Memories are popping up on my Ipad. This one was from September 2016. It was the first time we experienced the ballon race that took place (cancelled the last two years) in this area. The balloons would land in the valley after flying past our garden. In fact one crashed into our huge oak tree one year. I had that surreal moment when a man stuck in the top of a two hundred foot tree looked down and shouted ‘Bonsoir’. There was not nothing to say but ‘Bonsoir’ in reply.
The little girl in the front of the photo is the daughter of our lovely neighbours Manu and Lucie. She is almost a teenager now, how time flies….
Rosie
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It’s official: we hand the keys over to the new owners of our house just before Christmas .
So Christmas as we know it is cancelled this year, no decorations (the one thing I love about Christmas). But there is a chance our son will come to visit with his friend so we will all be in a gite together, and it will be a an alternative Christmas, which will be good, not least because it will be different.
One of our lessons from living here has been to to simplify, to realise that we don’t need ‘stuff’ we just need good people around us. I read the linked post before I linked it, and it made me cry.
I have changed so much from this adventure, isn’t that what stepping outside of your comfort zone is about, to change and evolve?
So it’s busy, busy, busy. Rich is working I am packing up, and the poor animals are stressed to the max.
A new day is dawning…
Rosie
Today’s sunrise no wonder this house healed me …
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So after a slow start we have all signed the Compromise de Vente. Our buyers have a cooling off period but despite this they have paid their ten per cent deposit and paid to expedite the process, so it’s looking promising. It looks as if we will be leaving our home just after Christmas, if not before. Christmas is cancelled in our house.
We had started weeks ago with regard to getting the house ready to pack, including sorting the barn…
Yep! Why?
We have been clearing out cupboards, being really mercenary with letting things go. We have learned from this adventure that you have to let go to move forward. Despite knowing this I find we have to constantly remind ourselves. So due to this I am offering my son’s beautiful cherrywood cot, that turns into a bed, for free on a giveaway site. He’s 31, I think it’s time to let it go.
On Sunday we gave away his chess set and superhero figures to our neighbours little boy. I know why I bought them over here, I have realised that ‘letting go’ is a gradual process that, if we embrace change, happens over time. I loved my old house, it was the house where my son left home from, it was a beautiful house, and I couldn’t let it all go at once. But as we learn that change brings new things into our lives, so we let go to allow room.
There is a lot to do, and RD will be working for 3 to 4 weeks of the time left. So today we got up full of good intentions, despite both of us having a bad nights sleep, to crack on with clearing the goats shed, and the cellar. But I knew that we needed to plan this huge move, and the planning had to start from today, with everything to consider: money, the process, the order of things that needed to be done, and not least in the mix were our beloved animals. They have to be jabbed: the cats to enable them to go into the cattery at least 3 days before the actual move, and they and the Welshies need to have rabies jabs at least 22 days before the move.
We had to think are we taking the cats on the boat, for twenty hours, or fly them out to us. This would mean leaving them for up to eight weeks in a cattery, and I don’t want to spend a thousand euros on that. As part of our discussions we also both said we don’t want to leave them in France when we are not here. The decision has been made, they’re coming with us.
That led onto the discussion as to room in the van, leading on to ‘do we leave our stuff over here for months, or make arrangements to collect it sooner rather than later?’
To make all these decisions we had to contact the vets for prices for the inoculations, and a storage facility in Ireland, who acted like I was mad when I asked if he required a deposit, saying very kindly ‘Oh I don’t think there’s any need for that.’ We had to look up boats and what facilities they offer for our beloved furries, and so much more.
We need to find somewhere to stay for the ten days after the move, in France we have to leave the house at least 2 days before the sale goes through, because the house has to be clean, tidy and all blemishes and marks have to be made good. It’s all part of selling your house over here. On the day we all sign the final ‘Acte de Vente’ we hand the keys over there and then. There is no going back.
I wondered if we all pontificate when it comes to moving, because of that fear of change. I think we do.
So six hours after starting planning the day was nearly gone, but the plans have been mapped out on paper, decisions have been made and tomorrow we get up at 7! Hopefully I will get a wonderful sunrise to share.
Rosie
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It’s been a crappy year for the entire world. I don’t want a ‘new normal.’
Recently I was both horrified and shocked, and truly dismayed to read that Denmark are to cull 17 million farmed mink, because 5 have a mutated form of Covid. The fact that they are farmed is bad enough, but they are going to kill newborns, young mink, everything. When does man stop thinking he owns the world?
No wonder nature is trying to cull us, in so many ways, as a race we’re clearly not doing it to ourselves quick enough.
So as a way of trying to raise spirits I am going to share the fabulous dawns that I am privileged to see almost every day.
Let’s not be blind to the crap, but let’s focus on the positives: the sun rises every day, and every day it never fails to lift the spirit.
We need to listen to nature.
Rosie
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Selling houses is stressful, there is no doubt about that. But more of that on future blogs. Just to say the Compromise de Vente (which means a commitment to sale) has finally been signed by our buyers, and we are due to sign next week. There will then be a ten day cooling off period for the buyers, fingers crossed it all goes well.
Due to the stresses it has been easy to forget that we only ever live in the here and now. So last week as RD and I sat in the garden in some bright autumn sunshine, I reminded him that we should make the most of our impromptu tea break because when we go to Ireland we are both going back to work, which means the time for impromptu tea breaks on any day will be gone. That we should treasure how much time we get to spend with the Welshies, because we won’t have as much time as this in the future.
Later in the week we lit our garden fire, and took two of our garden chairs to just ‘sit’ and watch the flames. We are both in the frame of mind that we just want to leave France now, but we should treasure the moments when we sit under some of our majestic oaks, with the dogs, and enjoy the peace and solitude that you can only find in nature.
Today we were invited to our lovely neighbours Manu and Lucie, for aperitif. We spent a couple of hours with them, playing drafts with the chess set we retrieved from our barn, a gift to our son many years ago and never touched. Trying to teach them,and us,chess with the language barrier was just too great! Their eight year old son loved it, and a relaxed fun couple of hours was had.
RD has been struggling with everything that’s been going on, but when we returned he said ‘that has really lifted me, today,’ I looked at him and said ‘That’s what I mean about living in the here and now, we give so much focusing on what we want in the future we fail to see what we have now. We let it go, and we stop enjoying it.’ RD looked at me and said ‘I understand.’
Happy Sunday folks
Rosie
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I have made myself a promise, in this insane world, to give myself a little silence every day.
Here in France it is a beautiful autumn day, the sun is bright and warm, with just the occasional cloud blowing by.
So I took the time, from my what can be stressful days at the moment, and I had my tea and toast outside with the Welshies.
As I sat listening to the birds singing, and the trees sighing with resignation as the breeze took more of their leaves from them, I thought back to my first autumn here. I can remember how I would stand by my washing line and look around me in amazement that I owned the land where the huge oak trees loomed over me, and the crab apple dropped her apples loudly onto the goat shed roof. I remember walking up the chemin that was covered with a carpet of acorns and cob nuts crunching underfoot, and thinking this is mine.
But it was never mine, I never owned it, I borrowed it when I needed to heal, and it did it’s job. Now it’s time to let it go, and let someone else sit as the leaves blow by. Let someone else look down in wonder at the carpet of walnuts hiding amongst the leaves. Most years there are well over three thousand, we have given up trying to pick them all up, and we giggled the other day when we took the dogs for a walk down the lane and realised we were following a trail of walnut shells left by the squirrels. .
I will ask my neighbours if they want to collect some. If not the squirrels will be fed for the winter.
I will never tire of this view.
But one of my lessons has been it’s a view, that’s all. There will be more views.
Rosie
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It’s a blowy, blustery day here in France. One of those types of days that I love: when the rain is blown in and literally back out again by the ferocity of the wind, and the trees are waving away like demented stick giants frantically trying to tell us something.
I found the quote at the beginning of the post, today. As always, at a time when I needed to be reminded. What we will need will come. Selling houses are always such stressful times.
I reminded RD last night as we lay in our pretty little bedroom cuddling, with the lights sparkling away, and the Welshies gently snoring, that despite what we think we want, we must remember to live in the here and now: with our lovely house, with it’s stunning views, because that is all we have. As I lay in the night listening to the rain hitting the shutters I was reminded that this was one of the first things I loved about living here: that noise of the rain being flung about by the wind, knocking at the shutters as if asking to come into the safe and warm.
I think selling houses gets you so caught up in the planning for the future that you can often lose sight of the fact that you’re not really living your current moment. It was timely that the quote was sent my way today.
We had ordered some wood for the winter, knowing that despite the pending move nothing is certain and that we still need it for the here and now. With RD working it was down to me to take delivery and decant into our log store.
It was just what I needed: to be out in the blowey blustery day working, whilst I let the wind clear my mind. Nature was kind to me, the sun came out and the rain blew on by. I took some time to watch as the leaves dancing in the air as if some mad puppet master had control of them, at one point it looked as if they were marching in a line.
Now after a few hours work I sit here….
It is one of my favourite places to sit, and I am listening to the wind blowing through the trees, the sun is streaming through the window and I am again counting my blessings.
Rosie
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I woke this crisp autumn morning to this beautiful sunrise.
I have always shared the sunrises with you all throughout the years, I am now cherishing every one whilst I am here. Over the years the sunrises have inspired me on even my bleakest of moods, the sun rising over the vallees always reminded me that no matter what, a new day will come, and we just have to go with the flow.
It’s all systems go now for our move. We should know for sure if all is going ahead by the beginning of November. It’s a busy time.
Our little hamlet feels different now, almost subdued since the changes last week. RD and I feel as if life is saying to us ‘Time to go.’
Since our decision to leave we have always said that we are sorry to be leaving our little community, but what has happened is again a reminder that nothing stays the same; that you cannot stay somewhere because of people, because people change, their lives change, they move on. It’s like a ripple, constantly moving, there is no staying still.
Since making our decisions I have often said I would keep this house if I could afford to, as well as living in Ireland. RD asked me over the weekend would I stay now? The answer was ‘No’, it’s time to let go. There are new horizons to see.
But just for a moment I stopped and cherished the moment, on a crisp autumn morning.
Rosie
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Why do we do it? Why do we hold onto things when we don’t really need them? Nearly six years ago RD and I cleared out our old Edwardian home.
With a huge loft it took forever to box it up and we had so much crap in our loft and in the house that we swore we would never do it again. But two years ago we finally went through our boxes we had brought over to France and found we hadn’t been as good and mercenary as we thought, because we had actually paid to bring crap over to France with us!
No surprises then that we are now faced with the task of clearing out the crap again, although this time we have learnt our lessons and we are being mercenary.
The cupboard in the picture above was what we called the ‘crap’ cupboard. It sat at the top of the stairs and we squeezed so much stuff in it we could hardly close the door. The last time I was home I made it my mission for it to be the first cupboard to be cleared. It would then enable me to store the summer clothes and bedding that we are already packing away.
Out came our old bikers jackets (RD is an avid biker) our boots, all bent up and mine a size that no longer fits me! There were old curtains that I could ‘make use of sometime’. My dress from my 21st birthday, thirty six years ago ffs!
There were clothes we had moved over from England that had been putbin the cupboard ‘ready for ironing’ that have never been on our backs since! RD’s old Ted Baker shirt way back when he was a forty chest. We have discussed how even then those shirts were £65, we wouldn’t pay that now so wonder what the hell we were doing paying it then. We have learnt our lessons.
Then there were the coats: a funky little leopard print coat, and fluffy coat neither of which I would be seen dead in. Why the hell I moved them to France I do not know. But you see I do…I moved those things because I was afraid to let go of my old life, it was all so overwhelming that we both held on to some things to give us comfort. But they didn’t and we didn’t need them, and there again are lessons learned.
We are letting so much go, we have learned that you do have to let go of the old, to bring in the new, and that all things will change anyway. That has been the biggest gift for me: learning my lessons.
In Feng Shui they believe we should let go to enable new things to come into our lives, we know that now.
So this is what the cupboard looks like now, and this is with stuff we have already packed up.
I am home for just over another week, and tackling the crap in my buffet and armoire, I am opening up so many new opportunities by doing so.
It’s been busy, what with me going to work in Jersey, and the move still going ahead. RD has been on his own again for three weeks, it’s too long, especially when considering that I am not being paid for a week of isolation. Decisions have been made. We’re letting go of the rice.
Rosie
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Autumn has never enthralled me more than since moving here. I have written about it So often.
Autumn is a time for letting go, and no more so than this year.
So last Sunday, before I returned to work for what I thought was going to be a long stint, I realised that when I returned home in October the evenings would be dark, and the opportunity to sit in my garden on these warm autumn evenings would be passed; that this would be the final weekend evening ever when I could savour my garden as she began her preparation to move from summer to autumn. Because all things are changing.
It has been incredibly warm here for September, with the temperature in the early thirties most days, so as the sun went down RD and I decided to take a walk around our garden, and savour what we have, at times, taken for granted.
Off we went up the chemin (ooh matron!) that divides our main garden from our field behind our barn, as the sun started to set. Needless to say the Welshies were with us, excited that mummy and daddy were walking around the garden with them, as if they wanted to show us all the things we might miss. Like the crab apples, and Cobb nuts, crunching beneath our feet.
And not put off by Welshies at all decided to join us on our walk. She is fondly known as ‘cat Dog’.
Up she came behind us, stalking the serial killer known as Wiglet (she is a Bond villain after all!) not put off my Wiglet’s penchant for killing small things, because Daisy is a bit of an oompa loompa!
As we walked on to the field behind our barn, with its newly repaired roof (the boy done good) the sun set reflected onto the old building, built in 1812, it shimmered in the sunlight, as if knowing that yet again it was being left behind. That building must have so many stories to tell. We are going to become part of it’s history now.
As we stood taking in the sunset RD reminded me of the fabulous view from just over the horizon of the field behind us. In five years I had still not walked down to see it. I will make a note to do that when I get home.
I looked at all my beautiful animals, and was reminded of just how much they love us.
I savoured the sunshine, and thought of all those beautiful creatures who we have lost in the last five years, poignant memories, the kind that make you smile with tears in your eyes. Autumn reminded me, as always, of the things we take for granted.
I realised then that I rarely show you the view from this side of our garden, or the sun setting from this angle. So time to share this walk with you, with all who have followed this adventure with me. From the fields surrounding us, to the old statuesque oaks, standing so tall in our garden. They will give someone else shelter next year.
I miss my home….
Rosie
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