I love hares, perhaps it is the Irish in me, as hares are revered in Ireland, seen as a communicator with the other world of the little people: faeries and leprechauns. But I really fell in love with them when I moved to France: I was up early and driving along one of the long country lanes on a sunny morning, taking care I was driving at about thirty miles an hour when I looked out of my open car window to see a hare running along the hedgerow right beside the car, keeping up with it. It was a sight to behold, a big animal full of power, and it was at that point that my fascination, and utmost respect for hares began.
As Easter approached this week it was also a full moon, and on Friday Rich and I were up and out early, very early. Europe is experiencing really good weather and even at seven in the morning it was already twenty two degrees. The sun was shining, and France is in bloom, and as we drove down our long lane from our house we were met with the sight of two hares boxing in the middle of the road.
As we stopped and watched they ran off (or hared off as the saying goes) into the field in flight; truly, truly amazing. But that was not all: on our journey through the winding lanes of France we saw another five hares, in the fields, in the hedgerows, to the point that I turned to Rich and said ‘ it must be a hare convention!’
Hares are revered by many cultures: they represent positive change, because of their connection to spring; and new beginnings. In Ireland they are a protected species and were featured on their half pence coin until it went out of circulation. Perhaps my love for hares and the abundance of sightings is telling us that we should consider that move to Ireland after all – we are still not ruling that out. To have a hare cross your path is a sign that you will receive abundance and joy; as we have had five cross ours then I am in no doubt that is the case for us.
Rich’s business has taken off (with a small amount of help from his social media savvy and writer wifey) he has bookings into June now with more to come. My book is nearly fully edited with some additions because of the research and wonderful comments from people who follow my blog: over 40,000 views and counting. I promised my dear late friend in my last post that I would get my book out there and I will. you can read that post here I aim for it to be available in the autumn for all the people who have asked where they can buy it.
The evening before our sojourn with the hares the moon had risen full and red over the fields, and I thought back to the posts where I have said that I am not sure if living here for me holds enough, but that I would wait and life would show me the way: it seems to be, at the moment. Later that night though Rich had an experience with the werehare!
My husband is over six feet tall and weighs over eighteen stone (I am being kind here). I went to bed with the Welshies and he went outside for his last cigarette. The moon was full and our cat Daisy was sat on our drive with wild staring eyes and her tail puffed up to four times its normal size. Rich spooks easily with regard to anything unexplained or supernatural; so he looked at Daisy and realised something was wrong. Then he heard a noise of something very large snuffling behind our hedge; he turned to Daisy and said ‘what the f**k is that?’ Daisy responded by high-tailing it indoors. On the sound of Rich’s voice whatever it was ran across the garden quickly and loudly, and Rich could hear something heavy stomping on the oak logs. With that he high tailed it indoors, made sure all the cats were inside and locked the door. (He is so brave!)
When he came to bed he told me the story; I was just glad that Wiglet the serial killer had not been out there as chaos would have ensued. Rich was clearly spooked and proceeded to build up a pile of pillows down the side of the bed by the door to stop any ‘ghosts’ getting him in the night (didn’t realise that pillows were a ghost deterrent!) We then discussed that it could have been a deer or a wild boar, or even a fox but that seemed unlikely with the dogs scent. Neither of us thought that it may have been a hare, moonwatching from the pinnacle of the hill on which our house is perched.
As I turned off the lights I then said ‘it could have been a werefwolf, it is a full moon!’ To which my husband replied in a wail ‘Why would you say that man? Stop trying to frighten me!’ I giggled and said ‘well we are in the middle of nowhere, perhaps all the neighbours are werewolves and we are living in the midst of a werewolf colony!’
Rich then shut the door!
So the next morning when we saw all the hares I realised it was probably a hare, or as I said to Rich: ‘perhaps it was a werehare!’
I am sorry I have been absent from Mois French Adventure, folks but I will be sharing some more posts with you this week, but I know you understand that the book has taken priority.
Have a wonderful Easter weekend.