Le Couvent Diary

For some months the dogs have been intrigued by the presence of an, until now unseen, inhabitant in the vineyard mazet. A beautiful stoat.

 

 

But yesterday we saw her for several seconds while she dashed about trying to pass us.

Unfortunately it was too quick for me to fire off my camera, so this picture is pinched from It's Nature .   We're thrilled to have Hermine the ermine staying with us and hope that neither of the dogs will have a go at her. I suspect her teeth are fearsome and they may come off worse than she does.

I've been checking out a few facts about stoats. In French they are les hermines and in English stoat are called ermine when they go white in winter. The young in English are called kit. I had a favourite great-grandmother called Ermine and we have a dog called Kit, so there's a sweet serendipity.

It's be good if she stopped using the mazet roof beam as her loo though.

Great, the volunteers are coming, so we'll get tons of jobs done in the vineyard. All we have to do is sit back and watch them work right? No, no and no. Volunteer week is the first time in the year when we re-open the house, so during the two weeks prior to the vollies arriving Ali and I have to get everything ready. Here's a rough breakdown of what that means.

Six bedrooms and their bathrooms are cleaned and aired, beds made up and towels, loo rolls and the like all in place. The big kitchen downstairs takes a day to clean. (We don't use it in the winter as we live in our apartment.) Menus, recipes and shopping lists are prepared for a week's worth of breakfasts, lunches and dinners for up to 16 people. The shopping takes two days. Gas bottles for the cooker and heaters are refilled. The boiler-man has been to service our workhorse that provides hot showers and underfloor central heating.

 

 

 

So far four of the seven lunchtime soups which will be served hot in the vineyard have been made and are sitting in a neighbour's freezer as ours are all choc-a-bloc. The tea, coffee and milk are in the vineyard caravan, Olive, ready for morning breaks. Ali has yet to go and buy the wine. 16 people x 7 evenings. So how much is that then?

 

 

 

Then there's the machinery. Queenie the quad's been serviced and her trailer has a new wheel after we melted the old one to extinction; the yellow muncher vineyard mower has had a new skirt and sharpened blade; the two heavy duty strimmers have been sharpened petrol-filled and oiled, eight pairs of loppers have been sharpened and oiled, as have four pairs of secateurs. Two axes have had the same treatment. Hoes have been tested and five new ones bought. The generator has been serviced. The van's been serviced. The ride-on mower has been serviced. Six containers of petrol and two stroke have been filled. Trees have been ordered.

 

 

 

Yesterday I serviced the chainsaw. It had stopped working and only when I took it apart did I realise a bit was missing. Three minutes of searching in the shingle where I'd last used it and I discovered the vital screw. So now that's sorted out. All the tools have been assembled ready to lob in the van, land-rover and trailers  - to be transported to the vineyard. 15 pairs of gardening gloves and extra protective gear are ready in a box.

Now we just have to sort out a bit of evening entertainment to keep the vollies amused, have haircuts (so it doesn't get caught in the chainsaw) and we're ready. Phew. Sometimes it feels as though we've already done the major part before the vollies arrive! Now just keep your fingers crossed that the weather picks up. It's warmed up quite a bit, but we're having rotten rainstorms and we need brilliant sunshine to keep us all happy. It would be great if it shone on our parade.

It's been a long time since the last post. August has been our busiest month of the season - not only choc-a-bloc with B&B guests, but also with our grape harvest and wine-making. After the heavy rains in April we had a diminished number of tiny grape florets, already reduced by the after effects of the terrible hail storm last September. This summer has also been officially heatwave hot, so the result for us has been a tiny harvest of very early ripening grapes. We ended up with just three trailer loads like this. A ridiculously small harvest from 2.5 hectares.

 

 

We picked during the third week of August - at least a fortnight early. Since then we have moved our wine-making operation to Le Couvent, where we now have a miniature cave, complete with fermentation tanks and all the paraphernalia you need to make wine.

 

 

Thanks to help from several unsuspecting, yet willing, guests and friends we got our meagre harvest picked in record time, over three early mornings, before the temperatures began to soar.

 

 

Since then we have completed the initial fermentation on two of our three cuvées and will work on the third today. After that it's just a question of regular checking that all is OK until the spring, when a secondary fermentation should take place.

 

The good news is that people seem to really like the wine from last year's fated harvest - L'Orage, a blend made on the hoof while we were picking, Syrah, Cinsault & Grenache. But the truth will be known when our lovely Master of Wine pal, Rosemary George , tastes it on Sunday evening. I'm nervous.

With just over three weeks to go before the end of our season, and a fully booked B&B, I'd be lying if I said Ali and I weren't a bit tired. But reserves get tapped at this time of the year, and we have such lovely guests that it's easy to rise to the occasion. We seem to have laughed our way through the summer thanks to some very funny people, especially all the jolly Americans and Canadians who've pitched up at Le Couvent. Thank you all!

 

If you'd like to know how the wine's progressing click the picture below>>>>

 

 

Well, at 4.30 I went to inspect the vines and am happy to say that they looked OK. The skies were charcoal and lightning cracked over the hills. Kit the labrador was scared witless and Flynn the husky thought it all rather a good jape.

On the way home the hail fell once more, but I'm hoping it all holds together. This is a photo of the vine buds.

 

 

 

 

Around lunchtime I wandered across the bridge and took some photos around the Le Couvent garden. Everything is in the fullest flower and looking absolutely gorgeous.

 

 

 

 

But just 40 minutes later the sky darkened and down came a waterfall of rain and hail.

 

 

 

 

Now rain is one thing, but regular readers will know that hail is the very thing us wine-makers hate. At the moment our white grapes are at the stage where the tiniest pre-bunches are just about to start coming into flower. For every future individual grape there is a flower. Hail is nothing but a bully, smashing anything as tender as a grape bud to smithereens. No flowers, no grapes. I haven't been up to the vineyards to check yet, but I'm uncharacteristically pessimistic after the loss of last year's crop to hail the night before the harvest.

I'll let you know. Of course the sun is shining again now, as if nothing ever happened. Harrumph.

The forecast has been dreadful for the past few days, but the heavy rains just haven't come - yet. So this week we have taken up 450 vines that were on a slope too steep to manage. We're wimps really, the old boy who used to own our vines did it all by himself with the aid of a mule. Having nearly lost Queenie the Quad on an escarpment we gave up on the Cinsault vines at the top of the amphitheatre. So they've been pulled up.

But today was bright, hot and sunny so, albeit too late in the Spring, I planted two plum trees, one more cherry and three peaches. If the forecast rains come the trees will get a decent start. If it just turns hot I may lose them, but they were cheap so I'm giving them a whirl.

Around here they say if you can see snow on the Pyrrenees it's going to rain within three days. This photo was taken this morning at Rochelongue by my good friend Chris Kemp. Looks like the trees may get their chance.

 

 

Wow, it seems ages since I last wrote a post. Meanwhile Ali's been to Western Australia to see her family - and I took the opportunity to organise a couple of surprises for her return. We have a friend who says I move the house three inches when Ali's away, but this time I managed 4 metres. Yep, the bridge between the convent and the garden has finally been constructed, some three years after we first thought about it. It is just wonderful to be able to walk from our apartment straight to the garden. We're both thrilled. Huge thanks to the Welder-Beast and Teddy.

 

 

The second surprise has been installed in the vineyard and is a real treat. Whenever we have a bit of time during the closed season Ali and I camp in the mazet (Chateau Malaudos ). But, to be frank, sleeping on a stone slab has quickly lost its appeal. So I've bought an ancient caravan to keep hidden in amongst the olive trees. She's 25 years old - at least - and we've painted her the colour of the surrounding foliage and soil. So now she's called Olive. Best of all she has comfortable beds and a gas cooker. I love having the open fire beside the mazet, but it's a fag to light a big fire when all you need is a quick coffee whilst working on the vines.

There's nothing better than breakfast in the middle of a vineyard in the warm sunshine of a March morning. Can you smell the bacon?

 

 

 

 

On Thursday we returned home to Le Couvent, the best B&B in the Languedoc (shameless plug), to find vast bag full of wild asparagus on the doorstep. Our kind neighbours over the road had been out foraging and had left them for us as a thanks for some eggs we'd left on their doorstep. Oooh, they are sooo delicious. We had lots gently steamed with a smoked salmon bake the other evening and I made a couple of Wild Asparagus and Cheddar quiches for the freezer - using our hens' wonderful eggs of course.

 

 

 

 

 

Cooking has been made even more pleasurable this week as the lovely Teddy made me a new chopping board.

 

 

 

 

I'm sure he'd make you one too if you like. Just let me know what size and I'll ask him.

In the evenings we can now hear the Scops Owl doing its impression of a car alarm and I've seen my first Hoopoe of the season. Ali and I both have agricultural tans from pottering about in the vineyard kitchen garden and the temperature hovers around 21 during the day. So Spring has definitely sprung.

I'm too fat. It's not my diet that's hugely at fault, it's that I eat hugely too much. This morning, in the shower, I realised why. I walk about smelling food all the time, even when there's none about - and it's all the fault of body products. The ones you carry on the outside. My shampoo smells of berries, the conditioner of coconut. My perfume whiffs of lime, basil and mandarin and the toothpaste is undeniably mint ice-cream. So how am I supposed to make my subconscious step away from the food? Can one still buy Wright's coal tar and Lifebuoy?

 

 

Yesterday I had a great time sowing a kilo of wild flower seeds at Chateau Malaudos. Some of them won't produce anything until next Spring, but what a lovely surprise when they do.

 

 

Yesterday was the first day this year that Ali and I found ourselves in our vineyards with no vital work to be done. All the pruning is finished, the fruit trees have been treated and pruned, the wild bits have been mildly tamed and everywhere is looking just gorgeous. OK, there are still about five square metres of the potager to weed, but there's no hurry.

 

So we took time to relax in the glorious sunshine at the top of the amphitheatre. Our stone seat there has a new name - The Lap of the Gods. We took sunbeds and squidgy cushions and flopped out under a blue blue sky and the only sounds were a zillion birds and the drone of the occasional small plane - and me snoring. Even Kit gave up her irritating guard-bark.

 

 

A halcyon day.

 

We're now into our second week of volunteers and I thought I'd drop in a quick word between all our guest bloggers. If you'd like to see what they've been doing you'll need to have a look at their diary .

When Ali and I bought the vineyard we've named Chateau Malaudos we thought it was beautiful. Abandoned for at least three years, it looked tired and neglected, but you could see those high cheekbones and exquisite structure nevertheless. However, we had no idea what a sleeping beauty the land really was until our volunteers started work. They've lifted off the dead skin, plucked her eyebrows, removed the blemishes, pulled the hairs from her chin, moisturised and given her some beautiful earrings. She has had a stunning new haircut and, needing no clothes, has revealed the body of a goddess. I think we're all thrilled at the revelation brought about by the volunteers and their fantastic work. Ali and I certainly don't have words enough to express our thanks adequately.

Each day two of our volunteers were responsible for preparing breakfast and dinner. For many this was the first time they had cooked for more than four - we were frequently at least 12 at the table.

 

 

Someone was always responsible for ensuring the dogs didn't get too stressed. 

 

So many excellent meals demanded hefty work to burn off the calories.

 

 

 

And when the volunteers had had enough of one job there were plenty of tools ready to start the next one.

 

 

But it hasn't been all work. On Saturday afternoon we all had a go at archery. It wasn't a wild success in the scoring department, although a couple of us did finally hit the target. Everyone seemed to enjoy the experience nevertheless.

 

 

 

 

Ali and I realised a long held plan when the first week's team painted a quotation from 14th century anchorite Dame Julian of Norwich on the wall of Le Couvent. It reads 'all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well'.

We have just two more working days to go and our list has been well bitten into. Today is a day of rest and our current team has gone off to explore; some to the Mediterranean coast, others to St Guilhem le Desert, and one couple are travelling about chewing over the notion of finding a second home here. Meanwhile Ali and I catch up on e-mails, clean up our neglected apartment and plan her forthcoming trip to see her family in Australia. It's been an extraordinary two weeks.

Our first team of volunteers has arrived and we're into our second day of work. Our time is divided betwen Le Couvent, where we've started working on the garden, pruning, weeding, clearing and tidying - and Chateau Malaudos where we've been today.

Our wonderful team of Jane, Marianne, Douggie, Caroline,  Chris, Sue, Sharon, Paula - along with Ali and I - chew up the work so fast I'm hoping there will be enough work for our next team which arrives next week. 

 

 

The volunteers also take turns to prepare breakfast and supper  and they are going to contribute to this blog and the one for Chateau Malaudos. We hope you enjoy following their progress.

 

Our first volunteer blogger is Chris.

My first thought when I opened my eyes this morning was that waking up on the first day of volunteer week with a more than slight hangover probably wasn't the brightest thing to do. Ah ...the perils of staying up (very) late with Ali B and limitless red wine.

We met with  a small hiccup when Lizzie came hot footing it back from the road up to the mazet and told us that EDF had closed the road for "Le maintenence essentiel" and that we couldn't get the vehicles up there. A smart bit of sweet talking by Lizzie saved the day and they downed tools for a short while to let us pass. Fleeting thoughts of going back to bed were dashed.

By 11am were all in position. Douggie, Caroline , Paula, Marianne and Sharon were pruning and strimming the last of the vines in the amphitheatre. Sue , Jane and I were spraying the vines near the potager - I thought it best to try and avoid any sharp implements early in the day.  Ali B went roaring off on the quad to try and find another route into the mazet as the road would be completely closed tomorrow. 

After a quick lunch of yummy soup made by the lovely Debbi  we were up and at 'em again and Sue and I pruned the olives while the others hacked, sawed, raked, sprayed and sweated. Layers of clothes were fast being discarded  as the sun came out and warmed us gently.

 

 

We then all set to clearing the path around the back of the amphitheatre and I was deemed sober enough to play with the petrol strimmer. It took about two hours but it is beginning to look great. Douggie, Caroline and Sharon did a fine job recovering the stone steps up to the next level.

 

 

There were lots of hot, red faces and aching limbs by the end of the day from our exertions but also a wonderful sense of satisfaction gained from really making a difference and working in such a beautiful place. Can't wait until tomorrow. But maybe less wine for me this evening!

 

By popular request we've offered an alternative date in February 2009 to come to help at Le Couvent, Roujan. If you're up for some fun and hard work in the vineyards and here in the old house, do take a look at this page . We've had volunteers apply from several other countries, so the talk should be good and the jokes multi-lingual/cultural.

Don't hold back - this will be an extraordinarily interesting week/fortnight. You'll learn loads and get fitter into the bargain.

There's nothing like a bit of teamwork for getting things done.

 

 

 

This is the scene that greeted us this morning. We have almost nothing left. Last night we had the most enormous rain and hailstorm. We spent the morning in the roof repairing a leak, then went to the cave co-operative to see if they had a date for the harvest. 'Have you looked at your vines yet? We have an emergency and if you have more than 20% hail damage you can harvest all your grapes now, whatever variety' We shot up to the vineyards and were greeted by scenes of devastation. A tornado had passed and ripped off every bunch of grapes and the plum-sized hailstones had shredded of every bit of leaf on 95% of the vines. In the picture above you can see one bunch of grapes caught in the branches of the vine. All the others have been ripped off and carried off by the deluge to God knows where. There's no sign of them here.

 

 

 

Not a pretty sight eh? There is barely a leaf left on any of the vines. The only vines with any grapes left on are the Syrah and Cinsault in the amphitheatre. All the vines on the upper slopes are completely naked.