My youngest girl will not mind me saying that she was a tomboy as a child, often found up trees and usually muddy with scraped knees. She had a tendency to fall into lakes, rivers and even large puddles, and was always upbeat about any mischief she got herself into. Throughout all that she loved pink: pink dresses, dungarees and assorted other flimsy items that never lasted long due to tomboy activities. She also had a lot of pink dressed barbies and a pink bedroom together with flouncy everything. Luckily, she outgrew the pink phase although the tomboy mischief remains. Pink was not a colour I loved at all.
Now it is a colour I adore. Not the bright fuchsia pink, but the delicate pink of roses, peonies and other flowers that I persuade my other half into buying. Sometimes a small morceau of fabric with blues and greys will have a tiny hint of pink, and it seems to bring the whole piece alive. My collection of quilts also has some pink ones, with roses being a favourite.
My other half knows me so well and for big occasions, and small ones too or just occasionally just because he knows I will love them, pink flowers, especially roses, hit the spot. He says matrimonial harmony is easy when pink roses are available. I’m not so sure that I like him thinking he can buy me flowers and all problems will be fixed, but I do love receiving them.
Over the summer months, here in France, all our lovely neighbours have been outside, living their lives with the added ‘room’ of a garden. Eating, drinks and parties, games and meetings, as well as all the gardening that gets done. Some of our neighbours’ vegetable plots are fantastic and have definitely inspired me and I have many plans for next year. However, now the winter has well and truly set in, everyone seems to hibernating. I don’t mean in the dormouse sort of way, but that we only get to see people out going shopping, or on their way to work and our little hamlet seems very quiet.
Although the autumn and winter seem very mild so far, with leaves still on trees, some have become bare and so can be seen the many balls of mistletoe that seem to grow here in the wild. I have spent years ordering my other half to shimmy up trees to cut down these fabulous berried rounds, with him usually cursing under his breath. So, with our last trip to the UK imminent, off I sent him with saw and ladders to find some nice mistletoe. As can be seen from the photos, he outdid himself.
It seems one of our local farmers had cut down some trees and after getting permission, my husband went and collected serious amounts of mistletoe, all covered in berries and ready to be kissed under. Unfortunately, with our van full to bursting with stock, my suggestion as to where we might put it all was met with a stony stare and a huff – is it not legal to strap large bundles of mistletoe to the van roof?
Newark in October can obviously be varied weather wise, but last week we had just about a little of everything – rain, sun, and lots of wind. On more than one occasion I thought our Marquee would take off as it rattled and pulled on it’s moorings. So, a big thanks to everyone that came and braved the weather
On arriving back home to France, it had obviously been raining here as some of my last flowers are looking a little down and dejected. I am still impressed with my pelargoniums as they are still flowering and have given a fabulous display all summer – they look so perky with their pink flowers tumbling over the windowsills and hopefully we will get another few weeks before the weather completely turns here, and they will turn brown and die with the cold.
Our local farmer has been hard at work for months with the wheat and corn, and he has just finished harvesting the last of the sunflowers. There is a definite nip to the air first thing in the morning, and we have had another delivery of wood ready for when the weather really gets cold.
Out and about this weekend hunting for brocante, we came across a fabulous market stall which had the most amazing assortment of squashes and pumpkins. Some of the varieties I have never seen before and the size of the pumpkins on display were enormous. We bought a small selection including some butternut squashes, which I love, and which will find themselves in soups and stews. On the way home, with treasure in the car, and whilst we were enjoying the last of the summer sun, we came around a corner to find a field full of camels. They obviously belonged to the nearby circus which travels around France and pitches their tents for a week or so, until it moves onto the next town. I don’t really like the thought of animals being used in these circumstances, but the camels were divine and gave us such a laugh as they ambled around in the field next to the supermarche. After all, what else would you expect to find but a herd of camels eating lunch!