I’m under house arrest so I can’t go out and play. It’s deadline day for my big screen research project is this weekend, so I have very little to report.

The one thing I did manage today (apart from bringing five loads of firewood in) was to dig up some parsnips.  There is a big Siberian storm predicted to arrive in Europe this weekend. And I hate the thought of not being able to get my veg out without breaking my fork.

I also cut a huge armful of Tuscan kale, then went down to the lower vegetable bed to cut equal amounts of swiss chard, rocket and curly kale. And on the way up to the hosue I grabbed rosemary, thyme and sage..

That ought to keep things ticking over in the kitchen for a few days.

The parsnips are hilariously large. Probably woody as can be; so they will be pureed. Or souped. But some of the little ones are going to be perfect for roasting.  It’s a good thing I went to the butchers and stocked up yesterday.  If it’s snowing and stormy, I won’t want to head out.

And guess who managed to sneak into the house while I was bringing in the firewood?  He tried sitting on my lap; but there’s a lap top computer there already. So he pushed me aside and has perched himself right on the edge of the sofa, right next to the roaring fire.  Who said cats are dumb?

Oh this is heavenly. I know I’m not meant to gush endlessly… but I’m having a great day.  A full on gardening day.

It’s mild and still and every time I look up I get views of valleys and hills and village.  St Michel in the distance. The horse at my pocket.  I decided to start off by doing what all plants need most.  Compost.  So down to the lower terraces (with plenty of apples in my pockets so I don’t get run over by a frisky stallion) and out with the disposable gloves and a bucket.  I’m simultaneously collecting fresh stuff and hauling out the year old gold.

Ulysse is the perfect horse as he tends to poop in the same spot. Bless.  Makes life much easier, I can tell you.

I have used most of the first two wheelbarrows worth (don’t worry, it’s light and not a strain on the back, despite having to wheel it 300 metres on an uphill slope) on the hedge up at the potting shed.

This hedge gets more attention than just about any area in the garden (apart from the two large vegetable beds).  And I wouldn’t lavish except that it’s in the interests of neighbourly relations.  My potting shed is an eyesore, especially in winter.  And if I can get these little hedges growing away life will be happier all round.  There are now 27 small shrubs on the top side near the road, and 21 on the down side.

I’ve just put in five more rose rugosa plants.  Manure galore, mulching, weeding, even the dread bonemeal which I rarely use.  My soil is exceptionally free draining and thin.  And I’m going to need a tractor load of manure to get these beasts growing well.  But the bit I have done is fine and I’m happy.

Next up will be the last of the box balls to complete the little display in the bed under the wisteria.  I struggled for years to try and grow anything under this thick white wisteria.  Deeply shaded in summer, east facing, and dry as can be.

So I gave in and planted box balls and mulched with home shredded sticks. But I was four short.  Artur is modelling himself in the area right now. But you can see the four paler green plants at the back.  Softies. They are grown at the huge plant nursery down on the Rhone river.  They will have to toughen up.

Planting them wasn’t easy. I had to dodge around the tulips that are already here, and dig out some mighty stones. And then they had to be exactly straight. And I’m talking straight both ways – these plants are going to take years to knit together. If at all.

Next up was a quick planting of the three phlomis purpurea in the shade garden.  This was a mad purchase at the nursery; but the flowers and the form are great. In fact the only reason it was a mad purchase is I’m trying so hard to take cuttings from my existing single plant. So call me greedy. And impatient. And the flowers are divine. Fleeting but exquisite.

I did another zip down to the manure heap which I can happily say is now empty. Minus the fresh stuff I just added.  And then had to decide what to do: clean the potting shed, pester Artur who had taken up residence in the potting shed again? Or start weeding.

I did neither. I kept planting.  The euphorbias in the potting shed – collected from all parts of the garden as they self sow so brilliantly – were getting thirsty.  So I decided to put them in a tidy little heap outside the potting shed in among festuca plants.

And I was musing about this fantastic lull.  I can dig the soil, plant like mad and not have to fret about weeds.  But boy do I need to mulch and save these newly planted treasures from the invading unwanted weeds.  I’m going to start fantasizing about trailer loads of mulch again. I just can’t make it fast enough. And I’m going to be haunting roadside municipal workers this spring.  Where do they take all their chippings?  I must ask the mayor on Friday night at the village meeting.  I could easily use a few tonnes.

And on that note it’s back in to feed the fire and start my indoor work.

In this case it’s an elderly feline; and I used to think it was my potting shed. But Artur disagrees. He has taken to playing the role of gatekeeper; guarding the entrance from any invaders. You can just see him on top of the water butt on the right.

And he rates me as a baddie. I’m disturbing his blissful and very peaceful life. I demand pats and purrs and brief lap sitting when I want to have a cup of tea sitting on my chaise longue.

So to thwart me, he yowls. And steals my chair, and wont permit much affection.

But I shall wear the little beastie out. It is my shed and he is my part time cat.  Believe me, horses are much simpler.

But I did manage to get in the shed long enough to unpack my huge order of asparagus. I ordered them from Blackmoors, and have brought them out wrapped up in newspaper and hidden from the light. There are enough crowns to plant 15 metres of asparagus up at Jean Daniel’s unused potager . It’s a gift to him for all his kind help with me in the garden last year.

He doesn’t know that yet. I only saw him briefly this morning and I forgot to mention it. He was more keen on telling me all about the village meeting that’s taking place on Friday night. Attendance compulsory as we have to sort out what to do with our public square.

But back to the asparagus; it needs to be stored in damp compost and hidden in the dark until the soil warms up a bit outdoors.  I could do a bit of preparation – I can see that he has strimmed the worst of the weeds. So we can discuss it on Friday.

First day chores? Well it’s always hard to settle to any one task.  And it is disconcerting to have your every move in the garden watched by the beady eyes of the cat and the distant ones of the horses. The oldest stallion is in the paddock behind my potting shed, and Ulysse is on the lower terraces.

So I did some grocery shopping in town, drove to Vachon to get the last of my four box balls; plus some phlomis and rosa rugosa plants. I had wanted to by my 50 thyme balls. But I was thwarted.  Vachon may be a plant nursery that stretches for acres and acres of land, all filled with hundreds and hundreds of varities of plants. But the thyme were tiny. And far from adequate for the job I have in mind.

So, pouting slightly, I just covered the entire 30 feet in mulch.

I had to weed it first. But it’s a joy to work on this bed as it’s situated at waist height; being the top of wall below the house.

And there weren’t that many weeds.  There should have been none of course; it is the middle of winter.  But the weather has been so wild, that things insist on growing.

I don’t have a lot of flowers of course. But what I do have are bulbs. And they are perfuming my living room as I type.  I planted up hundreds of narcissus paper whites in pots before I left. And they are out and causing quite a stir. Daniele is delighted with her pots which she has had in succession since December.  And Katherine, if you lived a teensy bit closer, I’d love to give you a pot too. Instant happiness.

Happy new year.  Well, I missed the calender one, but I’ve just squeaked into Chinese New Year. It’s so, so wonderful to be back. I have been away for a shameful seven weeks.

Driving up to the house this afternoon I was looking carefully for any damage or dramas but everything is just wintry and still. It doesn’t look like we’ve had any major storms or bad weather. In fact it’s all just fantastically normal. Weeds of course. The weather has been too mild to slow things down completely, but it still is a wintry garden.

And within ten minutes of my arrival I had my own Chinese Year of the Dragon demonstration by a very plump and vocal Artur. He howled and yowled and stalked about. And I am delighted to see him.

The horses are at hand as well. I have given two apples to a very greying Ulysse – he whinneyed excitedly, but it was all cupboard love. Jean Daniel has put him on the lower terraces as there is very little feed. And he chased me all the way down to the lowest path where I collected our infra red trail camera.

All his Arab horses go white eventually, and this four year old is taking on the hues of the rest quite quickly.  I must take care to feed him apples every day. I need his manure.

The potting shed is a haven of warmth. A bit too warm for some of the plants. But I have some germinating gaura seedlings which is fun. And once I watered all the rest I even have a thriving little garden colony in there. I had no time to really inspect things. I wanted to do a lap around the garden while it was still light.

And of course I had to have my plump little helper stalking me all the way.

Right now I am perched very very close to the roaring fire while I try and defrost the house. More news soon.

Well so much for tile work.  I woke up this morning to find it not only raining but blowing a gale.  Rats.  So instead of useful roof work I was forced to do house work.  And I had to tidy my office.

I tried to put it off by doing a spot of raking of leaves, but I got absolutely drenched in a downpour and had to come in and change clothes.   But the lawn is cleared of leaves so that’s a positive thing.  And I managed to go up to Jean Daniel’s and measure his vegetable garden up for the future asparagus beds we are going to plant in spring. 

I think we can get three rows of 5 metre long beds in between the jostaberries and the raspberries.  I’ve chosen plenty of different varieties from Blackmoors to try and stretch the season: cannover’s colossal, backlim, theilim, gijlin, and purple passion.  That ought to be a fun crop in a year’s time.

And while I was up at that part of the property I mooched about a bit and looked at the top vegetable plot that abutt’s Jean Daniel’s. Weeding needed.  So there’s something for next year.

And next up was closing up the potting shed. That’s not fun. Boy am I going to miss this lovely work room.  It felt odd putting fleeces over plants in such a mild season, but things could turn.

And naturally I had to think about my little potting shed companion.  He was fast asleep in a box today.  He is in one of the wine boxes that I have stacked on the shelf above the sedums for this very purpose.

He loves a nest and he is going to be very, very bored over the next month without me.  But I know he will be fickle about his nesting sites. So I have made him plenty. I’m almost ashamed to say that if I count them up there are seven spots where he can hide and doze and avoid the sound of the hunting dogs and the weather.  And right now he is sleeping on one of my old cashmere sweaters.

Moi? Spoil the elderly gent? Never!

So that’s the last picture of the year. It is appropriate as he has featured mightily over this year’s blog. And on behalf of both of us, I wish you all an early Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Caterpillars nil.  I love this pine tree. It is growing out of a rock all on its own on the upper terrace.

When we first bought this farm I saw it as a teensy seedling growing in the wrong place. I was strimming at the time and contemplated cutting it out.  But I didn’t. And look at it now. It does lean a bit, but it is easily four feet tall.

But it has an enemy within its leaves.  The dread pine processionary caterpillar. That’s thaumetopoea pityocampa to you.  And pity you if you have them. They cause an incredible allergic reaction if you touch them or get near their hairs on their bodies.  And some people get incredible reactions just from being in the forest near them as they shed hairs all year.

They weave the most fantastically strong nest to over winter in.  How strong? I couldn’t pull it away even yanking hard on the branch. So I was forced cut out quite a bit of the tree just to get the two little nests off. 

Our woodcutter friend Michel said that the only way to kill them once they have spun this nest is to shoot them with an air rifle when the temperature drops below freezing. That way they freeze to death inside their cocoon.  But if I can reach the nests they get cut out.   Michel can no longer work in many forests as he has become incredibly allergic to them and swells up and can’t breath just from being near them. Poor man.

And what do I do with them? Sorry Dad, all god’s creatures and all that. But they cause so much damage to the pine trees. And there are plenty of the nests too high up the trees for me to reach.

So that was my destructive start to the day.

The rest of the day was spent doing good in the soft fruit orchard. I have weeded like mad, put the hoe to energetic use around each bush, raked the existing mulch, and then added more. 

It’s always the way; I never have enough. I only bought five bags, and with two going to the village garden bed, I only managed to get some cover sorted.  But it’s fine. And the mulch is cheap, so I just need to get a dozen more bags next time I go to Castorama.

The trees are gorgeous in their autumnal colours.  That’s this mild weather for you. Actually I thought it might rain today, it was very overcast and blustery.  But I didn’t get wet. And in fact I’m going to have to water the grasses and a few other garden beds tomorrow to make sure they get a bit of moisture before the weather turns very cold.

And then I had a rush of blood to my head.  Nicolas left a pile of stones beside the orchard for a future project. Why not build a mini wall?

Well I won’t be putting any stone masons out of a job. But it’s cute and it puts a good full stop to the edge of the terrace.

Just a year ago this was a sloping area that teetered onto the terrace below and was held up with brambles.  I weeded, put all the compost onto the edge, covered it with weedproof fabric and didn’t pester it for a whole year.

And now it’s soil. Alchemy or what? So up came the fabric, and I need to add just a teesny bit more soil (about three or four wheelbarrow loads I think – which means six or seven half loads for me).  And then the mulch.

Next year.

So more fun things to tick off my list.  If I get time tomorrow I’ll start on the top vegetable garden.  I’m going to need mostly gauntlets up there.  The brambles are growing up through the wire fencing.   And I need to change the weedproof fabric on the paths.  And add the comfrey to the compost bins. So many things to do.

But first I need to get a lesson in tile repairs on our guest house roof.  Bring it on.

The last day of November and I had to go and get a sun hat at lunchtime to keep out the glare.  A gorgeous sunny and windless day.  I started with one fleece and two sleeveless fleeces and a woolly hat at 830am and then gradually shed as the day wore on.

I was on the grass work all day. Well it felt like that. One of those ‘you’ve started now you’ll have to finish project’.  And by the end of the day I can see that I have two square metres of grass transplanting to go.  But I won’t.  I must attend to weeding of the soft fruit orchard while it’s so fantastically mild.

And I’ve looted all the easy festuca grasses close by and have to start ranging quite far and wide to get my stock.

So I decided that before I start spending all my time walking up to the top terraces it would be prudent to have a tidy of the area and call it almost done.

First up was to take out all the asters that I plonked here as a sort of nursery bed and distribute them about.  Most of them went to the terraces just close by.

But I did go and put some into the east garden lilac bed to bulk out the beds there too.  Sorry the pictures are so unappetising: this is the end of November after all.

And I tried to take photographs of the heathers that I planted up above the lilac garden in a forgotten little space.  But they just disappeared into the background of grasses, rocks and ahem, weeds.  So you’ll just have to trust me that seven plants went in.  That part of the garden which abuts the gite is a future project. In about ten years time I’ll probably get round to it.

For now it was love what you have and attend. So I raked all the fallen chestnut burrs, nuts and leaves from the path above this new festuca bed; and pruned back some of the small branches of the chestnut that looms.

It looks a teensy bit neater now.

And it is in direct contrast to the path above the walnut walk where I took most of the afternoon’s grasses.  Battle of the Somme on a slope.  But I need to weed here over the winter anyway (it’s on my list), so I guess I could say that I’ve made a start on next year’s project.

I have been hunting grasses all day.  It’s a strange activity but quite satisfying.  On paper the idea looks great; smother the bank in grasses to improve the rather bland landscape of random weeds and mulch.  After all, that’s what nature does all over this mountain top.  But after a day and a half of work, I am not quite sure of the results. 

It all looks a bit green and fluffy and, well, ordinary.  Maybe that’s the trick of some landscaping; it looks effortless. But right now it just looks like any un-landscaped part of the natural terraces around.

I have snuck in a few euphorbias in among the biggest of the grasses.  And I curse not ordering another few hundred bulbs: all the soil is soft and just perfect for a mass planting of tulips and daffs in among the grasses. Maybe next year.

And I’m now thinking that maybe I should use the grasses as a mulch in and around the shrubs on the other side of the path.  Just to try and balance things out.  But I can’t do that yet as I’m hoping that all the small plants I’m growing on will be planted out and bulk out the beds.

I’m sitting here in the living room listening to a fireworks display inside the fireplace. Cracking and crackling pine logs in the open fire.  But the drizzle and the glowering sky meant I had to down tools half an hour earlier than usual.  Winter is frustrating when you are just desperate to get as much work down outdoors.

Earlier in the day I ducked over to St Michel and added two bags of mulch to the new bed next to the mayor’s office.  And delivered pots of paperwhite bulbs to friends in the eco hamlet.  So good deeds done.   It’s growing by a house each time I visit. A very impressive project.  Dario’s house is half way there, and I swear I never noticed that straw bale two storey house to his right last time I went.

Tomorrow I’ll try and finish the rest of the bed and then get started on a mass weeding of the soft fruit orchard.

Oh yes, and here’s what I forgot to mention yesterday: I straightened the wonky path on the potager.  I love how everything is on an angle on this farm.

I noticed how crooked the vegetable garden was when I was planting out the strawberries.  So I have now made a proper path.  I still have no idea whether I’m going to order 50 hornbeam hedging trees and put them in. Or just have an extravagantly large edge to the garden to permit the passage of a wheelbarrow without snagging on the chestnut walls on the narrow paths.

It will depend on whether I sell lots of jams at the Christmas Fare next month.  And on that note I think it’s toast and jam time. And a cup of tea.

Ah, a project. I have been plotting this one for a while now.  When you walk up the path from the house towards the potting shed you are confronted with what I call the shade garden. Two huge chestnut trees overhang this area of garden. And therefore make it dry and shady and not much fun for plants.

Oh, and it slopes. So it’s not a lot of fun. No wonder I have just mulched it and pretended it didn’t really exist.  On the left hand side I have been planting like mad.  But not madly enough. I’m still not happy with the look.  But I need to quadruple the quantity of plants to make it look half decent. And all my little cuttings are a long way off turning into plants.

So what to do? Or in the Leninesque way ‘what is to be done?’.  Cheat. I have decided to turn the area into a lawn. But with a difference. I’m using the local grass here called Festuca Glauca and a fine plant it is too. People actually pay money for it.

And as it’s a weed, I can stalk about and uproot them and move them into a new home.

First I had to clear the area first. That’s about ten metres long by three metres wide. And full of stones.

But it was a beautiful sunny day, no wind and Artur took up position nearby to keep an eye on me; but mostly to snooze.

By early afternoon I had enough cleared and raked and preened to be able to start transplanting.  But I had a few other chores to do first. Forest work. Chucking logs, and pruning roses.

The roses are fun because you get the pruning leavings to try and turn into plants.  So wearing thick gauntlets I pruned back all the courtyard roses and collected the sticks in a bucket. Cut down to size and then plunged into the newly cleared area of the wildflower garden near the pool.

See accidently planting all those lily bulbs in that bit of ground wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

And then I remembered that first thing on my list for the day was actually strawberry work.

I had potted up the runners late summer and now was the perfect time to cut them free of their parent plant and plant them in the bed.  Some of the leaves are turning a fetching red.  And the soil is nicely soft to pop in the new baby strawberries.

I had forgotten my mighty rubber gloves, so the nettles that grow out of the wall behind the strawberries and lone fig and forest of verbena bonariensis live for another day.

And then in the late afternoon, we went down to the lower terraces and set up the trail camera (infra red night vision) to try and find some wildlife.  We have missed our chance of getting the badger which had nested down near the vineyard.  No action on its territorial dung heap and the path through the forest looks neglected.

Hopefully we will catch something plodding on the path over the next two months.

Kneeler’s knee, bulb planter’s blisters, bramble scratches, pyracantha lacerations, aching back. Cracking day.

The village looks a little prettier.  Well, a little less neglected. The village committee assembled at 9am. And it ending up being just Jean Daniel and me.  But his enthusiasm with a pick and shovel just about makes a tribe of any fey gardeners.  We have launched ourselves into neglected beds, removed trees, cut back a forest of rosemary, and even uncovered a lost garden bed that was hidden under builder’s rubble.

I don’t know why I ever think it’s just going to be a gentle morning’s bulb planting.

Still we did some great work. And it will be a treat in springtime when the bulbs emerge.

And the fun of working at the village is just how many people are about.  There were a group of villagers working in the undercroft of the village hall preparing duck portions.

I know, wierd or what. But I peeped up from the lost bed we were weeding to see a production line of people and a huge teetering pile of duck bodies.  If I were a real journalist I’d have gone up and asked them what they were doing. I suspect there was something christmassy about the production, but I had enough to do just trying to remove the weeds.

We finished the work appropriately with a mighty bonfire. But I saved a lot of the willow branches from one of the beds to put through the chipper at home.