Category Archives: The adventures of living life in the French countryside

It’s Just A View….

16 Tuesday Feb 2021

Posted by in Beautiful Donegal, coming home, France, Ireland, Irish Adventures, Irish Scenes, mental health, My home, Reflections, Simple things, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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Dunmore, Donegal, Ireland January 2021

Only recently someone said to me that ‘Yousure know how to find a view’. I thought of it the other day as I was pegging out my washing in the blustery winds and suddenly stopped and looked at this…

As I turned and found myself looking at this on the other side, It did just make me stop and think of that conversation.

But I was also reminded of a conversation I had last summer with an elderly lady that I cared for. She had the most amazing view from every room in the home she had lived in for over fifty years. When I commented on the view she said ‘Yes, it’s a view!’ I understood exactly what she meant, a view is a fleeting thing, something that holds you in awe for a time and then it becomes like the sideboard, something that you take for granted, something that you have seen over and over, it no longer makes you go ‘wow!’ Unless you stop at times, and look out and remind yourself of how lucky you are.

When we first moved to Montaigu in France the view across the valley literally took my breath away.

The Valley From My French Garden

I would stand at my washing line and look across this valley and remind myself ‘I live here!’ In the same way as I would look out of my bedroom window at the hay bales as summer drew to a close and marvel at the colours, and nature.

French Summers

As time moved on although we never really tired of the view I can’t say that we were ‘in awe’ any longer, not unless we made ourself stop, and count our blessings.

But every morning if I was up early enough to see the sunrise I would rush out in my jymbi jambes and slippers and take photos of the sunrise, because no two were ever the same, all truly breathtaking. We count that view as a blessing, something in our memories for the rest of our lives.

Sunrises in the Pays de Loire

Now I find myself here in Donegal Ireland, surrounded by mountain ranges and beaches, it is the most atmospheric place that I have ever lived.

As I walk to the beach the colours change over and over, as does the weather with the sun, wind and rain.

I think it will be impossible to become bored with this, but I also think that’s because we try to always focus on the here and now, never take anything for granted, and count our blessings. One of those is that I have a view, but is it in the perspective? Can we not see something beautiful wherever we are? I don’t know I think I’ve been blessed.

More to come.

Rosie

Diary Of A Move: Dismantling The Home We Made.

29 Sunday Nov 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, Goodbyes, Learning and Evolving, My family and other furry creatures, My home, new adventures, New Paths, poignancy, Saying Goodbye, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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November Sunrise In Ambrieres les Vallees France

As you can probably tell I am trying to cherish every beautiful sunrise that I see. There are not many left here for me to cherish. I know there will be new ones, I am not sad about our decisions, but those new ones are not here yet, and I firmly remind myself to live in the here and now.

November Sunset in Ambrieres les Vallees France

When I find my new home I will put up a collections of the sunrises and sunsets that I have had the blessing to see whilst living here in France. It’s been a part of my life.

Life has took off now, we have less than three weeks left in this house. I have been packing for the last two weeks, and now every cupboard is empty apart from the stuff we’re using. The home we built is now being dismantled. I have held onto my sparkly lights until next week, just to feel as if we are still at home, but I know I will have to relinquish them eventually.

I have been mercenary, even selling our vintage Blue Willow plates, bowls and side plates, they are just not my thing, I prefer my plain white plates. It was only after I sold them that I realised that I had packed all our other plates and now we have no small plates or dinner plates, just platters! When I gave Daisy the cat some milk and cream she looked at me as if I had grown another head when I poured it out for her on a platter!

Our Beautiful Bedroom. I will create a new one. I always do.
Dismantling

The shelves are coming down, our antique French mirrors are packed away and my bedroom that I lovingly put together is slowly being dismantled, but I am still trying to hold on to my sparklies in every room for as long as I can.

Our beautiful French buffet is now in storage along with our armoire, both have already gained scratches but I knew that was coming. No stress they can always be repainted.

The fourteen mirrors we have throughout the house are coming down. The old grandfather clock has been taken to storage and when I woke this morning waiting for it to chime out the time, I suddenly remembered it was now chiming away in our friends summer house. I hope the mice appreciate it, and don’t feel the need to re-enact ‘Hickory Dickory Dock’!

Our furries are stressed to the max, the dogs are getting tetchy with each other, and the cats have finally started to snuggle together after being at odds for years. We feel really guilty about our animals, poor Wiglet looks afraid all the time after her terrible start in life, and we have to keep reassuring her that everything will be okay, that she is coming with us. Harley pretty much takes most things in his stride but even he is getting arsy with Wiglet.

I feel sad because I know they all love this garden, and because I know they will have to move again from our rental into whatever house we find; and God knows what condition that will be in. I do know that the first job will be to fence the garden to protect them all. Despite my guilt I know that part of our decision is based on finding regular work, because we have responsibilities to them, and I know that they will love Ireland just as much as they love here.

We know in our heart of hearts that we are doing the right thing for us all; and we also know that if you want an adventure part of it is discomfort, and apprehension, and poignancy. But we’ve done it once, we know we can do it again. This time we’re just letting more stuff go, and going into the future with our eyes open, using all we have learned from this adventure.

As I packed up this week it suddenly came to me that the last five years have all been about learning things to prepare us for our life in Ireland. We know that life is mapped out, we accepted that a long time ago.

Life’s all about learning and facing your fears ay?

Rosie

Sunsets from my French garden in France

Memories. How Time Flies By…

24 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by in a sense of community, My home, poignancy, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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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

New Horizons Are On Their Way

24 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, Goodbyes, My home, new adventures, New Paths, People, Saying Goodbye, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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Sunrise in Ambrieres 24 November 2020

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 …

Here and Now: The Small Things I Love

16 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, For the live of dogs, My family and other furry creatures, new adventures, New Paths, Simple things, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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Anyone who follows this blog knows that I have always loved the sunrises over the valley. I have shared them often with you, the photo above is todays sunrise and I promised more in one of my recent posts, I hadn’t forgotten.

At this time of year the winds can whip up quickly in the valleys, but despite their ferocity at times I have always loved laying in bed with my beloved husband and Welshies and listen to them whooshing around the house. and more than anything I love to hear the rain hitting the drawn down shutters. I lay in bed with all my blessings around me and I listen to that rain and I feel safe, and blessed to have shelter. It is a small thing to some, but living here listening to that calming sound has made me understand that it’s not a small thing, it’s the thing that people search for: a home, safety, love.

This week we were reminded again, to live in the here and now. Harley has been a little off colour over the past few weeks, and I noticed he was drinking more, and he had some accidents in the house. On Friday he literally wet himself in front of us, so I took him to the vet on Saturday morning. The outcome was that they wanted to test him for ‘Cushings’ disease. Of course I had already looked up possibilities of what could be wrong with him, and I knew that this possible outcome was not good. Harley is nine now, and I want him to live forever (tears in my eyes now.)

We booked the test for today, and we cried all day on Saturday, and I just kept saying my mantra ‘here and now, here and now’ over and over again.

I joined numerous Facebook groups to ask for advice. The outpouring of support from those sites, and our wonder Welsh Terrier Fan Club site was overwhelming. In these difficult times it was a joy to know that people are still good people, it appears thats especially where our beloved animals are concerned.

Our vet is a lovely vet, but he is an agricultural vet primarily and after much discussion, taking into account that many people who have had to deal with this disease advised to have his urine tested in a lab and a culture grown, that we are moving to Ireland in ten weeks approx, the complexity of dealing with the disease (if he has it) and the complexity of diagnosis (get it wrong and give him the meds with terrible side effects and it could kill him), and that he would have to be monitored we decided not to go ahead with the test. We feel that for now we have made the right choice. It would appear that Harley does too, as he has stopped drinking as much and has perked right up.

So that will be something to keep my eye on, because we have approximately forty days before we have to leave this house, and there is still so much to do.

A bientot.

Rosie

Run Around Now

11 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, Goodbyes, My family and other furry creatures, My home, new adventures, New Paths, Saying Goodbye, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, Us

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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

Nature reminds me every day….

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by in My home, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The seasons

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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

Living In The Moment: sunny Autumn Days

23 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by in For the live of dogs, My home, poignancy, Reflections, Saying Goodbye, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The seasons

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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

Living In The Moment

21 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by in Belief, Change is a coming, For the live of dogs, mental health, My family and other furry creatures, My home, new adventures, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The seasons

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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

New Horizons

13 Tuesday Oct 2020

Posted by in Change is a coming, Goodbyes, My home, new adventures, New Paths, poignancy, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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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