A Tony day. So we now have all the compost from the big ugly bin moved to the lower potager. And we now have a potting shed. Well, almost. Tony dug out heaps more soil and laid down the pallets to make a stable floor. Sadly these are the super stinky ones from the original shed. So they reek of chook. Must be on the lookout for abandoned pallets from now on. Hopefully Bernard can add building a floor to his long list of chores at the house. And I need to paint it; I’ve done half of it already. But it is certainly taking shape. We also had the pool cover arrive so relief all round.  

One last hoe of the weeds on the top potager in the evening light. It definitely feels like the end of summer today. Not a summer when much was planted: but at least we can say that phase one is complete. No more chicken wire, no more brambles (for now), the plots have been laid out and the garden is staring to stake shape. The ground is cleared and ready for the September planting.  No planting before the 15^th of September I am admonished. Well, that is fine. I have just two weeks to come up with some plans. Two weeks to get back to London and tackle the very neglected garden there.  Two weeks to try and work out how to sort the watering system at the potagers, collect yet more books on garden design, and return with vigour to the new life as a gardener.

My this last week is roaring along. Mad thunder storms all morning. Poor Manu was out digging our earth wiring in the rain. The house has no earth at the moment; that will require a major rewiring which we just don’t have the courage to undertake right now. But Manu is a great one for advance planning. He had made a hole in the wall to run the cabling from the pool shed to the main circuit board; so suggested he embed the earth wire at the same time. Very neat and very assiduous work. We had planned to go climbing today – but the rain stalled our plans. Instead we went for a walk up the hill this afternoon. Then I spent a furious and extremely sweaty hour hoeing all the weeds in the lower potager. I’m sure they weren’t there the day before. And I have no hope of working out which seedling is mâche and which is weed in one of the rows. So I fear I will have to replant that row in pots and then plant out. But the radishes are pushing up madly. And the chard and lettuce are great.   I kept glancing forlornly at the inviting swimming pool at the end of the terrace; and after the hour I knew I couldn’t perspire any longer. I dashed to the house, hoe clattering to the gravel, into the swimming costume and straight into the 24 Celsius bliss. Now that’s what pools are for. Hard work in the garden and then plunge into the pool for a half hour cool off afterwards. 

Tonight we are off to our neighbours Danielle and Jean-Danielle for dinner (plum and almond tart just out of the oven) and we have agreed with M. Darribière on the shape of our future roof. The climb up onto the deteriorating tiles was an eye opener. All very well to have hundred year old works of art up there. But the amount of broken, and plain missing ones is glaring. And the under-tile fabric (don’t ask me what it’s really called) has deteriorated in many areas too. And we have the typical Ardèche method of keeping the most important tiles on the top. They are held down by small stones. Not brilliant but picturesque. 

No time to garden today; visits from our roofer and trips to buy more electrical goods down in the valley. I did buy a crate of peaches on the way back. And my

London habits betrayed me. I was looking on the crate to see where the peaches came from. And the woman in the shop looked at me askance. ‘Down the road of course’. Here in the Ardèche is the reply. No food miles for these lovely peaches. But it puts an end to fantasies about eating fruit from our own peach trees this year. I did wade through a few of them with fromage blanc and honey this morning. But their aroma was more of Tony’s honey than Marsanoux peach.

Back after almost three days away. Had to make a call to another neighbour Luc to help with the watering as we are having hot weather at last. And things don’t seem to have suffered too greatly by the neglect. The weeds are still growing lustily in the potager. And the grapes are ripening in the arbour. Even some of the peaches have chosen to ripen slightly before going soft, brown and rotten. I picked plenty of blackcurrents off the trees and made them into a tart at once.  Then it was onto the peach trees to see what could be salvaged. Sadly, the white peaches survive more than the yellow ones, and they are a bit mealy and unsatisfactory. But I have made enough into a fruit salad to warrant the moniker ‘fruit from our trees’.  Watered the chard and the lettuce. But didn’t have time to go up to the top potager at all. That’s telling. We really must only have crops up there that don’t need lots of attention. Or are so compelling (raspberries) that I will want to walk up to attend.

Blisters on my hand from using the hoe. Must work harder on toughening them up. And to do so I started on the future potting shed. Right now it is disguised as a chicken shed. With years of accumulated chicken poop knee deep on the ground. I don’t think you would call it gardening, but I have been shovelling chicken droppings and soil for the last two hours. First a barrow load onto the compost heap. Then into two large barrels beside the chicken coop doors. And now onto the soil outside. It looks precious as it so enriched with manure. But I have too much of it (a tonne?) to store. So out it goes. And soon I will get to a level of soil in the shed where I can stand up. And pot up plants, and store seeds and keep books. And generally pretend I am living the life of a gardener. Reading Monty Don’s epic garden tome last night wasn’t that encouraging. His is a perfectly manicured and busy and productive garden. And ours is just beginning. Apart from the fruit trees. And the land. And jostaberries. I really ought to mulch around the base of these prolifically fruiting trees. But I can’t reach them right now. They are buried beside a mountain of grit that Tony placed for me in preparation for a future path.  Another day another pair of black hands. I’m making batch number two of elderberry syrup. And I thought I used good gloves to keep out the lovely blue black stain the berries leave behind when I squeeze the bejeezus out of them. But no. At least it’s not as bad as last time. And I know that if I scrub like mad I will end up with merely purple than black. And two more bottles of precious elderberry syrup. Words to the wise. Don’t make elderberry syrup after drinking too much beer. Put the heat way too high and have ended up with elderberry jam. In a thin necked bottle. David discovered a fruiting Mirabelle tree tonight. Never noticed it before as it is on the top side but it’s full of fruit. What a shame we can’t reach them. Must buy a step ladder. And later tonight I am slug hunting. Something I have never been able to do before. Just walk out into the garden with a torch and check for slugs under the lettuce. Two of them look a bit smaller than the rest. And I suspect my clever straw mulch was a complete mistake. They can lurk under there and attack at will.

This month is going by so fast. Today I did what felt like my first proper gardening: I weeded the two potagers. Warm work but satisfying as this strong rain we have endured the past few days has meant many weeds. I cut the brambles that persisted around the top potager fencing. And even had time to cut some roses for the vases in the house. The garish red rose in the top courtyard is not long for this world I think. It gives little pleasure. But I’m loathe to remove something so large and abundant in flowers. But to me, roses must work for their space. Lots of flowers, extraordinary colour and above all, scent. This poor one has thorns, bare branches and lots of over red (orangey) flowers. I tried to cut them for the vase but really they are all too floppy or else to short. I shall ponder their fate while I read the David Austin Rose catalogue tonight. 

 

A wet day. Perfect for making syrop de sureau. That’s elderberry syrup to the rest of us. And it’s delicious nectar. But my hands seem to be permanently stained blue from squeezing the fruit in the muslin bag. Two bottles of syrup down. And I have about two more to make from the frozen berries I am hoarding.  David made another blackberry tart, another achievement. And today is another milestone: we have grapes from the arbour. Not all are perfect, but some on many bunches are deliciously ripe. More crops. Hurrah. 

Sum total of gardening today: four wheelbarrow loads of compost taken from the top area and down to the lower vegetable garden. Plus a vase of roses for the house. Spent the day painting the seedling box, meeting the builder who is going to fix our guesthouse, and a fun session with EDF and our electrician. Then instead of sweating away the afternoon with a spade and a mountain of compost, it was out on the bike for an hour’s ride to the nearest village and back. Plus lots of housework. Must give the garden more attention tomorrow. If we don’t climb all day.

We found the top field. At long last and with a lot of bramble scratches, the summit has been reached. The victory has to go to our house guests the Collees for launching the expedition. We spent a very happy late morning up there planning a future – all cleared of brambles and maybe including a tree house.  First blackberry tart from the fruit in the garden. 

Bats in the house. We were so engrossed in watching the rugby on our brand new tv that we left all he doors open. Dusk became night then we had a night time arrival. He did about twenty laps around the living room and finally was mustered out the front door. 

Mooching about the house a bit in the hope that the pool people will deliver the cover. But in the meantime I am well occupied with weeding the courtyard. It’s a lovely soothing and never ending task. There is gravel covering the ground, but the weeds are tenacious and get through. M. Vivion spoke of a product you can apply to areas that need to be weed free – something he does on public areas, but it’s a mighty chemical. So I think we are going to decline. There are other solutions. And one of them is just to accept we will have weeds and set to once a month to taking them out.