Autumn now has us firmly in its grip. The lazy days of summer already seem but a memory, thoughts are turning towards winter and the holidays. But there’s a lot to enjoy about this month and I don’t want to rush it.  Despite the chill in the evening air and the lashing rain which can beat seemingly relentlessly against the windows the sun, when it makes an appearance here still has some real warmth to it. Enough to make an outdoor lunch a pleasure, when and only when the weather is feeling kind!

But it is a contradictory time of year. The harvest is over, vineyards here are quiet after the hive of activity of grape picking. Everywhere trees are changing colour and the leaves are beginning to fall. Intense greens are giving way to russets and reds, oranges and yellows, the colours of autumn. It’s a time for the gourds to take centre stage, pumpkins and squash.

Yet at the same time our cosmos are still flourishing, providing a constant supply of flowers for the house, I cut fresh bunches every few days and they still keep on giving. The pastel shades of violets and purples, the whites and hot pinks which we took for granted during the summer now seem at odds with their surroundings.

And elsewhere roses are still blooming against sheltered walls.

Lighting the fire in the evening has become a regular feature. A wonderful cosy feel which encourages us to slow down and relax with a glass of wine.

But on a fine day by mid morning when the sun is relatively high we can open the doors and fling wide the windows, letting in as much fresh air as we can. Banishing the scent of woodsmoke for a few hours until dusk returns.

It’s the season for soups, thick country hearty potage, perfectly accompanied by a good crusty baguette or warm toast.

However, our vegetable garden is still producing salad leaves, tomatoes and cucumbers. This makes salads still very much a part of our menu. Although now we add some mozzarella or hot pan fried halloumi with warm freshly made croutons. Just enough to turn the summer staple into something a little more suited to autumn.

Soon the days will be considerably shorter when the clocks change at the end of the month. Soon winter will be upon us, but just for the moment we can enjoy everything autumn has to offer, she may be rather contrary but she’s also a season drenched in tradition. It is the perfect time to reflect and to embrace change. Autumn is a time for letting go of things that have troubled us. In fact everything one reads about autumn reminds us that it is a spiritual season to relinquish unnecessary burdens. Right at the moment I think we are all troubled in these increasingly challenging times. However a brisk walk, breathing in huge lungfuls of fresh air, kicking up leaves, taking a five minute pause and watching them silently fall goes a long way to recharging the batteries. I wish you all a safe and happy week. xx

Autumn is here. I can smell it each night as households along the village road light their first fires of the season, and each day when I go down to the chicken garden the fallen leaves across the grass seem more numerous. After a day of wind I find twigs scattered across the driveway and in the corner of the gîte garden the smell of fermenting figs is only now starting to fade. Despite the number of fruits we harvest, our dear tree always gives us more figs than we can deal with.

Roddy seems to be everywhere with the barrow and the rake, tugging green bins of waste down to the compost heap and in the summer kitchen the biggest spiders of the year are out and about, finding mates in the final scurrying of their lives, tip-toeing to arachnid tunes across the limed walls and in amongst the pots and bags of compost. On the one hand there is decay and death on the air, and yet life is still frenzied in its rush to oblivion. 

With Halloween in the air, and the holiday of Toussaints a handful of days away, it’s still warm enough to light the fire-pit and roast marshmallows when needed, and each morning now when I go down to the kitchen I pat the small wood-stove in anticipation. Soon we shall be lighting it before breakfast, and the dogs will lie on the wooden chest alongside it, sharing its warmth.

Life is completing another long slow elliptical circuit through the universe, and our planet, whirling through the vacuum of space, is showing our side of it to the cold outer edge of the galaxy. In just two months we will have reached the nadir of our winter orbit, though and the days will start to become shorter yet again as the lives of all living things on earth teeter on the seasonal axis.

As our home soars across the great void, it is still carrying the curse we call COVID; it’s a virus that is not going away soon, and the human race has adapted to it in many ways, even if we are no nearer to defeating it. COVID will be here for a while, but I have no doubt we will – eventually – find a way to contain it, and hopefully defeat it. It’s just one of many obstacles that our species has struggled against over half a million years or more. It is not the first catastrophe we have faced, and nor will it be the last, but I sincerely hope that this time, when we come out on the far side of this crisis, we will remember it as a herald of change. In the great context of stellar history, COVID is but a short, sharp blip, and I really hope it may jolt our race out of complacency and into a new future. COVID and climate change are the two major issues our children may be facing soon, but it is fascinating to think that conquering one may lead to the defeat of another. 

Have a wonderful week, everyone, and stay safe. I hope you enjoy the pictures – they are what they are, images of life in France at this end of a strange year. XXX

Times are challenging for a lot of people right now, and while I’m certain there are some who have made plenty of money out of this pandemic I’m also sure there are many of us for whom times are harder than they were this time last year. Along the way a lot of you will have spent a great deal more time at home than you have in the past and I think all of us are looking at both the way we live and our houses a little differently. For me it’s become a good time to find comfort in surrounding myself with well-loved and well-worn objects, things that have a history behind them and a story to tell. I find that it doesn’t have to be an expensive antique, but perhaps something as simple as a very comfortable old chair that has seen better days, or something that just needs a bit of a makeover to give it a new lease of life. A little touch of TLC is often all that it takes to make something to keep you company for a few more decades.

I’ve often found it’s not just a quick mending with some super glue that’s needed, but sometimes something a little special, a repair or renovation that matches the value of the original workmanship of something and extends its life exponentially. I always think that’s why it pays to buy quality: both new and old. One of the first things I did during ‘lockdown’ in the spring was to repaint all of the garden furniture. Any rusty parts I first did with a coating of anti-rust paint and then I gave everything two coats of Farrow and Ball’s Exterior Eggshell in Wimborne White. I love F&B’s paints as they are eco-friendly and so lovely to use. Now this old garden furniture which has certainly seen better days should last another few decades I hope.

And if you can’t afford good quality new things, then look for second-hand.

Whatever I do, I always add a touch of vintage, a touch of nostalgia, as a nod to the past when many things were made by hand, when a pot was thrown down the road by a local artisan, and if something was bought from the other side of the country it was considered an enormously long way.

I think by surrounding ourself these things like this, it can reassure the soul and comfort the artist that resides in every human. Take, for example, a simple evening weekday meal. You’ve had a long hard day and you’re finally sitting down with your partner or children or a couple of friends. You’ve rustled up a quick supper, maybe just a hearty country vegetable soup that you made over the weekend – all you’ve had to do is heat it up and pick up a crusty baguette or country loaf of bread on the way home. Now you sit down at last, the soup is steaming in the middle of the table in an old French soupier. The bowls are classic French vintage lions head soup bowls, the flatware is heavy and amazing quality and again antique. As you swirl the red wine around in the glass you can admire the pretty crystal. Somehow everything feels right. Even this most casual of meals has an elegant tone to it.

I can’t describe it any other way, using these beautifully made items changes everything. There was a time when the best china stayed in the cupboard only to be used at Christmas or on special occasions. It gathered dust and sometimes was not even seen for a year. I know that was certainly the way in our house.  Now, however, we’ve changed all of that; we use it for breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and if it gets a crack or a chip or the glaze is covered in tiny lines known as crazing, we don’t cry we embrace it, it’s a part of the history, another story in the look book of short verses. At least we enjoyed it.

The photographs below show some of the major renovation of our garden chairs this past month. They were plastic ‘rattan’ and rather expensive, but after eight years the rattan was falling apart, literally disintegrating after so many years exposure to hot sun. However the frames were as solid as a rock, very well made and rigid and we didn’t want to just throw them out, to become another thing in the landfill. But a new pair of similar chairs would have been really expensive here in France and I couldn’t work out how to repair them. Thankfully, someone did – Roddy removed all of the old rattan and put that in the recycling so we were left with just the iron frame.

Then he set to work with some panels of treated outdoor timber fencing panels which are very inexpensive. Some were new and some had been already used for a now ended project – he never throws anything away (which although it drives me crazy, does have its eventual benefits). He took apart the panels and cut the small planks to size, one by one, attaching them directly to the frame with self-tapping screws.

And that was how he remade our chairs, which are now totally unique, bespoke garden chairs, that will hopefully last another decade or more.

I love this sort of thing, the resurrection of goods and chattels that not only reflect the original work that has gone into them, years or sometimes centuries ago, but new love and care that anyone with time and patience can put back into them, too. All of this just enriches the story behind them, and it’s the special care that we put into this resurrection that I think gives us the comfort we need in these troubling times.

I hope you are all safe and sound wherever you are, and manage to find some beauty in the little things this week! I would love to hear about what items bring you special comfort.

Susan x