Farewell dinner

It was a little to cold to sit outside on the petit balcon this week, but late this afternoon as the sun streamed in the glass doors, I made myself a little snack and an Aperol spritz and sat at my bistro set in the warm sunlit spot enjoying my little corner for the last time in 2015.

I feel lucky to have been here three times this year. Enjoying the quiet, the peace, feeling nourished by the fresh air, the open skies, the blinding sun as it sinks low behind my castle. The familiar always feels good, like a favorite sweater, but new discoveries are welcome too.

I met my neighbors Stuart and Neil today. Londoners who bought the large house diagonally across the corner, Stuart was out front sweeping his stoop and I introduced myself. We chatted a bit and I told him I was a gardener and heard he had a lovely courtyard out back. Well this led to an invitation for a quick tour. To say I was floored is a major understatement. Not only do they have a stunning courtyard, about the size of my first floor, they have turned their first floor rooms into timeless, elegant spaces. Looking around at the choices: the art, the lighting, the antiques, there was no question that at least one of them was an interior designer.  

The courtyard reminded me of the Spanish houses we'd seen in Granada, influenced by Moorish themes--it even had a pool!  Then I remembered they owned a house in Marakkesh. Sue told me of it as she is also their housekeeper. I asked about it and we had a long talk about the magical country of Morocco. Stuart said he rents his place and it comes with a cook and housekeeper. There's even a direct flight to Marakkesh from Bordeaux.  I was never interested in traveling there before, but who knows, each new connection can lead down an interesting path . . .

My neighbor Stefan was delighted to find me at home yesterday. We chatted for awhile to catch up on neighborhood gossip then said au revoir. He told me to send "peace and love from France" to Joe. Later, he knocked on my door to give me a gift: a box of his favorite insense, which, he says smells like honey and curry. I told him I would bring it home and try it there. He beamed.

I cleaned up my potted plants, removing all the dead leaves and letting anything green and vigorous stay a little longer. I pulled up the cherry tomato and ate the only two ripe ones off the vine.

The suitcase is packed. The house is clean and ready for Mandy and Michael, who arrive tomorrow and stay for six weeks. I'm a little jealous as I haven't been able to put together my own six weeks here yet, but they are a lovely couple and I feel I am leaving the cottage in good hands. We have an invitation to visit them at their new place when we return in the spring. 

So that's it. Au revoir from Duras. 

Evening stroll

The views from behind the castle looking roughly northwest are always beautiful, but the late afternoon fall light gives everything a warm, golden glow and enhances the colors and deepens the shadows. I enjoy this nightly hike around the village, behind the castle and sometimes up behind the clock tower. 

A couple of days ago I noticed that my little band of photogenic donkeys are no longer at the nearby pasture. At first I thought they were roaming elsewhere, but then I saw that their fencing had also been taken down and the property mowed. I felt sad, but I'm over it now.

After I had logged a couple of kilometers, I rewarded myself with a trip to the boulangerie, where I procured a baguette that I ate in the street on my walk home. I ripped off the crunchy heel and offered it to the little black and white dog that's in charge of Rue Cesar Jauffret and he sniffed at it then ran past to ward off some perceived evildoer before they had a chance to invade our block. I hope a pigeon gets it.

Eymet market, etc.

Today I had a lunch date with my friend Mimi Knudsen who I met last year after I discovered her travel blog from France and started a pen pal relationship. We met in Eymet at Les Pieds sur Terre, which has become a go-to lunch spot whenever I am in Eymet.

I got to Eymet early as it was market day and I walked the stalls in the ancient square remembering that I had read recently that the Eymet Thursday morning market had been operating continuously in the same spot since 1270. 1270! That's nearly 750 years! I tried to imagine what the vendors were selling on this date in 1270: the pumpkins and apples would surely have been in season. The chicken vendor has his fancy rotisserie truck now, but I'd bet fire-roasted fowl of some sort would be offered. Maybe sheep skins to ward off the coming chill or boots--resembling Uggs, but cruder--would likely have been crafted to order. Goat cheese was probably plentiful and similar to what's sold now. 

I sat in a café and ordered a grand crème so I could people watch for awhile. I studied the scarf guy, who also sells at the market in Duras. One of the characters in my novel is based on him so I lurked about near his stall to get more character details. I told myself that I should go introduce myself and tell the guy that he's in my book, but I worried that he'd think I was a bit of a nut, so I didn't.

Today I found some lovely bouquets crafted of dried flowers and brought them home to perk up a couple of spots that needed some color.

Buried treasure

I have now owned the Clocktower Cottage for 16 months. I have spent much of my time here organizing things and making it my own. I thought I had visited each nook, cupboard and drawer, but apparently that's not true. 

Tonight, while sweeping the kitchen floor, I looked down at just the right angle to see a drawer beneath the oven I'd never noticed before.  It surprised me at first--thinking that I may have overlooked something. I really believed there were no new surprises. Not there especially as I spent a great deal of time on that floor when I was painting the cabinets. How could I have missed it?

So, what's in the drawer?

Two English cake pans with a clever built-in mechanism for getting the cake unstuck from the bottom. You swing the blade around until the whole item is loosened from the pan. Brilliant idea!

Don't know what this is, but it's cute.

Two vintage enamel baking pans: one big enough for a lasagne and the other perfect for a dainty pie for two. These are in beautiful condition--pure white with a lovely cobalt blue edge. These are my favorites!

Two great things about France

One: chestnut yogurt!!

Two: an entire aisle of rosé

How could anyone not be happy here?

Voila!

I've had three tiny framed silhouettes for some months now and I haven't been able to find the right home for them as they are just to small to make any kind of impact on a large wall. I brought them to Duras with me hoping to locate just the right spot, but after a couple of days, that spot was just not revealing itself.

So, while I was sitting on the couch last night, streaming The Paradise on Netflix, I had a thought. Here's how I unified the silhouettes and turned them into something with greater impact: 

Now hanging in my bedroom: 

Fall drive in the country

It was a perfect fall day today: crisp, clear air, deep blue skies and a rosy sunset for the finale. I took a ride to Bergerac--not historical Bergerac, but the shops at the rotary at the exit for Bergerac. Anyway, coming back, between Bergerac and Sainte Foy, I saw a sign pointing toward Duras. It wasn't a turn I typically take, but with three-quarters of a tank of gas and nothing at all to do, I took the turn.

The road passed through the historical towns of Gardonne, then Saussignac, before becoming a narrow country lane. The lane passed by farms and tiny towns with only a derelict church and maybe a post office.

Grape vines blazed in all colors of fall. Plum trees, recently covered with snowy spring blossoms, glowed warmly in the late afternoon sun.

Lazy cream-colored cows munched on crispy grasses. The skeletons of sunflowers bent their heads in dark silence. In some places the farmers had already cut the sunflowers down--leaving a five o'clock shadow of stubble across an undulating field.

Signs pointing the way to Duras popped up at various intervals, but at unmarked intersections I headed roughly west and always managed to get back on track to the next sign validating my course.

It was a perfect fall day for a long ride through vines, through forests, 

I am back! Soup's on!

After nine days in Italy: seven in Tuscany and two in Ravenna, I have traveled to my tiny, adorable village of Duras, where I will putter and catch up on some projects for the next five days.

Being a tourist in Italy exhausted me! We never stopped. Never planned a light day.  So the first item on my French agenda is to give myself a break.

On arriving in town about 3 p.m., I stopped first at the Carrefour supermarket to pick up a couple of days worth of supplies. Unfortunately I missed the Monday morning marché in Duras, but I am well stocked and will not have to go out again until I recharge my batteries. So I am holed up in the Clocktower Cottage until further notice. 

I got to the cottage and found all in order as I knew it would be. Sue was in to give it a good cleaning and bring the box I mailed to myself in care of her address.

Soupe. Potage. Pot au feu. Whatever you call it, I wanted some, and bought everything I needed to make a big pot of soup. Some people like to burn incense or candles to chase out the musty smells. I like to cook! And, I like to personalize the house by cooking something that will waft through the rooms, up the stairs, out the open windows and through the neighborhood.

My soup started with a chicken, a big leek, some carrots, celery, water, salt and pepper. I went out to the street to see if I still had some of the herbs I planted in a pot in the spring. I did, and I cut several sprigs of thyme, some rosemary and some parsley. After everything had simmered together for 1.5 hours, I removed the chicken to a big bowl and let it cool a bit. I chopped up half the chicken and added it to the pot, then put a couple handfuls of tiny elbow pasta. I let it simmer again until the pasta was cooked then took it off the stove to cool a bit while I did some laundry and took a shower.

When I began to feel like myself, I poured a glass of rosé, which Sue is now trained to pop into the fridge to get cold in time for my arrival, then I feasted on my perfectly comforting and warming potage.

There's plenty of it! I think I know what I'll be eating every day this week.