Le Couvent Diary

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.