LIVING out my DAYS IN 22: Spring has arrived in St André

The primulas and pansies are planted and seem to have survived the cold snap we had at the beginning of the week. The daffodils are excelling themselves in all the lanes around here and in my garden and brighten up any dull days. Small trees in the lanes are covered in tiny white flowers sparkling like starlight. The bees are loving it.

It is the blackthorn – sloes in the Autumn - which is always out early in the year and when you look closely, has a really beautiful little flower.

An English neighbour with a second home here came to supper on Sunday last and we caught each other up with news of our primary home territories. He brought me some much-needed fast acting yeast so I can continue with familiar ingredients for my bread making.

The buttermilk plant continues to thrive and I have now baked twice using the liquid produced. On the first dough made had a much faster rise than usual during proving but on baking it was disappointing.

The second session was much more successful and here is the proof!

Lovely surprise to hear from, Wendy and Brett, my NZ housecarers from two years ago, I love it when people keep in touch. Wendy is completing a book for each year showing their stays in different parts of the world and St André features on a double page spread!

Following the bad experience last month of not being able to cook anything during the 55 hours power cut, I have bought a second hand bottled gas hob. I hope to have it installed in the garage in a movable unit so that in future I will not starve when EDF fails to provide a service.

There was a knock on my drive side window one evening last week. When I went out, a stranger with two dogs was holding one of my buff cochins in his arms – dead. He was so apologetic, the black lab had got to it before he could do anything and it was all over very quickly. I was just grateful that he had told me instead of walking off. He was distraught and asked what he could do. I told him “c’est la vie” “pas de problème” and tried to smile reassuringly. He said he would come and see me again if he was coming this way. Later in the evening Jan, as he was called, drove back from St Nicolas du Pélem, with a bottle of red for me, so that was kind, and more profuse apologies.

Four of the seven remaining hens were back for the night but the other three must have shot off in various directions when the attack took place and were hiding out. While my neighbour and I were looking for them we discovered a clutch of hen eggs which the girls must have been laying for weeks without me knowing.

I’d no idea how old they were so I cracked them individually before cooking up for the giving back to the hens. All the eggs were good – amazingly. I don't give shells as I have had lots of hens who've thought egg eating is a good idea so I avoid giving shells now.

Thank goodness I had moved to the field, on Sunday evening, the three black and white cochins because I have guests in the gite and I didn’t want the cockerel to wake them. The missing hens were finally rounded up by me, my French neighbours and Mark, who's over from the UK in his holiday home. They spent the night safely back in their house. It could have all been so much worse. What a day!

We had our Social Group lunch at Auberge de Guerledan again on Friday and my lunch was paté de campagne, turkey in a cream sauce and crème brulée with the usual glass or two of rosé. The little moulded thing at the back left was a sort of set eggy mix with mushrooms and surprisingly tasty.

Afterwards, Laura and I walked slightly further down the lane to become students for the afternoon. We had enrolled in a Glass Class at La Verrière de Guerledan and three hours of concentration ahead. It was a steep learning curve, but I enjoyed starting learning a new craft and especially the homemade flapjacks. It was the first lesson in a batch of ten taking place once a month and Sue MacGilivray, is a kind, patient and interesting teacher.

There has been a lot of tree and branch felling everywhere and this week it was the turn of our hamlet. Here is Francoise at the top of a cherry picker trimming a tree on Mark's boundary, the first of many branches removed further down the lane.

Here are muscari in my garden. I only planted them last year and can't believe how much they have spread.

This is a peep into the garden of Christian and Paulette, neighbours, with their beautiful spring flowers along their conservatory path.

On a whim, I set off up the lane opposite the calvaire at lunchtime to see where Les Hauteurs de du Pélem were exactly.

Well - it was a tough climb for me in unsuitable loose clog type rubber shoes, but such a beautiful day that I kept going. It certainly reached heights and the views were good.

I ended up walking back along the lanes so I didn't have to come down the steep track, with running water, and it was a good decision.