Grape buds

These buds will become flowers and, in turn, grape bunches. Provided that a freeze doesn't stop them from developing. So far, so good. Our morning lows have struggled back upward reducing the risk of a damaging freeze. After a couple more weeks we should be clear of frost danger.

Future wine.

Tasha has gained a little weight, so the vet said to keep an eye on her and try to reduce her caloric intake. She's already on a diet kibble for her daily lunch meal after a breakfast of half a small pouch of wet food mixed with grated zucchini. I guess we've been a little too loose with scraps and tid-bits from our own cooking. No more! We can't risk her weight contributing to another torn ligament.

Wet weekend ahead

Looks like rain will be moving in later today and staying with us through the weekend. So much for getting more grass cut. I did the north forty yesterday afternoon, so at least there's that. As usual, it was much easier to cut the second time than the first.

I'm just a dandy lion.

Tasha has her annual vet visit this afternoon. A quick checkup and her shots and that'll be that for another year. Next month she has a grooming appointment. It will be six months since her last grooming, probably a month or two too long. I need to get her into a four month schedule. She's looking like a clydesdale around the ankles.

The inside scoop

The inside of a tulip, that is. The two volunteer tulips out back are close to loosing their petals now. I'll miss them.

One of two volunteer tulips in the back yard.

I'm ready for some warmer weather. I built a fire in the wood stove yesterday and that helped to take the chill off. I might do it again today.

Les ancolies

These are columbine, I believe. Ancolies in French. Pink ones like this, and others that are blue, come up every year in our daisy patch. This year there are fewer of them than usual, and I don't see any blue ones yet.

Ancolies.

Our friend and neighbor, Bernard, was laid to rest in our local cemetery yesterday. The ceremony was sober and brief. I teared up a bit when the casket was lowered into the ground. At the end, attendees were invited to sprinkle rose petals on the casket, a custom in France but not one that I remember back in the US. Bernard's family hosted a reception afterward at their house across the road from us. A very nice affair, filled with memories and laughter. There must have been thirty or so cars parked all around. It was good to see people we've met over the years but haven't seen in a while. Among them, a young woman, one of Bernard's many granddaughters, who remembered us from when she was four years old.

La glycine

Our wisteria is in full bloom, so I thought I should get some photos before the blossoms fade away. I think I just made it. I've forgotten when we planted it, but it's been a while. It grows very well where it is, a western exposure, and I have to trim it back almost every year. One day I'll try to tackle a drastic pruning, but not without doing some research fist. I don't want to kill it.

Wisteria flowers in Monday's low morning light.

The grape growers in our immediate area don't seem to be too worried about today's frost threat. There's no sign of smudge pots or anything else out there. I can hear the fans blowing in the vineyards up north of the river. They sound like helicopters in the distance, except that they never get closer or farther away. They keep the air moving around the vines to help prevent freezing air from settling in.

Ten years ago this week

Ten years ago it was 2014. Already. How is that possible? Bert the black cat was already here for four years then, comfortable in his "new" territory. There were a few more trees on the property then. That big apple on the left didn't have much time remaining when this picture was taken.

Spring was lush and green, much like this year, in April of 2014.

Ken's plum tree, the dark red tree behind Bert, was smaller than it is today, but had already grown to this size from a pit. Callie the border collie was still with us but was already seven years old. Tasha wouldn't be born for a few years yet.

Plowed

This is a curious parcel of land. I think it was bare for a while but, for the past few years, it's been plowed and planted. With what, I couldn't tell you. It looks like potato plants, but then I've never seen an actual potato around harvest time. There's no irrigation except what falls from the sky.

The parcel is plowed twice each spring. The second plowing breaks up all those big clumps.

Our outdoor thermometer reads 4ºC (about 39ºF) this morning. The central heat is on inside the house. The predicted high temperature is 10º. I still haven't lit a fire in the wood stove, but that might change.

Tails of cats

They're called cattails where I come from, bulrushes in the UK, and massettes here in France according to Wikipedia. I had to look that up. These grow in the pond outside our back gate. Their neat, fuzzy brown tops have gone to seed, as can be seen by the tan woolly tops here.

Bulrushes/cattails in the pond out back. The dark plant on the water's surface is jussie, an invasive weed.

 

We have a busy week ahead. Today is market day and I have a hankerin' for moules et frites (mussels and fries) for lunch. On Tuesday we'll attend the burial of our neighbor, Bernard. On Wednesday we're expecting a visit from CHM's two nieces who are passing through on their way to Paris. And, on Friday, Tasha goes to the vet for her annual check-up and shots. And the morning lows are expected to dip to 1ºC, that's very close to freezing, most of the week.

Le pliage

The folding. That's what they call bending the single grape vine cane that's left after pruning to the horizontal and attaching it to a guide wire. And that's what's going on in the vineyards behind our house right now. The workers bend the cane manually, then use a battery-powered hand tool to apply a "twisty tie" to hold the cane to the wire. It's the last step in preparing the vines for the growing season.

The vines have begun to leaf-out. They're really pretty this time of year.

Closer to home (in our back yard), I'm working to eliminate the last few table grape vines from the lawn. Most of them came out relatively easily (with the aid of a pick-axe), but the last three have bigger trunks and are really difficult to dislodge. I tried using my chainsaw, but the chain guide broke in the attempt. Oops. I should have tried the hand saw first.

Sunday sunrise

This was last Sunday's sunrise. The sky was filled with jet trails; a few of them are visible in this shot. They lasted longer than usual and made interesting patterns. I'm easily amused.

Fog lies low in the Cher Valley as airliners criss-cross the sky. Looking toward the north east from out in the vineyards.

As predicted, our mornings are quite chilly this week. Extra blankets are on the bed and the heat is coming on again. I haven't built a fire, yet. But if this continues... There's still a danger of frost as the morning lows start to flirt with zero. Now it's time to bundle up and walk the dog.

RIP Bernard

We got the news yesterday that our neighbor and friend, Bernard M., passed away Monday night. He was 94 years old. We met Bernard and his wife, Maryvonne, very shortly after we moved into our house, across the road from their summer place, back in 2003. They made us feel welcome and at home in the neighborhood from the start.

Bernard inspecting his property. April 2011.

Bernard took great pride in maintaining his yard. "Nickel-chrome" he called it, once the mowing was done. It wasn't summer unless Bernard was on his riding mower, keeping the place beautiful. I hope they have riding mowers wherever he's gone to. Bernard will feel right at home.

Our thoughts are with his family and Maryvonne.

Volunteers

Last year, a tulip popped up in the lawn near the back gate. I mowed around it all spring and summer and eventually, as tulips do, its green leaves died back. This year, it came up again. With a sibling. I'll mow around them again until the greens disappear. What will we get next year, I wonder?

A pair of surprise tulips in the back yard.

I gathered up my courage and went out into the chilly, blustery air after lunch yesterday and mowed the south forty. I still have the strip outside the hedges to do. But now the yard has had its first cut of the year. It should be relatively easy to keep it in good shape from here on out, unless it's exceptionally rainy and I can't mow for weeks.

Yard work

The only yard work I got done on Sunday was the garden path clean-up. The dew was heavy and didn't dry up until after noon. We're not supposed to make noise before ten in the morning or after noon on Sundays and holidays, so grass cutting will wait until another day.

Clean-up on aisle one!

Our neighbor to the east was here over the weekend. She often cuts her grass with a weed-eater. I guess that works better than a lawn mower in dew-drenched grass. She was out there promptly at 10h00 yesterday and stopped at noon. It's nice when people pay attention to the rules.

Apple blossom time

I tried to get a good shot of the apple trees in flower, but the bright sun makes it difficult, at least for me. Not that I'm complaining. The summery weather we've had for a few days was most welcome. After today things will get chillier again. It looks, however, like it may stay dry for a while longer.

Apple blossoms seen from the north side of the deck.

I finished cutting the west forty yesterday. Phew! There were a lot of tall, thick patches of grass and other weeds to fight through. But it's done. I may cut the south forty today (I cut it for the first time during a break in the rain a couple of weeks ago). It'd be nice to get it cut again to the same height as the rest. I'm also working on cleaning up the gravel path out back. Sticks, branches, pine cones, and dead leaves collect on the path all winter. Getting it all up takes a little time, but it's not at all difficult.

Another view

Once again, here's the Fontaine des Mascarons in the village of Séguret. Each of the three "masks" is unique.

Fontaine des Mascarons in Séguret. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

We're expecting a warm day today. More grass cutting! For the record, I only got about half of the west forty cut yesterday. There are some really thick patches that take a lot of energy to push the mower through. Even though the mower is self-propelled, it still takes some effort in the thick grass. And the west forty is the largest section. That leaves Sunday morning for the south forty (we can make noise between 10h00 and 12h00 on Sundays) and that will depend on how quickly the morning dew evaporates.

I'm heading in to the market this morning. Asparagus, radishes, and egg rolls are on the list. I'll also look for some chicken sausages and maybe even some fish. Depends on how busy it is and how long the lines are.

Fontaine des Mascarons

This confirms it. The Fountain of the Masks is in the village of Séguret. So says Wikipedia. And Séguret is where the past few photos were taken. Three grotesque masks adorn the fountain, intended to ward off evil spirits. It dates from the seventeenth century and is classified as a historic monument since 1984.

Two of three mascarons that spit water from their mouths. Yum. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Good news! I was able to mow the north forty yesterday. I'm planning to do the west forty today and, hopefully, the south forty on Saturday. That should hold us for a week or so, until it all has to be done again.

Boutique

Back to Provence, for now. I think this is another shot from Séguret, a hillside town not far from Châteauneuf-du-Pape. It's one of the Côtes du Rhône Villages appellations in the lower portions of the Rhône Valley.

Ceramics, foody things, and wine available in this shop in Séguret.

Which grapes go into Séguret (and other villages wines from the area) is kind of complicated. The primary grape (grenache noir) must make up at least fifty percent of the blend. Two other secondary varieties (syrah and mourvedre) must make up at least twenty percent. Together, these three grapes must make up at least eighty percent of the finished wine. Other blending varieties (too many to mention) are limited to no more than twenty percent. Got it?

Special note to Raybeard: So sorry to learn of Patchie's passing. Twenty years is a long time to spend with a pet (although it's also not long enough). I'm still unable to comment on your blog, so I'm hoping that you'll pass by here one day and find these well wishes.

I spy, with my little eye...

It's been windy and cold these past few days. This morning's low is around 6ºC. Brrr. It's not unheard of to have a freeze this time of year. Frost danger lasts until mid-May.

Can you see the little spider on the iris petal?

I saw this little critter on one of our irises the the other day. Unbeknownst (that word looks funny in print) to me, Ken also saw it and took the same photo. I started the "pick up sticks" chore in the back yard yesterday. Two wheelbarrow loads of grape vines that I dug up a while back, and fallen branches from our tilleul (linden tree). I still have three grape vine trunks to dig out of the ground.

Tasha Tuesday

It's apple blossom time! Our two (remaining) apple trees are flowering now. I took this photo on Sunday; since then there are even more open blossoms on the trees. Tasha likes to look for critters she hears moving through the tall grass. Unlike Bert (who was an expert hunter), she can't catch anything.

Tasha's standing in the SE corner of the vegetable garden. It's getting to be tilling time.

I'm afraid that the profusion of blossoms on the trees (there were hardly any last year) will mean tons of apples this year. Tons of apples that will have to be gathered up before mowing the grass in summer. Whoa! I'm getting ahead of myself. Before I worry about summer, I've got to get the grass cut now before it gets totally out of control. A few dry days would be nice.

Blossoms

This is either a fruitless cherry or a fruitless plum. Who can say? It's fruitless. Whatever it is, it's putting on its annual show in our back yard right now.

Pink flowers on a fruitless tree.

The frogs in the pond outside of our back gate are in fine form, voice-wise. They're croaking up a storm, day and night. And every time I walk by, they shut up and retreat under water until I've passed. Ribbit!

Water under the bridge

I finally got my act together to stop down by the river in Saint-Aignan for some photos of the high water. Of course, by the time I did (yesterday), the water level had dropped significantly. But there's still quite a dam of tree trunks and branches under the bridge. The island (where I'm standing) is closed to cars and pedestrians so I couldn't get any better views than this.

The château at Saint-Aignan looms over the only bridge in town. The next bridges are about five kilometers away in either direction.

To boot, there's some kind of work going on at the bridge (maybe cleaning the stone?) that's now been interrupted. There's scaffolding set up on the other (downstream) side that you can't see in this shot. They actually closed the bridge for a short time a few days ago to clear out some of the debris. As you can see here, there's still work to be done.

Where are we now?

I'm not at all sure where these next few images were taken. They could be from Châteauneuf-du-Pape (why, when I type that name, does it always come out as Châteauneuf-du-Papa?). Or, it could be from one of the nearby towns. Séguret comes to mind. I'll continue to look for clues.

This looks like a fig tree beside a curvy street. Provence, September 2001.

It's supposed to be a warm day today. I have plans to go to the market (for asparagus) and to the vet's office to pick up some dental chews and a new sack of kibble for Tasha.

L'envers du décor

This is the other side of the ruins of the castle in Châteauneuf-du-Pape (yesterday's photo). Not much there. But fascinating, nonetheless.

The title of this post means "behind the scenes." Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

We're supposed to have a relatively warm weekend. I'm not expecting things to dry out enough for me to cut the grass, but maybe I'll get some other jobs done. Like picking up the winter's fallen sticks and branches, or digging out the remaining three grape vines, cleaning up the garden path, or pruning the big hydrangea. I don't think it's window washing weather, yet, but there's still no lack of chores to choose from.

Le château neuf

After climbing up the streets and stairways of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, we arrived at the donjon, apparently the only remaining bit of the old "new" castle. And don't let this view fool you; there's nothing behind those walls except air. The castle is a shell of its former self, literally.

Stop and buy some wine while you're at it. Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

It's raining again this morning. I don't know how much soggier things can get. I drove by the river yesterday and it's high. Parts of the island at Saint-Aignan are under water. Fortunately, it's a park and nobody lives there, but there are buildings that could be damaged if the flooding gets worse. This morning it's my turn take Tasha out for her walk in the rain. Unlike Neíl Sedaka, the only laughter I hear is snickering.

Window dressing

It seems like everywhere you turn in France, and probably most of Europe (and beyond!), there's a picturesque window with shutters and pretty flowers. It's hard not to take photos of them and I probably have way too many. Here's another one.

No flowers on this window sill in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, but the color is nice. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

We woke up to light rain this morning. The radar shows that it's moving off soon. I can't believe I'm writing this: we need to dry out a little. River flooding has reached several communities in our area. Thankfully, where we are is mostly high and sort of dry. No leaks to report (knock on wood), although we have been eating leeks this week. LOL. The ground is saturated and everywhere you turn it's spongy and/or muddy.

The streets of Châteauneuf-du-Pape

Here's another snapshot I took while walking toward the ruins of the donjon in Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Chateauneuf-du-Pape. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

We had a brief thunderstorm yesterday afternoon accompanied by sleet (little ice pellets). There were probably two lightning bolts followed by thunder. Then it was over. There was another giboulée (shower) later in the evening with rain and wind, but no thunder. The weather people are predicting summer-like weather by the end of the week. I hope that they're right.

Easter dessert

I haven't made individual tarts in quite a while, so I thought why not? These are amandine aux poires (almond pear tarts). I've made full-sized amandine many times so, again, why not try the little ones? My individual, non-stick tart pans haven't had much of a workout in recent years; they performed beautifully.

Tartes amandine aux poires.

The filling is made with ground almonds, butter, eggs, flour, sugar, and a shot of Poire Williams (pear brandy). A canned pear-half is sliced onto the top of each tart before baking. I glazed them with some of Ken's home-made plum jelly after they baked and cooled. These made for a tasty dessert after Easter lunch. And we have leftovers!

Valley view

These are some of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape vineyards in the Rhône Valley seen from up in the town. The river is visible in the background. I don't remember the last time I had a C-d-P wine. I'll have to look for one soon. I do, however, know that I've had the more affordable Côtes du Rhône a few times in recent memory.

The Rhône River at Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Today is Easter Sunday and Ken is making our traditional meal of rabbit. This year, it's a kind of rabbit fricassée, a stew of vegetables, rabbit, and white wine. Yum!

Today is also the start of Summer Time. We turned the clocks ahead this morning (I did it all last night before bed). The days are getting longer and now the evenings will be lighter later.

Châteauneuf-du-Pape

It's a small town (a little more than two thousand people) on the Rhône River just south of Orange. The name translates to English as "the Pope's New Castle." In the fourteenth century, popes moved from Rome to Avignon. Not far from there, a "new" castle was built for Pope John XXII. I though that was the origin of the town's name, but Wikipedia tells me that it had been known as Castro Novo as early as the eleventh century, a castro or castrum being the Latin name for a fortified town. It wasn't until the fourteenth century and the construction of a large castle complex and towering donjon that the du Pape part of the name was added. All that remains of that construction is part of the donjon.

A small street leading up to the center of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Of course, people these days associate Châteauneuf-du-Pape with the wine that's produced from mostly grenache grapes (but can also contain some of thirteen other authorized grape varieties) grown on the low lands that surround the town.

The Salton Sea

When we visited CHM back in 1997, we drove around most of California's Salton Sea. There wasn't much there, but the views across the water were impressive as we made our way north along the eastern shore. I think this might be Mecca, or Mecca Beach, a campground on the eastern side. It's hard to remember.

Shore birds taking a walk on the beach.

Yesterday was a bad weather day. High winds and rain kept us in, although I did make a run to the pharmacy and we were both able to get out with Tasha for relatively dry walks. More rain is predicted over night, but it looks like the wind has calmed some. March is going out like a lion.

Desert fox

I've got more slide scanning to do. Instead of more Provence today, you get the Southern California desert. I believe this was taken in the Joshua Tree National Park in 1997. Look closely and you'll seen Ken with CHM comparing notes on cactus photography. And, what's that? A fox in the foreground? No, it's our dog Collette enjoying some desert freedom.

I'm sure she was supposed to be on a leash. And she was, most of the time.

The weather kind of sucks right now. Wind and rain and cool temperatures. Typical March weather, I guess. And I still haven't finished the taxes. I'm scheduling that for Friday morning.

The ravine

This photo is from last Saturday. Since then, the work crew has done a little more smoothing and several dump truck loads of "clean" dirt have been added to the bottom of the ravine. And that pile of tree branches visible in the lower right corner has been burned.

This ravine/stream bed isn't named. At least I've never heard a name for it.

At the far end of the ravine, another stream bed joins this one and runs off to the right down toward the river. I'm amazed at how deep these ravines are. Some of them, like the one just south of our hamlet, are named. In that case, it's la rouère de l'aulne (the alder ravine). The word rouère is a regional word for "ravine" or "intermittent stream," as far as I can tell (Wiktionnaire).

Great Bertie's ghost!

Or, "I tawt I taw a puddy tat." This fella starting showing up in our back yard a few days ago. When I first caught a glimpse of him, I thought, "Bert!" Obviously, it's not him. But whoever he (or she?) is, he's prowling around in part of Bert's old hunting ground. That first glimpse caught me off guard.

Bert's "ghost" hunting mice in the west forty.

A few months ago (I think), one of our neighbors tried to give us a kitten. She was persistant. I politely, but firmly, refused. It was a cute black kitten, one of several "outdoor" cats that the neighbor was feeding and trying to give away. I'll bet this is that kitty, all grown up now and stalking rodents in the neighborhood. I don't think he's met Tasha yet.

Winding down

The earth works out back are nearly completed. Over the weekend the last of the grape vine trunks they tore out last year went into the ravine and clean dirt was brought in to cover it all over. The big orange backhoe was actually down in the ravine smoothing it all. The ravine is still there, though. It's just a little neater. It'll be interesting to see what's next and if the vineyard parcel will be replanted this spring or next year.

In the foreground are the new vines planted last year.

I'm procrastinating on doing the US taxes. I've got all the documents together. It's simply a matter of entering the numbers on the web tax filing service I use. This week. I promise. Then I can procrastinate on doing the French taxes.

Forsythia

The forsythia around the neighborhood are in full flower right now. This is our big one out back. The little one is not doing as well. I really want to cut this one back some this year, so I'll have to read up on when pruning should be done.

Forsythia in the south forty. The barrel-shaped shrub in the background is a laurier sauce (bay laurel).

Market day was successful yesterday. I got our first bunch of asperges blanches (white asparagus) of the season, a bunch of radis roses (red and white radishes), and a dozen nems (egg rolls) and two rouleaux de printemps (spring rolls) from the Asian guys. I'm looking forward to strawberry season.

Break on through to the other side

Yup, it's the doors again (and windows). Nothing much to say, except that I think I posted a photo of the big door a while back without remembering that it was part of our rental house. I think that the upstairs window (where the shutter is open) is in one of the bedrooms; the ground floor doors on this end of the house were closed to us.

I'd love to see this house today. I wonder how it's changed.

Friday was an exciting day for us. I shampooed the rug in the den and Ken laundered the slip covers on our living room chairs. Spring cleaning has begun. This morning I'm heading over to the market in Saint-Aignan for a few things. Woo-hoo!

Exterior

The gîte we rented in Cavaillon was a big building. Parts of it were closed off, like this, the eastern end of the building. I'm assuming the building was originally a farmhouse, so the doors could lead to storage rooms and such.

What's behind closed doors?

Today's the last day of our warm spell. Starting tomorrow, we'll be back in the single digits for a while. No freezes are predicted. Yet. April can be filled with weather surprises, most notably freezes that kill tender buds on fruit trees and grape vines. We will cross our fingers.

What's going on (?)

I snapped this quick view from the guest room window yesterday afternoon. You can see the orange backhoe lifting grape vine trunks (with a huge rake-looking attachment) from their piles into the yellow dump truck. Look closely. There's a guy standing up on the cab of the yellow dump truck for scale. Each time the truck was filled, that guy drove it over to the ravine (where the acacia trees were removed) and dumped it.

Kickin' up a little dust in the vineyard.

I walked out there with Tasha to take a closer look, but I couldn't really see where the dumping was happening. The backhoe had cleaned out the ravine earlier in the day. I saw no sign of either the grape vine trunks or the acacia stumps in the ground and that really puzzled me. Did they rip all the stumps out of the ground? When did that happen? Where did they go? Where are the grape vine trunks? I'll walk out there again this morning, hopefully before the work starts up again and take a closer look.

Never a dull moment!

La Durance, seen from Cavaillon

The title says it all. The Durance is une rivière as opposed to un fleuve. That is, it is a tributary of another river (in this case, the Rhône) and does not directly empty into a sea or ocean. The Durance is just over 300 km long (about 200 miles) and, toward its western end, skirts the southern flanks of the Luberon range.

The Durance in September. Not a lot of water. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Nothing at all happened with that giant dump truck vehicle yesterday. I just sits out there. I'll keep an eye on it.* Otherwise, the spirit moved me to get out yesterday afternoon and cut grass! I got the south forty almost all cut (except for a small patch around some trees/shrubs). I need to go out and get some gas for further cutting.

*As I type this, another truck just went out into the vineyard. And I notice there's a big 'ol backhoe out there that I didn't see arrive. Stay tuned.

Above Cavaillon

Just west of central Cavaillon, the land rises up in a rocky outcropping. Various trails (and a road) go to the top, providing visitors with sweeping views of the city below and beyond. to the west and south the Durance River makes its way to the Rhône near Avignon.

One of the many routes to Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle passes this way, I believe. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Yesterday morning, a huge tractor-trailer drove up past our house and out into the vineyard. It had been carrying a very big vehicle, sort of like a dump truck, that was now driving behind. The crew left the dump truck thing out by where the first row of trees was recently cut down and drove the tractor-trailer away.Maybe we'll see today what's going on out there.

The car

This is the car we rented for our 2001 Provence trip. It's a Renault Scénic, I believe. It looks pretty much like any car you can see on the road today. I don't remember much about it. I suppose that's a good thing. We rented it in Paris and drove it down to Provence and back.

Today's cars have more pronounced front ends, as is the style. I prefer this style. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Ken and I are more and more convinced that we've identified the house we rented for this trip in the photo I posted yesterday. With the help of Google Maps and our photos, we're pretty certain now. As soon as I figure out how to add an arrow to the photo, I'll post that. Please try to contain your excitement.

I think I can see it

I think the house we rented back in 2001 is in this photo. I can't be certain. We don't have, or can't find, any paperwork with the address on it, but I remember there was a field between the road and the house on the north side (toward the left in the photo), and an even larger patch of vacant land on the south side (toward the right in the photo). Using Google Maps helped me to locate what could be the place.

Standing in central Cavaillon looking east toward the Luberon. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

The small city where I'm standing is Cavaillon. There is a high spot near the center of town with views in all directions and I think that's where this photo was taken from.

Nesque

Remember les gorges de la Nesque? I recently posted a view of a rock formation in the Nesque river valley that we drove through. This is a wider shot from the same viewing area with that rock formation visible in the lower right.

Nesque River Gorge. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... I'm watching the grass grow with trepidation. It's really thick in spots. Big spots. I'm hoping for a dry spell so I can start cutting it. When it doesn't rain, we have heavy dew that takes a while to evaporate. I go through this every year. And every year it works out. Eventually.

Just one (more) look

I think the cherry tree blossoms have passed their peak now, so here's another view taken a few days after the first one. The white blossoms in back are on our neighbor's plum tree.

Cherry and plum trees are early bloomers in spring. Seen from the deck.

Today we're getting haircuts. Ken goes in first, the I go in later. Our new (to us) salon keeper is moving her business across town this month, so she'll be out of commission for a short time.

Le pont Julien

Just north of Bonnieux (Vaucluse) is a Roman bridge, built in the year 3 BCE. According to Wikipedia, the bridge has been in continuous use since. In 2005, however, car traffic was diverted to a new bridge built nearby to reduce wear and tear on the historic monument. Pedestrians and cyclists can still use the old bridge. We visited in 2001, so we were able to drive across. Still, we got out to take photos.

Le pont Julien outside of Bonnieux. Digitized color slide, September 2001.

We're socked in by fog this morning. Predictions are for a warm day (as high as 19ºC depending on which weather service you consult), but recent predictions of similar high temps have fallen short.

Documentation

I'm glad I took the camera out last week for these photos of the taking down of the "first row of trees," as we call it. The trunks got cut at ground level, then the branches were removed, and finally the logs were split (with the help of a big mechanical log splitter) and stacked. Yesterday, a tractor came by with a trailer and, after a few round-trips, the logs are all gone.

Acacia logs stacked on the other side of the stream bed. They've all be taken away now.

In the foreground of this photo, you can see the new vines that were planted last year. At some point, the big vineyard parcel in the background (behind the logs in the photo) will be prepared for new vines. I wonder if it will be this year or next?

Traînées de condensation

These are contrails (short for condensation trails) made by jet aircraft engines. Water vapor in the engine exhaust condenses and freezes at high altitude, producing the thin white lines we see from the ground. From what I read (Wikipedia), the formation of the clouds depends on the altitude of the aircraft and the temperature and humidity of the air through which it flies.

I can often see up to ten aircraft at a time cruising overhead.

We live below a busy north-south air corridor and, depending on the day, I can see many contrails streaking through the sky above us. Airports north of us include Paris, London (and other UK airports), Dublin, Brussels, and Amsterdam. Down south are destinations in Spain and Portugal, the French Mediterranean coast, Italy, and North Africa. And beyond!

Thank you, Mister Wizard. Now for the weather. It's not going to get as warm as was predicted a few days ago. Par for the course. Anything can happen in March.

Late winter sunrise

Spring arrives officially next week. I'm looking forward to warmer temperatures and leaving the daily fire behind for another season. I'm even looking forward to spring cleaning. Sort of. The weather people are predicting a rise in temperatures through the week. Let's hope they're right.

Sunrise over the vines last Thursday.

The vineyards out back are showing signs of spring. Pruning is all but done and the support wires are back in place. The next step for the existing vines is to bend and attach their single remaining canes to the wires. Then there's the matter of the parcel that's being replanted. That could happen this spring, depending on how the clean-up goes.

And let's not forget our own back yard. I've taken all but three of the table grape vines out. They were never very productive and they made mowing around them difficult. The last three will come out soon. The tilleul (linden tree) lost a lot of small branches during winter's wind storms, so they'll have to be cleaned up. And the garden path is a mess with pine cones and sticks and little green plants trying to establish themselves in the gravel. Work to do, got work to do!

The lone-ly walnut tree

A lot of harvesting took place this past winter in the woods and forests around us. Wood harvesting, that is. This walnut tree used to be on the edge of what we called "the first row of trees" that separated two big grape vine parcels out back. The trees, mostly acacia, grew on either side of a stream that drains the vineyards into the river below. Now, there's nothing left but stumps, except for the stacks of cut and split wood waiting to be carted away. And this lonely walnut tree.

Back to front: grape trunk "volcanoes" in a vineyard parcel that will be replanted soon, stacks of cut and split acacia trees, the streambed filled with cut branches, the lonely walnut, and a renewed grapevine parcel planted last year.

I expect, but am in no way certain, that the trees will be allowed to regrow to be harvested again in a few decades. Down by the river, a large parcel of peupliers (poplars) was harvested a while back. New trees have recently been planted to replace them, all geometrically spaced as is typical in France. Someone told us that the demand for wood is increasing in the form of heating fuel, both logs and pellets, and other wood-based products.

Ken's plum tree

The pink/white-blossomed tree back in the northwest corner of the yard is one that Ken grew from a plum pit. I've forgotten how many years ago he sprouted it before planting it out back. The tree has thrived back there but, unfortunately, the plums are small and not particularly good to eat. They're good for making jam or jelly, though.

We had a light frost last Thursday morning when I took this.

You might notice how the grass is growing. It's even taller and thicker in other parts of the yard. I want to cut it, but it's much too wet to try that now. Patience. The first cut of the year is always a chore, but this year looks to be especially challenging, thanks mostly to a very wet winter.