Timber!

For several days last week, the weather reports said we were having our last warm days of the year. The weather, they said, would turn rainy and chilly on Sunday. Then Sunday came, and it was still dry and almost hot. I think the rains passed to the north, falling not on northern France but on England. Typical, no? (We did get 3 mm of rain — 0.12 inches. On appelle ça du pipi de chat.)

Yesterday was again warm, and then it got windy in the afternoon. The wind was warm and dry, and it didn't really seem all that strong. It was just a little gusty and breezy. I was upstairs watching TV after lunch, and Walt was downstairs sitting out on the front terrace.

Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound. And then another. What was that? I called down to Walt. He had of course heard it too. I think a tree fell, he yelled back up the stairs. He said he'd go out and see if that was what had happened. When he came back, he told me about it and said I should go see it when I took Tasha out for our afternoon walk.

So there it is. A very big tree just broke off and crashed to the ground out on the edge of the vineyard parcel closest to our house. Maybe trees are fragile because of our long dry spell. It's amazing that it didn't really fall on anything. The top of the tree missed the closest row of vines by about 10 feet. This happened just a few dozen steps from our house.

It's hard to take photos of the wind, but you can sort of see it in the ones just above and below. Well, you can see its effects. How many more of these trees might just come crashing down one day?

I've seen trees being uprooted, but that was when winds were at hurricane force, back in North Carolina. I've seen trees uprooted here in Saint-Aignan by hurricane-force winds— we lost two plum trees in a storm in 2010, and several big trees fell out around the edges of the vineyard. And I've heard of trees just coming down for no obvious reason. That's what seems to have happened here yesterday.

Polenta pour la première fois

I remember the first time I ever ate polenta. It was in 1975 and I was living in Paris. An American woman that I knew from the university where I had been a student in North Carolina was also living in Paris then. She had a French friend named Jean-Louis.

Linda was living in a tiny fourth-floor walk-up apartment in the 9e arrondissement just off the rue des Martyrs, up behind the église Notre-Dame de Laurette. I think she had invited me and Jean-Louis over for lunch. I was living out in Asnières-sur-Seine that year.

Jean-Louis (I can't remember his last name, but I think it sounded Italian) said he was going to make polenta for lunch. I asked him what that was. I had never heard of it before. He said it was something he learned to cook in Provence, where he had family. It was more or less Italian, but also southern French.

When he cooked the polenta, I realized it was a form of grits, a southern U.S. food staple. Only it was yellow, not white. And J-L was cooking it with sausages and tomato sauce as an accompaniment. In the North Carolina, we ate grits only at breakfast, with butter, salt, and sometimes some grated cheese stirred in to melt, for flavor.

I was happy to find out I could get grits in France. And of course good sausages cooked in tomato sauce was something anybody would like. J-L cooked the polenta in a pot on the stove, poured it into a baking pan, and laid cooked sausages over the top. The polenta was thick, not runny. Then he poured tomato sauce over the top and popped the dish into the oven to heat through and brown.

I loved the taste and the simplicity of it. I thought of it a few days ago, because we had polenta, fresh tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and plenty of tomato sauce, as well as some little veal meatballs that I had stored in the freezer. We'd been eating rice, potatoes, and pasta for a few days, so polenta would be a nice change. I browned the meatballs with sliced onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes, and then poured tomato sauce over all that and let it finish cooking. The sauce would be spread over the cooked polenta and the dish then browned in the oven. (You could make it without meat...)

I cooked the polenta (1 part polenta and 3 parts water), with some grated cheese stirred in, for five minutes in the microwave. Then we enjoyed the gratin with parmesan cheese grated over it at the table, and a drizzle of olive oil. On the internet, I see recipes for something similar called polenta con salciccia. Bon appétit ! And thanks to CHM for the frying pan and the baking dish.

Sunday's finest

It's Sunday and it's my morning to go out for a walk with Natasha. These Sundays in October are difficult, because hunters arrive in the vineyard at 9 a.m. and start shooting at game birds or hares. The sun doesn't come up until 8:12 a.m. today, and if it's cloudy outside it doesn't really get light until 8:30 or so. So timing the walk is tricky.

Here are some recent photos of Tasha. I took them on a sunny afternoon four or five days ago. As you can see, she keeps her nose to the ground when we go out into the vineyard.

Walt will take Tasha to the groomer's (le salon de toilettage) on Tuesday for her semi-annual brushing-out. The dog's coat looks pretty good right now but, even so, there's just too much of it. She doesn't really enjoy getting brushed, so we don't do it as much as we ought to.

We went to our late neighbor Daniel's burial (enterrement) yesterday morning. It was well-attended; I'd say there were 40 or 50 people there. There was no service at the church, just as his wife's funeral was a simple burial ceremony at the cemetery in 2015. We learned that Daniel had lung cancer but didn't know it. He wasn't somebody who went to see a doctor on a regular basis. He had some kind of malaise a week ago today and his daughter had him hospitalized. That's when the cancer was diagnosed. He passed away 48 hours later.

Daniel's daughter plans to sell her parents' house, I understand. And the other house in our hamlet that is for sale is already under contract. The new owners are supposed to close on it at the end of the month. I don't know who they are, or if they plan to live in the house or rent it out as a gîte rural — a holiday rental, as the British say. It will need some renovating, I'm sure.

And I learned something else yesterday. The people who are selling the little house had the equivalent of a "garage sale" or "estate sale." Maybe it will continue today. It's the first time in all these years of living and traveling in France that I've ever seen that kind of sale. I thought they weren't allowed, but it turns out they are if the organizers get the permission of the mayor and follow rules that specify that only used items may be sold, and the sale can only last for a specified number of days. It's called a vide-maison or a vide-grenier à domicile. Those terms mean "empty out the house" or "empty out the attic" to clear out. I don't know where it was advertised, but there were quite a few cars up and down the road during the day yesterday.

Préparatifs pour l'hiver et la saison des pluies

We've been getting a lot of work done around the yard and garden. Finding I now have the energy and inclination to prepare our property for winter makes me realize how lethargic I was over the long hot summer we lived through this year. I felt lousy, and a lot of it was because of the seemingly endless stretch of hot days and nights we had to endure. Sitting still was easy during that time, but sleeping well was difficult, and doing physical work outside was no fun at all.

So many plants out there needed trimming. Tall, tough grasses were growing up along the gravel path that runs through the middle of the yard, as well as up into the wire fencing we had put up back in 2004 to keep the dog in and the deer and hares out. The four patches of irises we have around the yard had brown, sunburned leaves and were full of weeds. I've cut a lot of that stuff down.

Walt mowed the lawn, mostly to take down the spiky, deep-rooted weeds that had grown up. The grass itself, or what passes for grass in our prairie-like yard, hadn't grown much because of the drought. I continued clipping branches off the overgrown rosemary bush that we wanted to save, and we cut the unwanted rosemary plant off at ground level. I think both of them will come back quickly once the rains return.

The biggest task was getting the plants pulled out of the garden, including 30 tomato plants, a lot of bush and pole beans, and a few out-of-control zucchini and winter squash (potimarron) plants. Walt did most of that. I still haven't tilled up the vegetable garden plot, but I'll try to get that done this coming week. I'm sure our clay and limestone soil is like concrete — we desperately need more rain, and we may get some tomorrow. It hope it's not too much, because it's hard to work in mud with the rototiller.

The new back gate is a big improvement. Not only is the metal gate much sturdier and better-looking than the old falling-down wooden gate was, but it is also more securely attached to the concrete gate posts than the rickety old gate was. Now we're just waiting for a local gardening service to set a date for this year's trimming of the tall, wide laurel hedge that wraps around three sides of our yard. It's more than 100 meters (375 ft.) long and 8 or 9 feet high in places.