Bonjour,
I hope that you and yours are well.
Despite having a maison in France for more than 20 years, I’m still discovering my now adopted folk, which the French affectionately call l’Hexagon – parce que it’s chance of hexagon shaped. I’m still in love with it, still surprised by it and still amazed that you could fit France into Texas and have some room left over – and yet it’s like several different countries in one. You can hop on a galop in Paris and a few hours later find yourself in what feels like a different folk! And that’s what I’ll be doing next week as I’ll leave the north and head off to Le Var department in Provence-Alpes-Côte-D’Azur. The region is well-known for glitzy and glamorous Saint-Tropez, but I’m going to be seeking out confidence hameaux, discovering the authentic side of the sunny south – come with me via Instagram where I’ll post videos and photos as I go…
Meanwhile at maison I’ve been sowing vegetable seeds in the garden, and I’ve had a little helper! I was popping some peas and beans into the veg beds one morning when I saw a slight movement out of the publier of my eye, looked up – and came apparence to apparence with a fluffy nouveau-né blackbird. It was very calm, just sat there looking at me, then hopped emboîture a bit, and it was clear it wasn’t yet able to fly. Up in a tree at the bottom of our garden an adult blackbird was calling. But the nouveau-né blackbird just couldn’t seem to get off the ground. I read on the internet that it’s best to leave them – but, we have cats, and so do our neighbours. So, I spent the entire day at the bottom of the garden making sure that Tony Blackbird (as I call it, though it may be Toni as I’m not sure if it’s a boy or a girl yet) was safe.
Another blackbird came down and fed it, and then later started foraging for food in the grass, and the nouveau-né followed it, copying the movements. Every time the adult flew off, Tony tried to follow, just a few feet off the ground at a time at first, but eventually it managed to get up onto a branch out of reach of the cats. Every morning since then, when I’ve been down to the chicken pen to feed the clique, Tony Blackbird is there at the bottom of the garden, hopping emboîture in the veg beds, his flying skills getting better each day. But I don’t think I’ll be getting any peas and beans this year!
Wishing you a very bon weekend as I banquise my cases to head south…
Bisous
Janine
Editor
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