French village immersion

We've been back in France again for the past nine days, immersing ourselves in the Crumbly Cottage, Mark II and our village here. It really is an extraordinarily lovely area, with the wooded hills of the Marne valley beckoning us everywhere we look. My favourite place is undoubtedly down at the canal side where I take Zoe for walks every day. The Canal de la Marne à la Saône, now known as the Canal entre (between) Champagne et Bourgogne (Burgundy) is not a major route and rarely used by commercial barges, but I keep hoping I'll see a boat or barge on the move. So far, I've been out of luck, but the season's still young and the utter peace of the towpath is such a joy. All I can hear is birdsong, especially the skylarks that trill and whistle high above me.

We've been spending most of our time trying to pull the little house and garden back from the decrepitude it had fallen into, but in the meantime, there've been so many other things to note about our village in the Marne valley. 

The first is obviously the people. Everyone here is genuinely friendly and I, for my part, have the best ambassador in the world: Zoe. Of course, it will take time to get to know the village residents well given that we're only here for short spells, but so far, it seems almost everyone knows who we are and where we're from. One lady greeted me from her garden as I was walking past with Zoe one morning, and then rushed to her front door to come out and talk to me. We had a nice chat in so far as I'm able to chat to anyone. I do a lot of nodding and smiling and asking questions, the answers to which I don't follow so well because of the rapid fire delivery, but it's all welcoming and kind. Others have also chatted as I've passed and everyone, without exception, has been sweet to Zoe. Who needs introductions when you have an adorable spaniel? 

My French is undeniably limited, but I pick up enough of what they say to prompt follow ups, which is all I need to do. They rattle on and as long as I show interest with intermittent nods, smiles and 'mais oui's' (or 'non's'), the interaction is perfect. Voilà, conversational French in a nutshell. 

What else? Well, the flowers and blossom here in the Haute-Marne are glorious. Never have I seen such towering horse chestnut trees in flower. Then there's the wisteria and rhododendrons with their cascades of vivid colours. Not only that, but the greens of the trees that cloak the hillsides are stunning. They're rich, varied and positively opulent, ending as they do in valleys of velvet smooth grassland that feeds the fat, sleek, creamy cattle.

In the village itself, boxes of geraniums have suddenly appeared on windowsills and the scent of freshly mown grass lingers on the air. The villagers are busy with their gardens and the humming sound of active lawnmowers is an almost constant drone, along with that of tractors tilling the fields and the bellow of hungry cows waiting to be fed or milked. Wonderful country sounds that underscore the tranquillity.

Other details I've noticed are odd features like the uniformity of the postboxes and house numbers in the commune. In our Dutch village,  there is little attention paid to conformity and most people choose their own letterbox and number, but here, they seem to be all the same. The number on our house is on a small tile with a neat border, which is replicated on pretty much every other house number in the village. Likewise, the letterboxes are almost all standard, made from yellowish steel with a door front and back. The only noticeable differences are in the way they're mounted, which can be quite creative. I've seen some mounted on standard shelf brackets; others on steel plates supported by interesting curved shapes that are clearly hand made. Then some are set into walls while others are attached to them. Regardless of the position, though, the boxes are all the same.

Then, there are the cats. Almost as if designed to send Zoe wild, there are cats everywhere. Some belong to households, some don't, but every time we go out, we see cats dashing across our path. Zoe's relationship with our feline friends is, as they say on Facebook, complicated. She adores them indoors and will sit gazing lovingly at a cat for hours, but outside, they must be chased. As a result, she's on high alert here and begins every walk with a challenging strut as if to say, "Right, you feral felines. I'm here and ready, so watch out!" I have to be extremely careful to keep the gate shut, because if she saw a cat, she'd be after it in a flash. And our little house is right next to a busy railway line. That doesn't bear thinking of, does it?

We've now come to the end of our stay here and we'll be heading back to Zeeland tomorrow morning, which is fine as I love it there too and we have our own wonderful neighbours as well as the boats. But I'll miss the quiet canal, the birds and the utter peace of the village in the mornings. Below are a few photos of the scenery and also of what we've mostly been doing.

The endless trek with my new wheelbarrow
to dispose of the results of the our hedge
 clearing project

Eureka! I found the septic tank
buried by years of undergrowth.

Clearing gutters choked with ivy. Being the small one on the team, I was
the obvious candidate for climbing out onto the roof.

Sentinals of canal. The magnificent horse chestnuts

I've always liked rusty remains in land being reclaimed

Approaching a lock. One of Zoe's favourite walks is to go from one 
lock to the next and back

Beautiful sweeping field

Good mooning!

The view is lovely whichever way we look