Jesus and Moon Flowers

Opening the shutters, I saw my surroundings for the first time this morning. ...

The apartment ( holiday house = gite ) is a renovated “Pressoir”, part of a winemaking establishment. It is stone and ancient timbers, tiled floors and lots of space. There are other out-buildings which have also been converted to apartments........

The amazing grand old house is now lived in by the Australian/UK-NZ owners.



A garage which was part of the winery, has several floors and wonderful timber beams and a vast doorway which leads through to a completely unsuspected parklike garden spanning some several acres with some very elderly trees, and cow fields beyond complete with cows.

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As I’ve been discovering, so many houses look like blank walls on the street with shuttered windows, and you have no idea what magical rooms and gardens they actually hide. My kitchen window looks out onto the main road. Out the back I’d be surprised if there weren’t deer grazing after dusk.

A folder in the apartment describes a lovely one hour walk. Out the gate, up along the road opposite, bend around and pass the Monastery. Then look for Jesus. When you find Jesus, turn left, follow the road past the 12C church, turn left at the village square, and you are home again.

Amazing old houses started as soon as I was out the door.

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It was BEAUTIFUL. I loved it. I guess the flatness and deciduous trees reminded me of where I grew up. I felt really happy. Walking and being in such surroundings make me feel wonderful.

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There was a lot of maize which is used as fodder for the cattle during winter, but my eye was caught by reddish-orange splotches amongst the green. Sure enough, there were poppies! I was enchanted.

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Stands of poplars mesmerised.

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Some white flowers looked like morning glories, but now I think they were Moon Flowers. I have a vine at home- the most wonderful flowers, they open at dusk at such speed that you can see them unfolding. They release a puff of perfume which is said to attract the particular beetle who pollinates them. More magic.




A 12th Century Church looked its age, and there was a taste of the patterned tiled rooves which the region is known for. By those who know about them. Other tossing and turning rumpled and crumpled slate rooves supported crazy landscapes of lichens and mosses.

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I was confused about actual village names but it turned out I was in ours and only a few houses away from where I’m staying when I found a park bench under shelter to read the map (it was raining), thinking I’d somehow taken a wrong turn and was in the next one.

I tried a bike but either the seats aren’t made like they used to be or I’m not made like I used to be and I’ve decided to walk. It’s about an hour to walk into the closest town where there are shops, and I’ll take a taxi home if the wine is too heavy. Tomorrow- I’m going to look for a French person.