There is always a splash of color among the greys and browns of a French city. A bright red pot and some greenery on the sill of this lucarne (dormer window) give this scene a simple but effective punch.
We're back down to single digits (but above freezing) now that the clouds are gone. And the full moon lights the night.
There's something quite inviting about these small urban spaces in French cities and towns. They're often not visible to passersby, tucked behind walls, in courtyards. But from up in the Cité royale above Loches, visitors can catch a glimpse of a few of these private spaces.
A little outdoor space in a crowded town is nice to have, especially if it's separated from the street. An oasis of calm, a little bit of nature, a place to putter around with flower pots. City dwellers seem to have a knack for making simple, seemingly left-over spaces like this beautiful.
This is a sideways view of the Porte royale (Royal Gate) that leads into the upper city at Loches. Only local traffic is allowed inside the gate (residents, workers) so visitors need to park outside and walk up. There are a couple of parking lots just outside the gate, as you can see, but most people have to park farther below.
Our nice weather is expected to end after today with a cold and rainy system predicted for Friday. I did get out yesterday to trim the daisy patch. I use a hedge trimmer to cut the dead stems down, then I rake them up and take them to the compost pile. The new daisy plants are already starting to come up. Daffodils around the yard are on the verge of blooming and the forsythia is starting, too. I'll see how the rain affects all that.
Tuesday turned out to be a beautiful day after some morning overcast cleared away. Our neighbors from Blois were out (parents, children, grandchildren, and friends) working in their yard all day, mowing, weed whacking, trimming, raking, and who knows what else. I, on the other hand, got two things done: I cleaned up and mowed the oregano patch and pruned our eight grape vines. I could get more done if I had a small army to help. But it's still only February. We have a lot of time.
Today may be the best day of our spring-like spell before it cools off and the rain comes back. I've got one or two more things I might tackle outside today. It feels good to be outdoors and starting the spring cleanup. It doesn't have to be all done at once. As they say in France, petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid (little by little, the bird builds its nest).
Today is Natasha's fourth birthday! Notice I used her full name. She was born in an "N" year and, according to French pedigree rules, her name had to begin with an "N." And so it does. In case you were wondering, 2021 is an "S" year. There was no "Q" year.
I wish I had gotten it together to get Tasha groomed, but it hasn't happened yet. So here she is in her scraggly splendor, a little unkempt around the edges, but still beautiful. And since we switched her back to her normal food, she's much more "regular." Thank goodness.
Happy birthday, Tasha! Extra biscuits today!
Sometimes you just have to take advantage of a dry, sunny spring day to get some chores done. Like hanging out the laundry. Or some of it.
We hang laundry outside during the nice weather in spring, summer, and fall. Otherwise, we hang it indoors or use the dryer. In winter, Ken likes to stretch certain items out on the radiators to dry, taking advantage of the heat to dry them and put some humidity into the air. I don't remember us hanging clothes out before we moved here. We always had and used dryers. I do remember my mother and grandmother using clotheslines when I was a kid. They had dryers, too, but they either liked how clothes dried outside or wanted to save the cost of running the dryer.
Here's a more abstract view from up in the Cité royale in Loches. The stone walls of the upper city contrast with the clay roof tiles on the houses in the lower part of the city.
The weather was nice yesterday, as predicted, and I got the hydrangeas pruned. We're expecting similar weather for the next few days and there are other little jobs I'd like to do. For instance, the oregano patch needs to be trimmed of last year's growth to make room for this year's. Same for the Jerusalem artichokes and the daisies. I wonder if our landscape contractor will want to get started on the garden path renovation and tree removals this week. Time will tell. I should take some "before" photos.
The neighborhood is almost full this weekend. Our next door neighbor and a friend of hers are here. The people from Blois who own the house across the road are here for a week. And the house two doors down that was converted to an Airbnb rental is occupied.
This private garden is walled off from the street, but it's in full view from the ramparts of the Cité royale in Loches. Whoever owns it did a really nice job. I wouldn't mind a place like this in the middle of the city. I wonder how much it would go for.
We're expecting a high temperature of 18ºC (64ºF) today. The one thing I want to accomplish outside today is the pruning back of our hydrangeas. They're planted under the deck on either side of the garage door, so when the deck work starts, they'll be vulnerable. Better to have them pruned back than broken. I'm sure the contractor has a way to protect plants while doing the sand-blasting that will be part of the renovation work. We still don't know when he plans to start, but I'm hopeful it will be in the next month or so. I guess it will depend on his other jobs and the weather.
This photo was taken near the northern point of the Cité royale in Loches, very close to the royal residence (visible on the right). It's looking roughly eastward. You can see the fifteenth century Porte de Cordeliers down below (with the pointy conical roofs), the eastern gate in what was then the wall around the lower city. The Indre River is just beyond.
From that gate, a street winds around the promontory and up to the Porte Royale on its eastern flank, the only access to the Cité royale above. It's a nice walk through the center of Loches if you don't mind walking uphill.
The city of Loches is actually two cities. The medieval château, the church of Saint-Ours, the renaissance royal residence, and many private residences are built on a rocky promontory above the Indre River. Below, on the flanks of the higher city and in the river valley itself, is where Loches expanded and grew in the centuries after its founding.
This is a view of a section of the ramparts that protected the Cité royale (royal city) up on the promontory. There is only one gate that leads up and into the highest part of the city. Other gates were built in the walls of the lower city as it expanded below.
I didn't know much about the history of Loches when I first started going there. My photos are random snapshots of what I saw while wandering around, without rhyme or reason. Since then I've learned a little more about what I was seeing and why it's there.
I think, based on the order these photos are in, that this is one of the walls of the medieval château at Loches. But I wouldn't bet my life on it. I think it's an interesting composition nonetheless.
We've been having a little trouble recently with Tasha's, um, "bathroom" habits. She's been having a hard time "going" and, when she does, well, the result is wet and runny and not at all normal for her. Sorry.
It occurred to me the other day that it may be her food. Duh. A couple of weeks ago, we changed her wet food to a different brand after getting a coupon for it. It's the same format as her regular pouch food, but made by another (well-known) brand. So we switched her back to the old brand. This morning she had no trouble going and the result was a nice healthy-looking poop. Having animals is so much fun!
About a year ago, a young couple bought one of the houses in our hamlet. It's a small house that was used as someone's vacation home during summer months. We met them last summer when another of our summertime neighbors invited them and us for drinks one evening. We were hesitant because of covid, but the gathering was small and outdoors, so we went. It was nice to meet the new neighbors.
One of them works at the zoo and the other is an agricultural consultant who works with small farm milk producers. And they have a pair of goats. Every now and then, most recently on Monday, they take the goats out for a walk through the vineyard. It's a sight that makes me smile.
Some of the walls of the donjon in Loches are fitted with a modern gutter system to keep rainwater from damaging the stonework. This simple outlet looks to be made of copper. It serves the same purpose as a gargoyle (to project water away from the sides of the building), but is not ornately sculpted.
The pigeon was standing in the dry outlet, keeping an eye on me as I pointed my camera and snapped the photo. I'm sure I was using my zoom lens and was, therefore, much farther away than it looks.
So far I've only found one photo in my collection of the inside of the donjon (keep) at the Château de Loches. I think I may have more, but I obviously didn't label them well enough to find them easily. This one will have to do.
As you can see, the interior structure (beams, floors, walls, and anything else that was not made from stone) is gone. The tower is an empty shell, except for the traces of fireplaces and windows and the numerous small rectangular niches in the walls that, I presume, once supported joists and beams. On the upper left you can see part of the modern metallic walkway and stair that visitors use to get to the top. The vertiginous climb is not for everyone.
Here I'm standing at the base of the 11th century donjon (keep) at the Château de Loches, looking up. This is a view of the exterior. Visitors can go inside the castle and climb up a modern stair built inside to get views of the surrounding region from the top. The tower is 36 meters (118 feet) tall.
There's a lot to see inside the castle, too. It's a paid entry, but well worth it, unless you're mobility impaired. There are many stairs up and down inside the walls and towers that make access difficult. I read on the website that wheelchairs can access the ground floor, but that's about it.
That's what I called this photo back in 2006 when I took it. It was a sunny and warm May day. Our friend Sue from California was visiting and we took her to see Loches. We visited the old donjon, the church of Saint-Ours, and the renaissance château, and we walked around in the city center for a while.
It's difficult to make out what the words below the painting say. The first line might read un amoureux du Lochois (one who loves the region of Loches). And I think the last line might end with ...peint en 1889 (painted in 1889), but I can't be sure.
After I wrote this, I did some extensive quick and dirty research on line and I think I found the painting. It seems to be the work of Emmanuel Lansyer (the big white letters on the poster probably spell out "Lansyer") who lived between 1835 and 1893, and it was indeed painted in 1889. A museum of Lansyer's works exists in Loches, not far from the royal residence where I took this photo.
A dusting. That's what we used to call this meager amount of snow. But it was fun to watch Wednesday morning as it gently floated down from the sky and start to stick on roofs, tree branches, and other cold surfaces. Our morning low started out just above freezing, then got colder as the day went on. We had snow flurries on and off all day. I built a nice fire in the wood stove and we hunkered down.
This morning it's cold. We're down close to minus five Celsius (twenty-three Fahrenheit). We're expecting the same for Friday morning. The highs aren't expected to get much above 1ºC through the weekend. At least the mud and puddles will freeze and Tasha won't be so dirty after her walks. February is often our coldest month and this one certainly is, so far.
I've taken pictures in Loches a few times over the years, so I thought I'd dust a few of them off and post them, even if I've posted them before. There are two distinct buildings in this view. On the right is a corner of the renaissance château built on a bluff above the center of the city. On the left is the Tour Saint-Antoine, the bell tower of a chapel that's long gone.
The chapel and its bell tower were built in the sixteenth century at what was then the northern edge of the city. After the French Revolution, the tower served as the city's bell tower until it was "decommissioned" in the early nineteenth century following a lightning strike that weakened the structure. The tower remains a nationally listed historic monument.
Tasha was out with me when I took the photos of the cyclamens. So I took one (actually several) of her, too. It's evident from this photo that she needs a bath and a good brushing. Weeks of muddy walks have taken their toll. Since her birthday is later this month, I may go ahead and make a grooming appointment for her.
Apparently the north of France is getting some snow today. We're too far south for this storm, but the forecasters are saying we may get a little bit later this evening, quickly changing to rain. Then it's going to get cold, like -5ºC (23ºF). If they're right, it will be our coldest low so far this winter.
Not more fog, just another picture from Saturday. We actually saw some sun on Sunday (imagine!) and it was nice. And the hunting season is over (for individual hunters, group hunts can still happen) so we don't have to worry about getting shot during Sunday walks. This weekend is the start of school winter vacations and I noticed more than the usual folks walking/jogging/cycling through the vineyard yesterday. Tasha notices them, too, and barks wildly whenever someone passes the house.
Some people around here have things called quads. I can only describe them as four-wheeled motorcycles. They love to drive them up our road and out into the vineyards. Vroooom-vroooom. Almost as annoying as leaf blowers and weed whackers, but not quite. The noise doesn't last as long.
Saturday was foggy. All day. Then it rained. It was a gloomy day, but still pretty. The muted light really showed up the grassy (and mossy) greens in the yard and the pinks and purples of the cyclamen. It doesn't show in these photos, but the sky had a very slight orange tint. We found out on the noon news that it wasn't our imaginations. The tint was caused by sand from the Sahara blowing northward over Europe. The orange color was much more pronounced down south than it was here. Still, we noticed it.
This morning the fog is gone and the sky is starry. That, of course, means that it's cold outside. Not freezing, but close. The forecasters are predicting freezing temperatures for Monday and Tuesday. At least there's no rain in the forecast. Many places around France are dealing with flooding after the weeks of rain we've had.
This is the time of year that the cyclamen in our yard bloom. They're all pink and purple in color and brighten up the winter. We have several patches here and there in the yard, mostly on the shaded north side of the house. Interspersed with the cyclamen are primroses, but they're just starting to get flowers. They will bloom more in the coming weeks.
The daffodils are up, too, but they're not ready to bloom yet. It's nice to see the flowers again. A sure sign that spring will come. But we know that it's likely to get cold again. We normally get some snow in February and sometimes in March. It never lasts long, but it's fun to see.
Loches is a small city (just under 7,000 people) about forty minutes south and west of us. Its prominent features include the ruins of a medieval château and its donjon, an interesting church, and a renaissance château, all built on the high bluff that dominates the city. The church is the final resting place of Agnès Sorel (1422-1450), the official mistress of king Charles VII.
Loches hosts an animated market every Wednesday and Saturday. I haven't been down to Loches in a while, especially since the pandemic hit, but it's a great destination for an easy day trip on a nice day. Besides the castles, the city is quite walkable with lots of shops and restaurants to tempt visitors.
Loches rhymes with a standard American pronunciation of the word "lush."
I'm still lacking in new photos. The weather has been crazy wet and I don't like taking the camera out in it. The river is flooding in the usual places down below. Tasha comes back from her walks soaked and muddy and needs an "undercarriage wash" after each one, mainly to rinse the sand off before it dries and falls all over the house. It still does, but to a lesser extent.
I don't know how the vineyard workers deal with the soggy ground, but they're out there most days pruning. Even in the wind and rain. And the wind! It keeps blowing back through the boiler's exhaust system and putting the flame out. Some days we've had to reset the boiler several times to keep the radiators warm. The past few days have been mild, but still.
I'm getting my hair cut this morning. We found out yesterday that our stylist, who just had twins last summer, has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She's so young and is now facing surgery this summer. Very sad.
Tuesday was la Chandeleur, a holiday on which it is traditional to eat crêpes. I made two batters, one with sarrasin (buckwheat) flour for the savory crêpes and one with standard flour for the dessert crêpes. Both batters rested in the fridge for a couple of hours so the flours could absorb the liquid.
Buckwheat crêpes are known as galettes bretonnes in France because Brittany is where the grain was (and still is) grown. We stuffed ours with ham slices, sautéed mushrooms, and a little Mornay (cheese) sauce, then folded each crêpe around the stuffing and heated them up in the oven. We served them with a fried egg on top.
The dessert crêpes are made with wheat flour. I used a cake/pastry flour, type 45 in France. We served some of them with butter and sugar, others with jam from the fridge. I didn't take any photos of those and, as always, there are none left over.
This may be the most recognizable feature of the château at Chinon. It's the tour de l'horloge (clock tower) that also serves as the gate into what they call the "middle" château. The tower was constructed in the year 1200 by Jean sans Terre (John Lackland, King of England, son of Henri II Plantagenêt) as he reinforced the château in advance of an invasion by Philippe Auguste of France.
Le Château du Milieu (the Middle Castle) is where the royal residence is located. It's flanked on the west by the Fort du Coudray and on the east by the Fort Saint-Georges. Together, the three châteaux make up the Forteresse Royale de Chinon. Visitors can climb the stairs to the top of the tower for impressive views of the town below and the river valley.
I think I've finished with the abbey at Fontevraud. This is a street in the nearby city of Chinon, a well-known wine town and home to the famed castle where Henri II and Eleanor or Aquitaine spent time. A few centuries later, Joan of Arc visited king Charles VII there.
It's been a while since we've been to Chinon, but we used to go frequently to buy wine (it's about an hour and half drive from us). The town below the castle is pretty with many nice restaurants and shopping opportunities. The castle itself, mostly in ruins (part of the royal residence was recently restored), is well worth a visit, and the vineyards on the banks of the Vienne River are beautiful. Of course, the pandemic has stopped most of that kind of tourism for now.
Or, more accurately, a model of an abbey. Still Fontevraud, of course. This is a model of the place they have on display. As a student of architecture and city planning, I love these kinds of things.
Last night and this morning are dry, but we're expecting another rain system to come through this afternoon and evening. The pond out back is overflowing, sending its water down the hill to one of the streams that feed the river. Everywhere I step is a muddy mess, except for the paved road. That's just wet.
Tuesday is la Chandeleur (Candlemas). I read that in the US, the traditional Christian holiday has been pretty much supplanted by Groundhog Day, which I see is translated into French as le jour de la marmotte, at least on Wikipedia. We're planning our annual crêpe fest, as is the tradition in France. Savory crêpes for lunch and sweet crêpes for dessert. There may be photos.
This is probably my second favorite pizza, after what the French call pizza reine (tomato sauce, ham, mushrooms, and cheese). There's no tomato sauce on this one. First, I slice a leek and steam/sauté it until tender. Then I sauté some lardons fumés (smoked bacon). When that's done, I use the bacon grease (there's not a lot) to caramelize some canned corn.
I use my home-made dough, enough for two personal-sized pizzas, made about four hours prior to baking so it can rise. I spread the tender leaks on first, add the bacon and corn, then grated cheese to taste. This time I used Ossau-Iraty, a sheep's milk cheese from the Basque region in southwestern France. We ate the pizzas with a bottle of the local red, a blend made mostly with gamay grapes. Delicious!
I suppose the black-and-white treatment isn't appropriate for stained glass. This colorful window sits high over the nave of the abbey church at Fontevraud. It's not the best angle. I don't know why I snapped it from this spot and didn't think to reposition myself to better frame the shot.
A little history: I started taking pictures when I was around fifteen years old. I still have a few of those first awkward snapshots in an album somewhere, taken with a Kodak 110 Instamatic camera. Six years later, when I went to Paris for the first time, I had a newer Kodak 110 for snapping my "Kodak moments." Those photos bring back nice memories, but they leave a lot to be desired in terms of photo quality.
Still later, while in college, I got my first 35mm SLR. It was a Pentax, I don't remember which model, but I do remember the lens that came with it was defective and leaked light. The result was a lot of disappointing over-exposed photos. Once I figured out it was the lens that was broken and not me, I traded it in for one that worked. Then I took a couple of photography classes at school, really got into taking color slides, and amassed a sizeable collection over the years. Unfortunately, my slide projector is long gone, so looking at the slides is not easy. I scanned a lot of them since starting this blog and posted many of those images here. After the Pentax, I moved to Canon EOS Rebel SLRs.
I started using a digital camera in 2003 when I took these photos at Fontevraud. I borrowed Ken's Canon PowerShot Pro 90 to see if I liked digital photography. I did, and slides instantly became history. I continued using Ken's pocket cameras for a while (he had several) until I bought my first digital camera in 2006, a Panasonic Lumix bridge camera. Six years later, I got my first DSLR, a Canon T3i. In 2016 I upgraded to a Canon 6D.
These roofs are above the kitchen at the Fontevraud abbey. The "lanterns" that rise above the roof tiles are the chimneys above what used to be the kitchen's fires and ovens. From what I read, there's some uncertainty about the specifics of the kitchen's layout when it was in use.
My errands on Wednesday went without a hitch. The woman at the insurance office was friendly and helpful as usual. The credit card worked (even though it didn't on line) and the bill is paid. I got what I needed at the hardware and housewares stores (including plastic bins for the pantry), and the dump, although crowded, was relatively easy.
Today I'm making leek and bacon pizzas for lunch.
I'm sure they were not intended to be whimsical, but that's my impression of this combination of different roof styles. Most of them cover the abbey's chapter house, topped by the steeple. The other roofs are part of the cloister (background) and the Saint-Benoît chapel (foreground).
It seems that France may be entering another confinement (lockdown) very soon. The president was expected to make a decision today, but nothing is certain at this point. I'm planning to run some errands today in advance of things potentially getting difficult. The car is loaded for another run to the déchetterie (dump). Nothing heavy this time, just some bulky things and a bunch of cardboard. I have to go to our insurance office and pay the car insurance bill. The online payment site isn't taking my American credit card. I've had this problem before. And I have a few things I want from the hardware store. The other thing I need is a haircut, so I'll have to try to get an appointment in case the salon has to shut down. Again.
Here is an exterior view of the chevet (apse) of the abbey church at Fontevraud. You may be able to identify the three windows at the top of yesterday's photo. Rounded arches are typical of the romanesque architectural style, but in the transept I can see slight points on the arched windows, an indicator of the emerging gothic style.
We're below freezing by a couple of degrees again this morning. I don't mind because the puddles will be frozen over and the dirt road will be dry. No muddy paws this morning.
The chevet (apse) of a catholic church contains the chancel, the choir, the ambulatory, and, often, apsidal chapels. This is a shot of the upper portion of the apse in the abbey church at Fontevraud. The church is not a cathedral. In fact, it's technically not even a church, having been "supressed" at the time of the French revolution.
The complex was converted to use as a prison in the nineteenth century, then became the property of the French Ministry of Culture in 1963. According to Wikipedia, a major restoration was done in the 1970s and the complex opened to the public in 1985.
Tired of these yet? This is the interior of the abbatiale (abbey church) at Fontevraud. Construction of the church began in the twelfth century. It's built mostly in the romanesque architectural style.
This morning our outdoor thermometer reads zero, freezing. I'm sure it's colder out in the vineyards. And it's my morning to walk with Tasha. It's also a hunt day, but now that the days are getting longer, we can get out and back before the hunters arrive. Unless there's an organized hunt. They start earlier.
It will be interesting to see how frozen things are. The ground is saturated after two days of decent rain. It might be too warm to freeze, or not.
This is one of the arcades that define the cloister at the Fontevraud abbey. The photo has special significance for us because the woman standing is our friend Cheryl who passed away several years ago. She was among the first of our friends to come and visit us after we moved here.
My pulled back muscle feels much better now. The pain has faded to a soreness that is all but gone, depending on how I move. I knew that I was going to have trouble with that broken down lawnmower, but I'm very happy to have it gone.
I find that, sometimes, taking the color out of a photo makes it better. Not that there was much color in this image to begin with. These are steeples and the bell tower at Fontevraud abbey. The sky and the slate roofs came out with a blue tint. Just toning down the blue didn't do much for me, so I took all the color out, adjusted the contrast a little, and I like the shot much better.
When I first switched over to digital photography, I used Adobe Photoshop Elements to adjust my photos. I didn't do anything fancy, just cropping, rotating to fix bad angles, and applying some color and lighting adjustments. These days, I'm shooting in RAW format and using Adobe Lightroom to "develop" the images before exporting them to the JPG format for posting on the blog. I'm sure that I don't use Lightroom to its full potential, but not being a professional, it doesn't matter much. There are people on the internet that offer tutorials and hints for using the software and most of what I've learned has come that way.
I shot these older images from Fontevraud with a pocket camera in JPG format. That means that the camera's internal software made the "developing" choices for me and that there was less "information" in the photo to manipulate later. The RAW format gives me a lot more control. Still, many problems just can't be fixed with software. It helps to take a good photograph in the first place. I'm still working on that.
This isn't the cloister, but another courtyard inside the abbey complex at Fontevraud. I don't have much to say about it, but I liked the way that the potted shrubs were arranged.
I went to the dump as planned on Wednesday morning. The line to get in was long, but it moved quickly enough. I had to ask the attendant to help me lift the old lawnmower up and into the dumpster. He was really nice, I could not have done it myself. Still, in the process, I managed to pull a back muscle. Ugh. Ibuprofen helped.
Last week, I had some leftover applesauce in the fridge and some leftover pie dough in the freezer, so I decided to make a tarte. When I make pie crust, I always have some left over, so I freeze it. When there's enough, I can thaw it, roll it out, and make another crust. I spread the applesauce onto the blind-baked crust then layer on some sliced fresh apples. Then it's into the oven until the apples are cooked. I glazed this one with Ken's home-made plum jelly.
Now I have a few apples left, so I'm thinking of making a little compote. That's a fancy word for chunky applesauce.
Yesterday's post of an alter or tomb at the Fontevraud abbey got some interesting comments, chief among them that fellow blogger Mitchell's partner is a descendant of Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II Plantagenet. The former king of England and his wife are buried in the abbey, and their gisants (tomb effigies) lie above their crypt.
If you're a student of European history or have seen the 1968 film "The Lion in Winter," you probably know their story, so I won't go into it here. I'm in the latter camp. One year, upon our return from a vacation in France during which we visited Chinon and Fontevraud abbey, I was battling jet lag and unable to sleep. I turned on the television and, just by chance, that movie came on and I watched it. I don't think I had seen it before. An eerie coincidence.
My favorite line from the film: “I know. You know I know. I know you know I know. We know Henry knows,
and Henry knows we know it. We're a very knowledgeable family.” --Prince Geoffrey.
Here's a flashback to the fall of 2003, shortly after we moved to France. A friend was visiting and we spent a lot of time tooling around our region exploring châteaux and churches and villages. And cafés and restaurants. I posted a smaller, more severely cropped, version of this photo back in 2010.
I don't know what it is, but it's inside the abbey church at Fontevraud, not far from Chinon. I liked how the candles mimicked the columns on the sculpted stone. If I remember correctly, we had our dog, Collette, with us. Ken stayed outside the abbey walking the dog around and sipping wine in a café while our friend C. and I went inside for a look. We had visited this place once before, so he wasn't missing out.
Well, no, it isn't. It just looked that way on Saturday morning as the sun rose. I had to move fast, and the few photos I took don't communicate any of the drama I felt as the light intensified. I should have taken a video. After a few minutes, the vibrant colors dulled and faded into a more familiar gray.
Later in the morning, we got some snow. Very fine flakes fell for about a minute, then it was over. We had some rain overnight.
The "Christmas" cactus around the house are starting to bloom. This is not new. I once (ok, more than once) referred to them as "Presidents' Day" cactus because they like to bloom in February. This photo is from last March. Today's cacti have nice pink buds, but very few open flowers right now. They'll get better as we get closer to Presidents' day, which this year is February 15, about a month from now.
There's snow going on somewhere, but not here. At least not yet. We're on the line between snow and rain. My money's on rain.
Here's a gratuitous shot of Saint-Aignan's church. It's called une collégiale, a church operated by a college of canons. Not being a Catholic, I'm not really sure what that means other than that there's no resident priest in town.
Our brief spell of mild weather comes to an end this morning. Temperatures should be dropping through the day. There's even a slight chance of some snow, but nothing significant.
Until last fall, the view of this house from our deck was obscured by two very tall pine trees. Our neighbor has since had those trees removed. And now that the leaves have fallen from the other trees, this is what we see. Fortunately for us, the neighbor who owns this house does not live in it. She uses it for holidays and summer visits. When she's here, she's very discreet. We hope she has no plans to sell.
I'm looking forward to spring and the return of leaves to see how much we'll be able to see when summer comes. This view is of the back of the house, a bedroom, bath, and w.c. on the main floor, and a couple of skylights in the attic bedrooms. For eighteen years, we could pretend there wasn't a house over there. No longer.
As Mr. Peabody might say, let's step into the WABAC (or Wayback) machine... Here we go, all the way back to the year 2016. I was in New York City seeing the inside of the Guggenheim Museum for the first time. I went more to see the building than the art. Good thing, because most of the art was gone. They were preparing a new installation on the building's iconic spiral ramp.
My friend and I did get to see the art in the museum's "new" (1992) wing. Then we went down the street to the Neue Galerie to see Gustav Klimt's Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, also known as "The Woman in Gold" thanks to a British movie about it, and Edvard Munch's The Scream. Photos were prohibited.
The past few mornings have been very frosty. With morning lows below freezing, it's no surprise. Once the sun comes out (when it does), the frost melts away pretty quickly, except in places that stay shaded all day. Heavy frosts remind us that it's winter without the mess of an actual snowfall. And, we are told, freezes are good for helping to reduce the populations of insect and plant pests.
A weather system is moving in today from the Atlantic that will put an end to our frosty mornings, at least for a while. We're expecting highs close to 10ºC (50ºF) with some rain over the next few days. I'm sure, however, that winter will be back before too long.
I took this picture almost a year ago during a trip back to upstate New York for my aunt's funeral. When I travel to New York, I like to try the local wines. This was a short trip, so I didn't have time to try very many. This is one of the few that I did.
Glenora Winery is in central New York's Finger Lakes region, on the western shore of Seneca Lake. It's just north of Watkins Glen State Park at the southern end of the lake. The waterfall on the label is Glenora Falls on Big Stream, not far from the winery. The chardonnay was good, crisp and fruity, if I remember correctly.
Now that the weather's turned cold, I put the feeders out so that the little birds in our neighborhood will stop by for a meal. One of the feeders hangs from the deck railing just outside the sliding glass door in the living room. We get a good look at the blue tits, robins (the small European variety), and finches that visit throughout the day. Tasha and Bert like to watch.
We have three feeders. One seed dispenser hangs from one of the maple trees out front. The feeder on the deck is a wire cage that holds suet balls. I hang another seed dispenser above the real fake well out back. I still have to get that one filled and out there. Maybe today.
