The Opposite of Sun Worship

 It gets hot in the south of France. Summer days can soar into the 90s or even 100 Fahrenheit; that's in the 30s Celsius. 

And like most people in France, we don't have air conditioning. We get only a few moments of smugness as we consider that we aren't harming the environment, before the sweat wipes away that do-gooding feeling. 

So how do we stay cool in the summer? It's about 75 degrees Fahrenheit (23 C) inside our thick- walled house, but that's only because we have learned how to keep it cool. 

Usually, we throw open the shutters on our windows in the morning to embrace the sun, 

The sun peaks over the mountains in the morning.

but in summer, I prop the wooden shutters open like a tent rather than opening them fully. 

The muted light filters in and the air can circulate

Sometimes I close the windows as well. At night, I do the opposite, I throw the shutters open, allowing the light from nearby street lights to fill the bedroom as the cool air filters through our lace curtains. 

The sun peeping through the guest bedroom window

The most important thing is to protect the indoors from the strong sunshine. We also keep the fans running -- overhead fans in the bedrooms and office. Standing floor fans in the downstairs rooms. 

Even with our shutter method, the upstairs is decidedly warmer than the downstairs by evening, but once the sun goes down, the shutters are opened and I place a fan in front of the window to suck in the cooler air. 

At night, the temperature has been dropping down to 16 or 17 Celsius, in the 60s Fahrenheit. That gives the house a chance to cool off before the next day's heat assault. 

Once you get used to it, it doesn't seem so hard to live without air conditioning. After all, we've already adapted to only run the dishwasher and the washing machine at night when the electricity prices are lower. 

Beach Birthday Celebrations

 Last week, my friend Sue had her first French birthday. This fell right before her first French wedding anniversary and her official Franciversary, the day she moved to France. 

We all wanted to celebrate so we took a day at the beach. 

The beach reminded me of my days in Corsica.

Our friends have a puppy, so we had to look for a beach where dogs were allowed. We ended up going to La Franqui and walking to a part of the beach where there weren't any "No Dog" signs. 

But first, we had lunch along the waterfront. 

A lake, or etang, stretched inland between the sand and the sea

Although it looks beautiful and had lots of birds in it, it was a little stinky.

Sue and I toasting her birthday. I had sangria. 

Earl and Steve in matching blues

After lunch, we began the long walk out across the sand. But the sand was soft and not too hot. We took the dog off the leash and he ran like a crazy hound into the etang trying to scare off the seagulls. We kept walking farther and farther down the beach trying to avoid the "No dog" signs. Finally, I suggested we just play dumb if anyone approached us about the dog. There were other dogs, so we set up our beach blanket and the dog rolled on it immediately, sprinkling it with sand.

The pup in the foreground. Earl striding into the Mediterranean

This was a pretty perfect beach. The sand was soft. The entrance into the Med was not precipitously steep as it had been at some beaches. We could walk a long way out without it getting too deep, as a matter of fact, a sandbar allowed us to stand in knee-deep water and let the waves break around us. 

Paddling around in the sea when it's a gorgeous blue is glorious. 

Afterward, we tried to rest on the beach, but the dog had other plans. 

He immediately began digging, covering our blanket with sand. We tried shaking it out a few times but he went right back to digging. 

Earl spread a towel away from the blanket to see if the dog was after us specifically or just the blanket. At one point, the pup was just pummeling me with sand and I had to go back in the sea to rinse off all the sand. I still found a bunch caked around my ears in the shower that night. 

Sue and Steve thought it was hilarious, until the dog turned his digging super powers on them. 

Digging to Australia.

Ice cream on the boardwalk

After rinsing off, we headed back to the boardwalk for beers and ice cream. Mine was a Mama Mia with salted caramel ice cream and sauce. The addition of the Haribo candies did nothing for me. 

This was a terrific beach and we'll definitely visit again. As September stretches in front of us, we know our beach adventures are coming to an end soon. 

Anniversary Outings

 On Wednesday, Earl and I celebrated our 31st anniversary. "Celebrated" is a bit of an overblown statement. 

The highlight of the day came in the afternoon, following a few hours of teaching. Jim and Theresa picked us up in their VW Golf with the snazzy red mirrors and we zoomed about 45 minutes south of here to Maury. Well, past Maury and the more heavily visited wineries there to MA, Mas Amiel, another winery, with a difference. 

The winery has jugs, known as dame Jeanne, setting outside in the sun. I'd always thought the sun was bad for wine, but apparently this winery has different theories. We would be the judge of that!

The dame Jeanne wine jugs sitting in the sun.

Vineyards and wine jugs and the hills beyond. 

We wandered in and looked around the showroom before walking up to the counter. Most tasting rooms have wine stewards who speak English, and this one did as well, although he got hung up a few times and we encouraged him to say it in French, thinking we would still understand. They usually ask what kind of wine we like. They serve the wine from weakest to strongest taste, so usually whites and rosés, first, followed by reds. Earl and I are red wine drinkers, but we have been won over by a few rosés lately. 

Post tasting. After each wine, we swish the water in our glass and pour it into the bowl. 

He started us with a mellow rosé. I've found that people frequently want a rosé in the summer, so knew we would buy a bottle for 8,90 euros. Then he moved onto fortified wines. Fortified wines are similar to port, they are mixed with other, stronger alcohol. The fortified white would work well as an aperitif. 

The four of us. 

The fortified red we tasted first, although it had Theresa's favorite label, purple and blue, did not win us over. A 2012 fortified wine was so smooth, but pricey. 

Then we moved on to the oxidized wines, those that sit out in the sun. They were labeled for their age --20 years old, 30 years old, 69 from grapes grown in the late 60s. The 20 tasted good. The 30 tasted like raisins. But the 69, oh, the 69, tasted like heaven in my mouth. 

The wine steward did a good job selling it, pointing out that it's like buying a good bottle of whiskey, you only drink a little and on special occasions. It lasts for years. 

As we were checking out, the steward gave us a gift of a bottle of wine since it was our anniversary. I figured it was a throw-away bottle they kept to hand out free, but Jim found it on the list and pointed out it was a 30 euro bottle of wine. That might not be much to spend on wine in the States, but anything over 10 euros seems expensive when you live in the land of free flowing, inexpensive wine. 

Chairs outside the tasting room. 

Us outside the tasting room

We drove home through the sunshine, admiring the mountains and the endless undulation of trees around us.

The lane leading up to the winery.

 We stopped to harass our friend Steve who we saw along the side of the road preparing for a time trial on his bicycle. It's fun to run into friends miles away from home. 

Then we walked to a nearby restaurant for a simple meal with Jim and Theresa, sitting inside because the weather had taken a turn to the chilly. 

Not a bad way to celebrate living in France and that day 31 years ago we pledged our love in front of our friends and family.  

The Last Day in March

I’m not sure if I need to add many words to the pictures from today, but an adventure always needs a little explanation. 

My friend Jules and I set off to explore a castle, Château de Quéribus, about an hour from home. The website said it was open, but when we got there, a man in a black leather jacket with an unleashed dog stood reading the sign, obviously disappointed. “C’est fermé,” he said. It’s closed. 

The view from below, outside the closed gates

We watched other people pull up and leave, equally crestfallen. We walked to an overlook and spent a few minutes. Then I heard a sound of women talking, echoing off the rock of the mountain and spotted two young women trodding along the path high above us. “Look, Jules. They’re in.”

We walked down to the closed gate again. A path led under some wooden barriers around the gate. We climbed under and found ourselves climbing up the steep path. 

We considered ourselves fortunate to get this far

I expected to come up against a barrier at each bend, but we reached the overlook and sighed, enjoying the view. 

The view from the castle

Then I climbed the wooden stairs, expecting the doors of the castle to be closed. Nope. Open.

We explored all of it from the cathedral

The soaring ceilings in the cathedral

to the dungeon, where I cracked my head as we were climbing the stairs, but no blood. 

The dungeon at least had windows, but my phone added light to the stairs as I took this picture

What a glorious day to look over the countryside. 

Can you spot me in the window? 

And if the day had ended there with some surreptitious castle viewing and beautiful weather, it might have been enough

Out the castle window

but we headed to the Mediterranean, of course. In the past week, I've taken more trips to the coast than I did all of last year. I've yet to regret it.

We went to Canet-en-Roussillon beach. A wander along the sidewalk led us to a pizza shop that was open. We ordered a pizza and crossed the street to set up our beach towels next to a wall that would block the wind (of course there was wind). 

We ate pizza with ham and black olives and then just soaked up the delightful sun for a bit, until antsy-ness got the best of us and we packed up our belongings.

The expanse of sand before the sea was huge. It took forever just to walk out to the water, which is still cold, by the way. 

The frothy waves

Me

Kite surfer

In these times of a pandemic, we never know when we might be locked down again. But here in France, we know because the President gave a speech this evening and said starting Saturday will be a four-week confinement. We especially don't regret an outing knowing that we'll be unable to travel more than 10 kilometers from home in the coming month.

And the day ended perfectly when Earl texted me and alerted me that our doctor had a vaccine for him today, and she might be able to eek out enough for me as well. 

Jules and I met him at the doctor's office on the way home and she was able to give both Earl and me our vaccines. What a relief to be partially protected, about 85% she said after a few weeks. Jules gets hers next week. 

So we're ready for the next lock down after some lovely explorations and adventures. 

Sunflowers

During lockdown, Earl went to the market one day with express instructions to buy plants for our very small garden. We had heard that the plant seller would be there.

Earl put on his trusty mask and walked to the market.
Our outdoor market continued throughout the confinement, supplying fruits, vegetables, cheese and other necessities of life. We would take turns going because buying food in the outdoors seemed preferable to going into the grocery store. The town also took precautions, requiring people to wait at a distance in line and for the employees to pick up the fruits and vegetables as the customer directed them.
The plant seller had taken pre-orders. We didn't realize that, so took what was hadn't been claimed. Earl came home with six sunflower plants, along with a few daisy-type plants.

A selection of plants

I had purchased gladiola bulbs at the grocery.
Grace took charge of the garden, planting whatever we brought home.
As I looked at the plants, I regretted that we hadn't gotten some alpaca fertilizer from a friend in town. The soil in our garden looks a bit like concrete when it dries. I feared for our plants.
We don't have any mulch, although apparently you can get sawdust or chunks of wood from the local sawmill. 

Plants added, including wisteria along the metal brace

We bought some more plants once the local garden store opened. It had a strict policy of "you touch it you buy it" since we were still in lockdown. But overall, we were pleased with our purchases.
Next we had to protect the young plants from the snails.

I collected snails and deposited them across the road by the railroad tracks.
After awhile, we had very few snails in the garden. 

It wasn't long before the sunflowers in our garden began to take off. They grew and grew, climbing taller than the fence and even taller than Earl. 

Our sunflowers grew extraordinarily tall. You can also see the gladiolus blooming

Sunflowers in a field are usually about my height. You can see that in the picture of me from two summers ago.

The gargantuan size of our sunflowers soon gave way to speculation.
Could there be a body buried somewhere in our garden, was our first suspicion. After all, we only bought the house last August. We had no idea about its history.

The sunflower looms over Earl. 

As some friends joined us for dinner in the garden, Ray shared a story about some delicious grapes that a friend had planted and harvested. Extraordinary sized, juicy, and plentiful, he described the grapes. Then, the owner followed the roots and saw that the grapevine had infiltrated the sewage pipe, causing the vines to grow so bounteously.
We figured that sunflowers don't have roots as strong as grapevines so they probably weren't in our sewage pipe.

My hand next to the sunflower so you can see how thick the stalk is --
yes, like Jack in the Beanstalk. I could possible climb them. 

My friend Derrick has another theory. He figures the sunflowers had to grow taller to catch the sun.

A tree across the street sometimes blocks the sunlight, so he speculates that the sunflowers reached for the sky to get the most sun.
Whatever the reason, it's lovely to have a garden full of sunflowers that tower over everyone. We'll sprinkle seeds and see if they come back next year in full force.
But we won't go digging around for Jimmy Hoffa, just in case. 

Bike and Wine Tour

Today we set off in the dark morning with just a sliver of moon lighting the way, crossing the mountains and coming down again into the Corbières valley, a region famous for wine making in this part of France. 

It was a bike ride and wine tasting. 

The short ride was 76 kilometers, about 47 miles, with 4 wine tastings and lunch included.

Our friend Steve is  practically a professional biker and his wife Lou also rides well on her nice bike. 

Earl and I have heavier bikes called hybrids. We like them but felt the drag of them today. 

Our first stop, about 8 miles in looked like a visiting circus with all the multi-colored bicycle gear. 

The wine looked nice and I had flashbacks to the Beaujolais Nouveau we would snap up at Trader Joe’s in November but the wine did not live up to my expectations. 

We hopped on our bikes for 25 more kilometers

 to Lagrasse where we stopped for a snack, ham and butter on baguettes, soft drinks or wine.

Back on the bikes to Terre d’expressions for more wine. This one was called Premeur, still a new wine. 

Our last gasp of a ride before arriving for lunch, 12 kilometers. 

We’d ridden 61 kilometers, when we sat down for lunch, noodles with pork, meatballs and sausages. 

Plus more wine. 


The wine tasted better each time, but maybe that just came from tiredness. 

We had cheese and dessert at the end. 

All of this for 12 euros and a little sweat equity. 

It was a beautiful day and we both needed a break from working — Earl on the house and me teaching. 

Now we’re sitting in the sun while Lou and Steve cycle the 15 kilometers back to the car. They’ll pick us up and we only feel slightly decadent choosing not to ride the final 15 k.

Dreaming of France -- Scenery During a Morning Run

Ooops. Sorry I'm running late. I'm on vacation in Florida and totally forgot about posting Dreaming of France today.

Thank you for joining this weekly meme. Grab a copy of the photo above and link back to An Accidental Blog. Share with the rest of us your passion for France. Did you read a good book set in France? See a movie? Take a photo in France? Have an adventure? Eat a fabulous meal or even just a pastry? Or if you're in France now, go ahead and lord it over the rest of us. We can take it.

One thing that I continue, no matter where in the world I am, is running. So here are a couple of shots that I took on my first run in France this spring. 

In Columbus where I live, the scenery doesn't change very much. It's pretty flat and I pass other runners and walkers with their dogs, but in the village Mireval, not far from Montpelier, I had a view of a ridge of mountains. Not a common sight for me. 

 

And the mountains got higher as I got closer. Plus look at that old stone wall. I wonder who built it and how long ago. 

In the distance was a village, and the spire of the local church stood above everything else.

And some of the houses had lovely roses in bloom. 

Thanks for joining me as I dream of France. On Thursday I have a book review going up and a chance to win a copy of That Spring in Paris by Ciji Ware. I hope you'll come back.