandy and Vern in Le Dorat

and Montmorillon, but the heat slowed us down to a crawl.  Sunday morning started out cool and cloudy with some thunder rumbling in the distance but the sun did manage to break through and return us to almost as high temperatures on Saturday. Even our normally cool house was absorbing the heat through the thick walls (at least 24"), but at least it is a dry heat. Sunday was a quick tour of some neighbouring villages and then a vide-grenier. It was small, but picturesque and the tables of tat were around the small lake in the town. Sandy found a set of Limoges espresso cups that had been designed for Air France to take home for a souvenir. We got a set of cushions from a pile of gratuit furniture on the road side. A quick wash of the covers and presto a new set of cushions.

Monday marked the beginning of the end for my summer here in France. It was a day to wander the village and show Sandy the sights. We stopped by the train station for her to pick up her ticket for Paris the next day. I picked up my return ticket to Paris for Saturday. In the mean time, with cooler weather, Sandy saw our village, everything from the 12 century church, the marie, and even the cemetery. The day ended with a dinner in our local pub. It was such a change from the heat wave, as we needed sweaters as we sat out to enjoy our dinner. The evening ended with a walk around the park and a feeding of Steve's many goats.

The rock garden

The rock garden

With less than a week to go before it is back to school, it is time to reflect upon our first summer in France in our new maison. A lot has been done, and still with a few projects in the works. We did get the attic to the point that it can be comfortable and welcome guests. The back yard is inviting and looks good with the potted plants we bought this summer. The deck will need some work in the furture, but it has a summer or two left in it. The pelouse is a mixture of weeds, clover, moss and a little grass. Next summer I will try to add some more grass seed and some weed and feed to make it a bit more pleasant to walk across. In the vegetable garden, the lettuce is more than ready for harvest, and our first home made salad was enjoyed last night. There are still no budding cumcumbers in sight.  Pinch out the growing tip when the plants have developed seven leaves. The developing sideshoots can be left to trail over the ground or trained up stout netting. Pinch out the tips of flowerless sideshoots after seven leaves. Reading the above just today on a gardening web site may be why we still haven't seen the fruits of my labour. Next year we will pick something a little simpler like carrots. With Steve here for the month of September, he still might be able to use our homegrown cucumbers to dip in his tzatziki, we can only hope.

The first salad with my lettuce.

In my final days, I still have the guide to the house to finish writing. This will be for any friends who may visit the house when we are not here. It is amazing how many little things are needed to be noted in an old French house. Not all of them are due to age; the locking of the doors, turning on the water, using the washing machine and even the toilets need just a little translation but that is what living in a different country is all about. And that is what living in France is all about. It is a different world and will be hard to leave come Saturday. I will start counting the days until March when we return for a quick check in and then again next summer. Can't wait!

La Maison 'Tuileries'

Wish I painted this but...

Steve poolside :-)

Chateau Drouilles nearest chateau to Bellac.