The busy time

Everything is suddenly so busy that I don't feel like I have the time to blog. We are working madly to get the kitchen finished as soon as possible. Then on Wednesday our friend Cheryl arrives from California.

Next Saturday, we pack up the car, which will include putting the dog on the back seat, and drive the four hours down to the Ile d'Oléron, on the coast between La Rochelle and Bordeaux. We've rented a gîte (a small house) for a week's stay there.

Saint-Aignan is on the upper right-hand corner of this
map, and the Ile d'Oléron is in the red box on the coast.

We plan to walk on the beach with the dog, eat seafood, and watch birds. It'll be a great week, but with no Internet connection in the house.

Enlarge the map

Here's a closer-in view of the Ile d'Oléron.

It's time to get back to the painting. And there's a garden to be put in too, somewhere during all this time. Don't be surprised if you don't see a post here every day for a while. And then you'll surely see lots of pictures from the Ile d'Oléron and La Rochelle in late May and June.

Demolition done; on to reconstruction

Okay, the hard part is done. Yesterday morning I finished sanding the ceiling and walls of the kitchen. I've got my fingers crossed that the ceiling won't look too patched up once we put a couple of coats of paint on it. And if it does... well, tough. We can re-do it next year.

Patching things up on 08 May 2008

I never thought I would be doing this kind of work at this age. I was an academic, and then white-collar for years, and then collarless for many more, because we often just wore T-shirts and jeans when I worked in Silicon Valley. And now, in retirement, I find myself doing more physical labor than ever before, renovating the house and tilling the garden. Toting bales. Waving a feather duster around. Maybe it will keep me young.

You empty the cabinets and before can say
Jack Sprat! they fill up again.

This is the life we chose when we moved to Saint-Aignan and stopped "working for the man." Freedom has its price, I guess, in blood, sweat, and tears. And plaster dust. Mud under your fingernails. Insect bites. Fortunately, work expands to fill the time available. So we're never bored and never really all that busy.

A word about the weather

And I guess that word would have to be: fantastic! I've been in shorts and T-shirts since Sunday, and it's very comfortable. Not only is the daytime warm, but it stays light now until after 10 p.m. and evenings out on the terrace are very pleasant too.

After I mentioned seeing flower buds on the grapevines
a few days ago, I had to go look up the subject and make sure I hadn't said something silly.
I hadn't — grapevines do flower, but very discreetly.

After all the whining I've done about rainy, chilly weather for the past year, I thought I'd better say something about the great summery weather we are having now.

Yesterday I was down in Saint-Aignan, and out on the street I ran into a woman who works at the pharmacy. We nearly bumped into each other, so I smiled and said Bonjour Madame. « Oh, vous voilà de retour », she said. "You're back" — I'm not sure where she thought I had been. In America, I guess.

The last of our apple trees is now in flower.
The others had blossoms in April.

Walt says he thinks people have a hard time believing we live here full-time. And I think Walt is the one who has gone to the pharmacy for the last few months, not me. But I haven't been traveling anywhere, of course.

I just played along. « Et vous nous avez amené le beau temps ! », the pharmacy lady said. « Nous avons eu un mois d'avril POURRI. » You brought nice weather back with you, she said. We had a ROTTEN month of April. "That's what I've heard," I told her. Little did she realize how I had lived through it and how much I complained about it.

A neighbor has a huge clematis vine
that is in full flower right now.

So I'm not complaining about the weather any more. But I told Walt I would do some serious sanding in the kitchen this morning, and I'm going to complain about that. He sanded two or three walls and a good part of the ceiling yesterday while I was out running errands in town.

After I do the sanding, all we have to do is wash everything down one more time and then we can start painting. Of course, everything in the whole house is coated with a layer of fine white plaster dust now. And we have our friend Cheryl arriving next Wednesday. I hope she knows how to use a feather duster.

And as I mentioned, Scotch broom is blooming
all around the vineyard.

Goat cheese from Romo

I was thinking about posting some pictures of the work we're doing to refurbish the kitchen, but then Walt told me yesterday afternoon that that was his plan too. I'll wait to see his post before I do one. What's taking so long is scraping and patching the walls. The plaster has to dry between coats. Today we will move on to the sanding phase.

Meanwhile, when Roselyne came to deliver bread yesterday morning, she was driving a big silver-colored Renault Espace van instead of her normal LWV — Little White Van (which is the standard vehicle for working people around here). We almost didn't recognize her.

To get our daily baguette, Roselyne had to get out of the car and go open the back hatch. The Renault Espace is so big that she couldn't just reach back and grab a baguette the way she can in her regular vehicle.

Madame Corbeau's goat cheeses,
in the style of Selles-sur-Cher

As I looked into the back of the van, I noticed three or four nice-looking goat cheeses sitting on a tray alongside the many loaves of bread. The label was shiny and blue and it caught my eye.

Where does the goat cheese come from? I asked. Romo, Roselyne said. It looked so good. « Je vais en prendre un », I told her. I want one — how much are they? €2,90 was the price. I had to run back into the house to get some more money.

The cheese under the gray rind
is perfectly white, smooth, and firm

This goat cheese is very much like the cheese my neighbors make at their farm up beyond the vineyard. It's a little disk with a grayish-black rind and a smooth, perfectly white interior. Local people call it « un bleu » — but it's not at all a blue cheese like Roquefort or Bleu d'Auverge; it just has a bluish rind.

That rind is the result of a mixture of wood ash and salt that the cheese is coated with for the ripening process. The ash and salt give the cheese extra flavor. You are supposed to eat it, not scrape or cut it off and throw in away.

Here's a clearer shot of the label

This cheese selected by Mme Pierre Corbeau in Romorantin is made in the style of Selles-sur-Cher, which is an A.O.C. If you've never tried goat cheese, this is the one to start with. It doesn't have a mushy texture or a strong goaty flavor. The flavor is distinct but mild, and the texture is firm and almost chalky (but not quite). It's great with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc wine from the Loire Valley (Sancerre, Menetou-Salon, Quincy, Reuilly, or Touraine).