More Vouvray

The back of our gîte and the vines of the Château de Moncontour.

Our gîte was on the edge of the small village of Vouvray. To the north and west, vines heavy with chenin blanc grapes stretched up the hills. Below us were stone houses with gardens filled with autumn vegetables and flowers.

A fall garden with leeks and pumpkins.

We had our choice each day : walk among the vines or down into the village. Of course, we more often than not got into the car for a trip to a château or another town in the valley.

The vines of Vouvray.

Each of us had his camera, so there were many stops for that perfect photo. Sue takes prints, I was taking slides at the time, and Ken had already ventured into the realm of digital photography. We found out later that, while we often took pictures of the same thing, each of us saw it just a little bit differently.

Cosmos against a sunny stone wall.

Vouvray 2000

In October 2000, Ken and I and our friend Sue rented a gîte in Vouvray (click here for a picture of it). It was the first time that we would spend an extended vacation in the Loire Valley. Little did we know then that, three years later, we would end up living here, about 35 miles from Vouvray itself.

Sue and Ken pose in Vouvray.

We rented that gîte again in 2001 for another vacation. Since then, it's been sold and is now a private home. We go back to Vouvray often to buy wine - I love sparkling Vouvray - and drive by that place now and again.

Rooftops in Vouvray.

I've started looking back at some old slides for scanning and found these from that trip. I'll post more as I get them digitized.

A shutter in need of a lick of paint, Vouvray.

Photo Du Jour : Fruit

Still life with fruit. Apples, pears, kiwi, grapes. Yum ! How can you not like this ? It's a yummy bunch of goodness, n'est ce pas ?

Last Of The Mohicans

Ok, I know this is not about France. Ken and I watched the movie, "The Last Of The Mohicans," the other night, which was on tv. We had just been to upstate New York last October. I was alarmed to realize, being a native of upstate New York, that I might not have read James Fenimore Cooper's novel.

So, I downloaded it and am in the middle of reading it. What a great book ! In the back of my mind I thought I had read it as a kid, but now I know that I hadn't. But I should have done. The story takes place around where I grew up, and reading it now is a pleasure. It's very different from the movie version with Daniel Day Lewis - even though, in my opinion, the movie was pretty good.

One of several cruise boats on Lake George, the Mohican.

Ken and I went to Lake George in October. It was known by the French as le lac du Saint Sacrement, and was named by Cooper in his novel Horican. We toured Fort William Henry, where Munro was defeated by the French General Montcalm during the French and Indian War.

The southern end of Lake George, le lac du Saint Sacrement, Horican, seen from Fort William Henry.

The following is a quote from Cooper's introduction to his novel, where he explains the name he uses for Lake George.

"There is one point on which we would wish to say a word before closing this preface. Hawkeye calls the Lac du Saint Sacrement, the "Horican." As we believe this to be an appropriation of the name that has its origin with ourselves, the time has arrived, perhaps, when the fact should be frankly admitted. While writing this book, fully a quarter of a century since, it occurred to us that the French name of this lake was too complicated, the American too commonplace, and the Indian too unpronounceable, for either to be used familiarly in a work of fiction. Looking over an ancient map, it was ascertained that a tribe of Indians, called "Les Horicans" by the French, existed in the neighborhood of this beautiful sheet of water. As every word uttered by Natty Bumppo was not to be received as rigid truth, we took the liberty of putting the "Horican" into his mouth, as the substitute for "Lake George." The name has appeared to find favor, and all things considered, it may possibly be quite as well to let it stand, instead of going back to the House of Hanover for the appellation of our finest sheet of water. We relieve our conscience by the confession, at all events leaving it to exercise its authority as it may see fit."

Ken and I drove through Fort Edward (Edward and William Henry being the English princes for whom the forts were named). We had lunch in Glens Falls, the very place that is named for the cataract on the Hudson River where Hawkeye hid his companions from Magua and the Hurons.

Fort William Henry (restored) at the southernmost point of Lake George.

When in Europe, you realize that there is a vast history here. But you forget that there is a history at home, too, even if it is more recent.

What I also realize, and not for the first time, is that the land we call home has another history. It is a history that the colonists and the Americans after them all but erased. It is a long, long history of the movement of people across vast lands. Of the Hurons, the Delawares, the Oneidas and the Mohawks. Of all the people that inhabited the lands before the Europeans came.

The history of America stretches back much, much further than the 15th century. It's a history we would do well to think better of.

Word Of The Week

tramontane

In weather reports, we often hear about the mistral and the tramontane. The mistral we recognize as the wind that blows southward down the Rhône valley toward the Mediterranean Sea. It blows hard and for days on end such that homes in Provence were built with their backs to the wind and windows that open southward. Windows on the north side of these houses are small and few, to keep out the wind.

But what of the tramontane ? It, too, is a wind. It blows southeastward along the foot of the Pyrénées mountains through the Languedoc and the Roussillon regions of France. Both of these winds are the result of cool air being forced through the valleys by high pressure to the north and west, squeezed between mountain ranges, toward a low pressure system over the Mediterranean. In the case of the mistral, it's the Alps on the east and the Massif Central on the west.

The tramontane is pressed between the Massif Central on the northeast and the Pyrénées range on the south. Like water through a narrowing gorge, the wind's course is narrowed such that the air picks up speed and blows hard and steady over the land until it is released to the open space over the sea.

In the image above (click on it for a larger view), A stands for anticyclone, or high pressure, and D stands for dépression, or low pressure (image from www.educnet.education.fr).

These winds normally blow in the summer, but it is not unheard of for them to pick up at any time depending on relative pressure and temperature conditions. Film at eleven.

Kitchen Collection [5]

This is the first and only food processor we've owned. We bought it back in 1987 - twenty years ago. We planned a party, and wanted to make a pâté de légumes (vegetable pâté). The only way to do it was with a food processor. We had resisted having one for many years, but we broke down and got one at Macy*s Union Square in San Francisco. We've never looked back.

The darned thing comes in very handy for many things. Among them, pie crust. There's just no better way to cut butter and flour together, in my humble opinion. It also shreds zucchini, makes purées, grates cheese, chops cranberries, and performs myriad other tasks.

We have, since, replaced the blade and bowl, but we still have the old parts for emergencies. Even in France, with our power transformer, the processor works like a champ. I wonder how much longer we'll have it ?

Spring Will Come

The signs of renewal are beginning to show themselves. Winter is temporary, although far from over. This week, some of our daffodils dared to poke through winter's detritus.


We also have hyacinths and tulips making their way up through the ground. We could certainly see more freezing weather and/or snow in the months ahead. But we can already perceive the lengthening of days, and the buds and sprouts fill us with anticipation.

I pruned the rose bushes this week. There is still a lot to do in the garden, but there is no reason to hurry yet.