No news like old news

Now all these things happened last Thursday. Which Thursday? 17th September I think. Just one day before my annual Girlie Climbing Weekend.

First task was to leap into the potager and remove all the worst of the spent crops. Tomatoes were the first to go. They could have survived a tad longer if they were well watered; but they didn’t and weren’t so here they are making a jolly good job at compost.

And speaking of compost. I fell to my hands and knees and prayed to the… no, I climbed down to my hands and knees and saved my back by scooping out the rich compost mulch from the bins and carried it by bucket around the orchard.

Soft fruits were the first to get the treatment, followed by the apple tree closest to the vegetable garden. And I ate a delicious Melrose apple while I worked. That makes a total of six fruits from the orchard this year, but it’s a start.

I have dug the preparatory holes for the new olive trees. But have taken wise advice from Andrew and will only plant two later in the season. I have to ‘source’ them first. Which just means driving down to Jaquet pepinieres in St Peray and forking out.

Next up was a spot of strimming. Risky with a sore back, but I needed to get the calabert area cleared in readiness for Nicolas to build the wall. He is away in Champagne at the moment doing his annual grape harvest. But when he returns the wall should get started.

I can’t wait as it is an eyesore right now. Mind you, you can get used to anything after a few years. I was looking over a few of the pictures of the house when we moved in two years ago; and have to remind ourselves how far we have come along.

Being a Thursday I did zip up to Vernoux market first thing. And everything is back to ‘normal’ now. Very quiet and the usual suspects and not a provencal pot in sight. I bought my usual bread, pickled garlic, extra tomatoes. And then couldn’t resist buying a dozen lettuce seedlings to plant up in the cloche of bolted lettuce plants.   And then looked about for figs. None in the usual places, but thank goodness for Madame Orisette. She had heaps. I couldn’t buy more than three kilos as there was a queue of like minded shoppers. And I didn’t want anyone to be deprived.

Bless Madame Orisette, she does like to talk. Recipes, ideas for cooking, news about her family. All the while you are standing about with your coins and she doesn’t hand over the bag of figs until prompted by Monsieur.   But hand over she did. And in the evening I whipped up a batch of Sarah’s favourite. Fig Jam.

The stocks have been ravaged already by Girlie Climbers. But I have enough for Holland next week.