Ducks in a row

A former boss of mine always talked about having his ducks in a row. This shot reminds me of him. It didn't turn out quite like I imagined, but you get the idea. If ever anyone needs to get their urns in a row, here's the model.

Three mallards and sixteen urns. Château de Chenonceau. March 2006.

We had a burst of energy yesterday and did what I'll call some early spring cleaning. It was basically just housework, including dusting, vacuuming, emptying drawers, and eliminating piles of papers and magazines. There is much more ahead of us when spring comes and we can open windows, but it felt good to get a start.

The front door

Did you notice that there are two spellings for Chenonceau? That one refers to the château itself. When it's spelled with a final "x," as in Chenonceaux, it refers to the name of the town where the castle is located. I read in Wikipedia that it was the owner of the castle (Louise Dupin de Franceuil) who, during the French Revolution, decided to drop the "x" to differentiate it as a royal property, as opposed to a property of the new Republic.

Northern façade, Chateau de Chenonceau. March 2006.

The castle's origins date back to the thirteenth century, but the bridge across the river and the galeries above weren't started until the sixteenth century.

Le château de Chenonceau

I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that Chenonceau is one of the "must see" castles in the Loire Valley. According to Wikipedia, it's the most visited private château in France, with about 850,000 visitors each year. In the height of summer, it can feel like they're all there on the same day. I've certainly been to the château a few times, the first being in 1982, but it's been a while since my last visit.

The Château de Chenonceau on the Cher River. March 2006.

This photo is from the end of winter in 2006. The place felt almost deserted. 

Our cold weather has come back. It's just above freezing this morning, and it's expected to get colder through the week. But there's no precipitation in the forecast.

Parting shot

I don't know where I'm going next. I think I've exhausted my collection of Valençay photos. And not a single one was from inside the château.

Rounded domes at Valençay. April 2004.

It looks like our winter weather might be coming back. That is, morning temperatures below freezing. Afternoon temperatures in the single digits. It is still February, after all.

Window

I'm getting my hair cut today. The salon is one of two* store-front businesses in our little village, the other being a bakery and convenience shop. And there's a post office, but I don't count that as a business. I also don't count the wine makers or the contractors. They're businesses of another kind.

A window at Valençay. April 2004.

The reason I mention this is that we learned earlier in the week that the woman who runs the hair salon is closing it down in a few months. She says that she lost a lot of business to the pandemic and it just didn't come back. People have learned to do without coloring or other of the services that made money. Simple haircuts just don't cut it, as it were.

I'm sure I'll get an earful while I'm in the chair this morning. It probably won't be my last cut before she closes, but maybe the next to the last. Ken and I have been going to the same salon for almost twenty years now. The current owner is the second in all of that time. Unless some brave soul decides to buy the business and keep it going, it'll soon be time to look around for a new shop.

Update: I forgot the auto mechanic, just outside the center of town. I knew I'd forget somebody.

Plate-bandes

A strip of garden filled with similar plantings, often acting as a border or separation, is called a plate-bande. It's not really a border in the English garden sense, as I understand it, but I think the two are related.

Plate-bandes at Valençay. April 2004.

I mustered enough strength yesterday to split some wood and build a fire in the wood stove. The heat from the fire felt good all day long, especially since the weather was chilly and damp. We're expecting some real rain this afternoon, so maybe I 'll get it together to build another fire this morning.

Steps

These are the steps we sat on while watching the little play in the courtyard of the Valençay château. 

Steps in black and white. April 2004.

Earlier this morning, Ken found Tasha carrying something strange around the living room. Turns out it was the severed head of a wild rabbit. I'm guessing that Bert caught and killed it and brought the remains into the house during the night. Shortly after Ken's gruesome discovery, I got up and turned the light on in the den. There was the rabbit's headless body on the floor. As soon as the sun comes up I'll dispose of it all (by chucking it into the woods). I'm going to have to start closing Bert in at night again.