stories and lentils

The hillside woodlands are still mostly bare of leaves. Patches of blossom betray the abundance of wild cherry, damson, hawthorns and blackthorns. Along the river the allotments are bursting with pastels; apple, cherry, plum, pear. Pathways are lined with the bright yellow of gorse, buttercups and dandelions. Wild orchids and cowslips grow on the edges of fields.     A dear friend from England visited for a few days and we showed off the slow life and she bore gracefully our sparse and makeshift home. We cycled, wandered and soaked in natural hot springs, warm water that flows miraculously from somewhere inside the earth and springs from a serrendipitous crack in the rocks. We sat on the steps of the hilltop chapel that overlooks the village and watched the view, framed by the stone porch. Butterflies danced in pairs and a kite hovered. The burst of hot sun has accelerated the melt of snow on the mountains and the brightness of the blue sky seems too b...

SUGARED VIOLETS At the moment we are lucky enough to have banks of violets creating seas of purple along footpaths. I've had a childlike delight at finding them and breathing in their scent. It's a perfume that takes me straight to Parma Violet sweets, I cannot quite believe that these delicate little flowers smell so potent. The girls have enthusiastically joined in spotting them, sniffing them like rooting pigs, the way small children do, and then begging to pick them. So we've become Victorian and have learnt how to preserve them by sugaring them, and inevitably it's the sugar bit that is the most inspiring for the children.     We chose some violet flowers in perfect condition and picked about twenty which left enough for the bees and were few enough for them to be real treasures.   Once home they need to be washed very carefully so as not to damage them.   Each flower needs to be coated either in egg white or a cooled ...

Spring has really arrived here. There is not the lushness of green that I am used to, but instead a brilliant blue sky and warm afternoons. Banks are covered in a haze of violets and blossom is spreading amongst the hedgerows. We're out in the garden or spotting wild flowers in the woods and back to paddling in streams again (although the freezing water takes our breathes away).   At the end of last month Little L turned four years old. For the days either side of her Birthday I felt very emotional. Her birth and babyhood suddenly felt so long ago and infront of me is this little girl who surprises me each day with her own ideas and such a force of independence and strong will. On her Birthday the weather shone bright and warm, not something I ever expected for a February babe. We had a little gathering with friends by the lake with coffee and cake and the children played at throwing rocks and sticks into the stream. Then we...

February is cabin fever with small children, craft, bake, craft, one clear day for four grey days, germinating seeds, elderly ladies telling me my children are cold*, armfuls of mimosa branches with bright yellow sprays of flowers sold on the market, days out in the snow, a burn out of meal ideas, a toilet that now flushes, piles of washing up, not done, the sound of rain drumming on the roof and anticipation for a four year old's Birthday. Our small living space is cluttered. No amount of decluttering seems to make an impact. There are piles of washing amid train sets to trip over and trays of seeds balanced on the window sill, Little I stood on the table plucking out seedlings one by one and tape measures and head torches and a step ladder... Our solution is still to escape and ignore the mess. So we bundle outside and have been heading to the lake for some hair raising balance biking along the shore. At the head of the lake where there was an empty river bed all summer...

Snow was forecast for the beginning of the month but it didn't fall here in the village. We tried to head to one of the nearest places to ski for some snow shoeing but roads weren't accessible without snow tyres or chains. I'd naively imagined that the roads toward a ski resort would be gritted but apparently that doesn't always happen. We were so painfully aware of how we are definitely still tourists, as we chugged along an icey road, gratefully following the municipal snow plough. The bus got us far enough to play in some snow which made the girls very happy until they were very unhappy! Despite my best efforts to layer them up so much that I thought it impossible to get cold I think the freezing gusts of wind penetrated the gloves and their hands got them before they had chance to sledge. The drive was incredibly beautiful. The Plateau de Sault, as it's name suggests, is a large flat expanse, quite bare and surrounded by hills and mountains. There was a strong...