15 September 2017

Modern-day hermits

A week or two ago, Susan and Simon mentioned the village of Villeloin-Coulangé on their blog, Days on the Claise, and it reminded me that I visited an old monastery near there more than 10 years ago, once with Walt and a friend of ours from California, and again with my friend CHM. It's less than 30 minutes southeast of Saint-Aignan.

Looking back through this blog, I found a mention of the monastery (called a "priory" or "hermitage") but very few photos. Then I read this 2012 article published in our regional newspaper, La Nouvelle République, and decided to translate (or adapt) and post it here, with some photos. I hope that the photos will give you an idea of what the place looks like, and that the translated text will give you the flavor of a French newspaper article.

A hermitage in a tranquil valley



Hidden from view in a quiet valley in central France, not far from Loches, Montrésor, and Saint-Aignan, the priory of Grandmont-Villiers is home to three hermit monks who've lived there for more than 30 years. It is a place where time stands still.




A fire crackles in the monumental fireplace, a silent witness to so many stories. On a stone wall, three feet thick, is a colorful representation of Christ. This is the ancient kitchen of the priory of Grandmont-Villiers, in Villeloin-Coulangé. Father Philippe-Étienne welcomes his visitors and invites them to sit down at a big dining-room table. 




First, he wants to talk — to probe the soul of this stranger who wants to shine the harsh light of the surrounding world on his monastery. Nestled in a peaceful valley, at the end of a narrow paved lane that becomes a simple dirt road, the building is hidden by trees and hedges and reveals itself only after the visitor enters its walled courtyard.





“We do not
play at
being

hermits.
We are
hermits.”




Father Philippe-Étienne begins the conversation. His love of history and, of course, religion doesn't prevent him from being well-versed in contemporary political life and its hypocrisies. He speaks, often with half-closed eyes, as if he is starting to understand the world view of his visitor more clearly.



At 65, this man has lived several lives, working for ten years in industry before embracing the contemplative and laborious existence of the hermit. 




He says that he in fact lives in only "relative solitude" because he shares the hermitage, which he heads, with two other monks, and also because the priory is open to tourists and other visitors. "We enjoy greater solitude before the hunting season begins and after it closes," he adds, with a wry smile.



Father Philippe-Étienne donned the monastic robe for the first time in 1979. With the help of troops of boy scouts, he renovated the priory. Over time, all the roofs have been repaired. He spent his first few years here alone. 




Then, in 1983, two other monks joined him. "We do not play at being hermits. We are hermits," he tells me. What are their days like? "We pray... seven times a day," he says, mentally counting the number of daily services they attend. "And we work. "



The priory sits on 15 acres of land, of which 10 acres are given over to agriculture. Two cows graze on the property, even though the monks no longer produce dairy products. Inside the building, not all parts of which are habitable, there remain four monk's "cells."




This allows the monks to welcome — once in a while and for just a few days at a time — a guest who's in need of a spiritual retreat. "We see life through sadness. People come to us when they have problems." Does that make these men feel pessimistic? "No, just realistic," Father Philippe-Étienne says. •

14 September 2017

Relief, and a status report

First of all, let me say that I'm so glad and relieved that my old friend from California who now lives in Naples (Florida) posted on Facebook last night. I just saw her message saying she's fine. She didn't get flooded out by Hurricane Irma, and she has only minor wind damage to repair. The storm blew down a big oak tree in her yard, but it didn't fall on her house.


Finishing up with the peach saga, above is a photo of the compote that I made day before yestarday and put in plastic containers for storage. Walt and I have both eaten some, in yogurt and on toast, and it's delicious. I think one container will go into the freezer for later.


Following up with tomato progress, look at all these that were sitting out on the table on the terrace yesterday morning. The chairs are propped up like that because we were having strong gusts and wind-driven rain and we didn't want the chair seats to fill up with water. It's still raining this morning, by the way, but it's not so windy.


Walt made those tomatoes on the table into sauce yesterday. I'm not sure whether we will turn that sauce into paste, the way we did with the last batch of red tomatoes (above), or keep it as sauce. Either way, we'll enjoy it this fall and winter.


To wrap up, the grape harvest is in full swing. Many of the grapes have now been taken in. The harvester and tractor in this photo worked to bring in a couple of parcels of Sauvignon Blanc fruit yesterday. I saw the tractor and trailer go by the house a minute or two after taking this picture, and the trailer was nearly overflowing with white grapes.

13 September 2017

Peeled, pitted, and peachy keen



Peeling those little peaches that I posted about yesterday turned out not to be a difficult task at all. I blanched them for a minute or less in boiling water in a wok. Then I plunged them into cold water. When they were cooled off, the skins just slid right off.





Peaches
poaching



Peeled
peaches


Peach
peelings


In fact it was so easy that I quickly went back outside and picked up another two or three pounds of peaches that had fallen to the ground under that same tree. In all, I ended up with nearly five pounds (2.25 kg) of them.



Peach
pits



The harder part of the job was cutting each peach all the way around so that I could pull them apart and remove the pits. The peaches were so slippery that if I wasn't careful or lucky, they would squirt right out of my hands and fly across the room!

I took as many peach halves as would fit on a tray, arranged them as you see, and set the tray in the freezer. Now I need to go put the frozen pitted peach pieces in a plastic bag for storage. They'll make good tarts or pies. With the rest of the peeled and pitted peaches I prepared compote.

12 September 2017

La vie continue

Not much to blog about here. I'm watching storm reports on CNN, storm videos on YouTube, and weather maps and radar on Accuweather. I'm especially hoping to get good news from my friend who lives in Naples and decided to ride out the storm in her house with her two four-legged friends.


We just continue processing and eating tomatoes. Yesterday was a nice tomato salad with feta cheese and basil. And here is a photo of the latest batch of tomato paste we've made. Walt made sauce with red tomatoes, milled it, and then cooked it down in the oven to turn it into paste. Today we have to get that paste into sterilized jars, seal them, label them, and store them in the cellar for the winter. Life goes on.


Life is not a bowl of peaches for everybody right now, but around here some of the peach trees are full of them. I picked these off a tree, and up off the ground underneath it, over on the edge of the woods across the street. Nobody else is picking them. I picked them, and now I have to peel them and decide how to preserve them.