Generous Autumn.

I know I'm repeating myself, but so do the seasons, and so do the season's harvests.

We don't eat many Chestnuts.

I half-inch a few pockets-full, which we really enjoy when they first start to fall, then the next time we eat them will be at Christmas, with the Turkey.

Today is our local Chestnut Fair. I shall take a few snaps and maybe show you, tomorrow, how obsessive we all are about these little beauties.

Apart from Chestnuts, the other thing that always amazes me, at this time of year, is the colour of the Ferns. That amazing copper/bronze colour is just staggering. Unfortunately not something that can be best shown via a €70 camera. 

The Wonderful Parasol.

The Parasol mushroom is one of the very best eating mushrooms. Unfortunately many people just kick at them, and refer to them as 'toadstools'.

They are also one of the most easily recognisable varieties; they are huge. If you're a débutante amateur mycologist it's worth making a close study of them; this is certainly the baby to kick-off with.

Try to find them still not fully opened, chuck the stem, and fry gently in Olive oil and Butter (don't add garlic). Torn into bits, they make a great omelet.

Monty, as you can see above, is not in the slightest bit interested in mushrooms.

                                                  

This watercolour of a Parasol is by Lady Magnon. Nice work.

I thought I'd Seen Everything!

There's no school for children in France on Wednesdays, so why not take them for a bike ride instead.

This is our lovely new-ish neighbour, Corrine, taking two of her three children off for a bit of exercise.

But, hang-on; what's that white thing behind them?

Lord-luvva-duck; it's the family's pet goose going for a walk as well. 

I've seen all sorts of animals going for walks, but NEVER a goose.

It takes all sorts!

3 Useful Bridges.

In medieval times they didn't muck about. If you wanted to control passage either across a river, or along a river, you built one of these.

                                  

The Monnow Bridge, Monmouth, Wales. Built in the Late 13th Century.

                                 

The Pont Valentré, Cahors, France. Built in the mid 14th Century. Quite near to where I live.

                                 

And the Porte des Allemands, Metz, in the Lorraine N E France. Built in the13th Century.

You'd have no chance of getting under or across any of these bridges uninvited! Just imagine the loot or taxes they must have collected. Bonanza time!

Knowing one's limits.

This may look like any old stone sticking up from the ground, but it is in fact a boundary stone (I'd recently seen another splendid one, but can't find it again; hence this poor replacement photo).

These stones date back to 'ancient' times, and are probably (in most cases) no longer relevant.

Known here as a borne they were placed on top of the ashes of a fire within a pit; the disturbance of which would, at any later date, hopefully show if the stone had been moved. Boundary moving was a hanging offence.

The art of land-measurement has become more precise over the centuries, and is now done by clever surveyors with laser measuring devices and satellite navigation; rather than by estimation, memory, good eyesight, and crossed fingers

Some things do not improve however, and here is a modern example of a borne. A deep metal spike with a bright orange horrid plastic lollipop top as the visual marker.

I know which one I prefer, even if the earlier version was placed as the result of either mutual agreement, or a fight.

Cantal.

Frankly, Cantal cheese has always been a bit of a wishy-washy, rather tasteless, version of English Cheddar.

There are 3 versions of Cantal; jeune (1-2 months old), entre deux (2-6 months old), and vieux (more than 6 months old). The old is usually sold under the name of Salers (see here)

I think that someone must recently have been having a wee word in the major Cantal producers ears, because over the last couple of years the entre deux has radically improved and become a much more rounded cheese. There is often a slight blush of blue towards the exterior crust, which is usually a good sign of flavour; and the cheese texture itself has now become crumbly, whereas before it was soapy. Maybe they are now keeping it for the full 6 months, instead of flogging it off at 2.

Cantal is the standard cheese of France. It is eaten in sandwiches, thrown into omelets, and grated over anything that requires a cheesy topping. It's the standby cheese that is usually found in every French fridge.

I recommend the entre deux, but only if your local shop has run-out of good Mature Cheddar!

Copious Precipitation.

                                        

It's been bloody pouring here all day, and with two large dogs in the house someone just HAS to go out in it.

I quite like looking at rain, and I certainly like hearing rain, but getting wet in it has never held any appeal.

Today was the day for a tiny nearby village's annual 'Chestnut Fair', but I imagine it was a washout; WE certainly didn't go. I always feel sorry for the organisers of such events; as, after all their hard work, no-one turns up.

So, what to do on such days as these? Well I suggest that tradition has the answer. Comfy slippers, blazing fire, dogs curled up by the hearth, the sweet smell of teatime Welsh Cakes emanating from the kitchen, maybe a snooze amongst the sofa's deep down-filled cushions, that'll do for a start.

And it's no use you two whimpering like that, WE'RE NOT GOING OUT!

Oh, all right then; but if I get pneumonia......