Chickens, Harleys and Cherry Pips

How often do I stop and reflect and think to myself, 'well, that was a funny old week?'

We've just completed two back to back art courses here with amazing tutor Nicola Slattery (who will be back in 2012 so watch this space). What better way to unwind than to attend a bikers party at our new neighbours farm. Our neighbours love motor bikes and their friends seem to be, for the most part, Hell's Angels (or at least lookalikes) but we had our invitation and we wanted to welcome them properly to this special part of the world. We took along friends who are visiting from the UK (safety in numbers) and as we strolled the half mile down the road, bikes roared past reminiscent of early shots in The Rocky Horror Show.

A nicer bunch of people you couldn't hope to meet. As the evening wore on more and more people wanted to try out their English on us and we were soon making friends left, right and centre. Pit Bull, a 'non standard' Harley rider from the Alsace, regaled us with tales of derring do which often concluded with the phrase 'kiss my wheel'. As the hostess fretted about the lack of salad, Mark turned to me and whispered that everyone seemed to be doing very well thank you, on the great platters of meat that weighed down the trestle tables.

Then the gauntlet was thrown down, a challenge - England v France, cherry stone spitting. well, I know I shouldn't get involved but I find it almost impossible to resist a challenge. To the utter dismay of my friend we stepped up to the mark and popped the first of our cherries into our mouths. A platter had been set about 4ft away and the aim was to land your pip on target. The first round saw everyone spitting wide. Round three saw me hit my rhythm and my pip landed smack in the middle of the plate before bouncing out agai. Valerie, a petite biker from Alsace saw her chance and landed a pip on point. Pipped at the post, I felt gutted but offered my congratulations before heading for home.

We needed to be up early the next day to check out the chickens at louhans market. Mark has built the best chicken house in the world and now the search for it's lucky inhabitants begins. Confronted by thousands of feathered friends, hundreds of breeders and hoards of crowds, we felt quite overwhelmed. I was distracted by the rabbits and goats and by a stall with a variety of animals, all in miniature. We soon got into the swing of asking about egg production, laying life expectancy, food and preferred conditions and found we agreed on what makes a good looking chicken. we've narrowed our list of potential new family members down to 6 breeds and will make our final selection in August.

On our return home we were pleased to welcome a couple of the bikers from the night before who wanted to stop by to say hello before heading off, a great photo opportunity for our Burgundy Bike Breaks.

Catch up

Gosh! Where did March and April go? We've been having a lovely, albeit busy, time since I last blogged so I thought I'd better update with what we've been up to. This time of year is usually the calm before the (welcome) storm of guests who come to attend one of our courses, join one of our retreats, simply rent the space or pass through on motorbikes: details of all of these can be found http://www.thereallybigdreamcompany.com/

However, we've been fortunate to have our families and friends staying here on and off for several weeks (March, April) so have been dividing our time between catching up on all those out doors jobs (preparing the veggie patch, laying concrete, building a hen house, painting fences, harvesting nettles - more of this later) and having a thoroughly excellent time being site see-ers.
It's true of a lot of us that when you live somewhere amazing, you rarely actually go and visit all that the area has to offer. Two of our first time visits I'll share with you now. Not 15 minutes from our front door is the lovely Chateau de Dree. We pitched up on a gorgeous, sunny afternoon and whilst the Mums sat in the rose garden soaking up the rays, Mark, his Dad, Adam and I explored the 17th century house. A picture of Queen victoria adorned the entrance hall so we felt right at home and we marvelled at the collection of chamber pots, bathroom (complete with six baths of varying size) and views from the windows.

A little further from home are the Cascades d'herrison, dramatic waterfalls during the winter and breathtaking iced stalagtites when it's really cold, we only got to see a trickle (we've had a heat wave for two months) so had to draw on our imaginations to fill in the gaps where the water should have been. The ride over, we took our motor bike, was great though and we will certainly go back after the rain.

The other event in April that made me smile was the royal wedding. The Brits do ceremony well and I say any excuse to have a party. There was one potential hitch, accoring to French law, the flying of any national flags other than the tricoleur is forbidden without permission from the mayor. Not wishing to miss out on flying some bunting, I hastily scrawled a note to our leader and received a charming responce not only giving permission for us to fly our Union Jacks with vigour, but also wishing Wills and Kate a long and happy life together - I'll pass the sentiments on.

Back to the nettle harvest, living in the country fills me with joy and discovering new recipes from the produce around the house gives me a great deal of fulfilment. Last years Lavender lemonade went down a storm and I hope to eclipse this with my Elderflower cordial. But the surprise for me was finding out just how tasty (and nutrious) nettles are. In my previous life as a city girl, I would have bet against the chances of me ever picking, cooking and eating nettles in this life time. Never say Never!

The last photo is of my irises - much more pretty than nettles (though not as flavoursome!)