Natural Allies

Thinking it might rain this morning, I decided to sow some grass seed in the bare patches in front of my house. I won't call it a 'lawn', as it includes mint and oregano, which send up their scent whenever Betty dog runs across. It is pretty rough with weeds and the daisies are welcome here. It does need a bit of help, so I scattered some soil, seed, then more soil and tamped it down with a rake. Half an hour later, I noticed that the seeds were moving! All over the soil and the grass, the seeds were moving across the earth. I looked more closely: ants were carting it about, carrying the dried seed in their jaws in one direction and returning empty jawed in the other. Following their trails, I saw heaps of seed at the entrance to their ant nests; impressive stores, industriously created within half an hour. With such organised team work, I wonder if any will sprout.

Tiny snails clinging to wild love-In-a-mist (Nigella.) They cover many of the plants here like limpets. They also stick to the bonnet of my car and have often survived the long journey to England.

Tiny snails clinging to wild love-In-a-mist (Nigella.) They cover many of the plants here like limpets. They also stick to the bonnet of my car and have often survived the long journey to England.

It is good to keep the grass short here, as a couple of weeks ago, on one of the first warm days, I spotted a baby snake working its way across the ground. I was unsure whether it was an adder or a grass snake as I have never seen such a small one; it measured about seven inches long. A reminder to watch where I step. And then a few days ago, I felt a chill as I saw a scorpion dashing across the floor. I found it remarkable what perfectly straight lines it ran along. 

Bees are swarming around the small pond in the garden. They are drinking there and collecting water to take back to their hives to cool them down. I have to walk past them to go down to the washing line, but they don't seem bothered by me.

The other evening I had an encounter with a flying praying mantis. I felt something large land on my shoulder. I gave a loud squeal and brushed it off. My friend visiting me from Italy helped me put it outside into the night. It was about three inches long and it really startled me. But it was only praying... 

Friends and guests come and go, but it seems I am never really alone! 

Buddha unperturbed by the bees. They fly around him all day. Some of their reflections are visible in the water.

Buddha unperturbed by the bees. They fly around him all day. Some of their reflections are visible in the water.

Last weekend my mission was to plant the tomato plants I had bought from François in the market. Christophe, who helps me out in the garden, had rotivated a strip of ground and dressed it with goats manure. When I went to prepare the soil for the plants, I found it was completely infested with couch grass. I took a fork to it, but soon had to admit defeat. And so it was that I started digging a new and small vegetable patch down by the washing line, working under my straw hat to protect me from the heat, listening to the poet David Whyte speaking with Krista Tippett on the 'On Being' podcast. I heard him talk about how, 'we have so many allies in this world, including just the colour blue in the sky.'

Betty lying amongst the young tomato plants

Betty lying amongst the young tomato plants

Being here, I am so aware of the presence of those allies. The cuckoo calls in the distance. The hoopoe bird softly replies. The nightingales sing day and night, cleansing the air, with each sweet phrase of their liquid song different to the last. Frogs start up in the evening with their alien, sonic sounds reverberating throughout the valley.

Dark brown eagles wheel about in that blue of the sky. The great rocks have been here longer than any living thing.

The air is alive with juniper and warm pine resin, blended with the sweetness of broom and roses, spiced with aromatic wild thyme, mint and oregano. Having spent my first couple of years of my childhood inland from Malaga, I have been longing for those southern scents my whole life.

Many of those creatures are considered enemies: the snake, the scorpion, the bees, the spiders I find in the house. So is the couch grass. When I went to the local garden centre and somebody asked for weedkiller, he was told that no, it was no longer available without having a licence. He was directed to a flame gun. I am loathe to kill any of the creatures, and I definitely don't want to use poisons. I throw spiders out of the windows and even the scorpion was put out of doors with a piece of card and a glass. The ants are everywhere and they come in all sizes. If a crumb of food is left out, they are there. They help motivate me to keep the place clean. If not, it will be the flies coming in. The bees, well they are essential. There isn't much water around, so I will share the pond with them. I hope we can all get along. I'll let you know how it goes.

Spring Vegetable Broth with Pistou

The Ice Saints have been and gone, and just as Josie said it would, the weather has turned warm and it is now safe to plant out the tender vegetables. The other day in the market, I counted sixteen varieties of tomato plants. I am waiting until next week to plant mine out, as my house is crammed with boxes to unpack from my move out here from England.

The broom is blooming yellow in the sun, sending out waves of scent as sweet as honey. The skies are blue, blue, blue. The grass and the weeds are growing visibly under my eyes. The fields are dotted with bright poppies, the butterflies are out, the flies and the swallows are back. The nightingales fill the valley with song, day and night, and the stalls in the market are abundant with vegetables. Each week there is more to choose from; artichokes, asparagus, broad beans, delicious strawberries and lettuces of all types. 

Recently, I ate a delicious spring soup at a local restaurant, which inspired me to make my own. It is a version of Soupe au Pistou, a classic Provençal dish, similar to an Italian minestrone, usually made with beans and potatoes and fine pasta. This one is more of a broth: I have left out the potatoes, the pasta and the dried beans and I have used small artichokes, which are plentiful in the Mediterranean, and asparagus for a spring treat. You could try trimming a couple of large artichokes and chopping the heart up into smaller pieces. Watch out you don't include any choke! Both asparagus and artichokes are naturally cleansing vegetables and very good Spring tonics for the liver. The broad beans I bought in the market were small and tender. The older ones have pale, tough skins and need skinning.This recipe can be adapted to whatever is in season. You could use courgettes, fresh peas, green beans, squash and you could add some tinned cannellini or flageolet beans or potatoes for more substance. The pistou is similar to Italian pesto without the pine nuts. Fresh garlic is excellent in this. 

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I made a vegetable stock, using onion, carrot, celery and celeriac as a base. To this, I added clean potato peelings, spring onion trimmings, the asparagus and some of the artichoke trimmings. Leek trimmings are also good. Don't overdo the artichokes, as they can add a bitter note. The carrot and the onion add the necessary sweetness. The celeriac gives it a full flavour. 

SPRING BROTH WITH PISTOU - 4 helpings

FOR THE STOCK

1/2 Celariac

2 carrots, roughly chopped

I onion, quartered

1 stick of celery

Trimming from potatoes and spring onions, if you have them, or other vegetable trimmings to hand

Artichoke and asparagus trimmings

 

FOR THE SOUP

Asparagus - 8

Artichokes, 5 of the small ones, trimmed into quarters

Young broad beans - a couple of generous handfuls, podded

2 diced carrots

2 thinly sliced spring onions

 

FOR THE PISTOU

Big bunch of basil

100ml olive oil

A little grated parmesan

Cover the vegetables for the stock with about 1 1/2 litres of cold water and leave to simmer for a few hours. Add a couple of teaspoons of salt and strain.

Cut the tough ends off the asparagus and trim the artichokes - small ones if you can find them - quarter them, cut the top third off, peel of the tough outer leaves and trim away the chokes, leave attached and peel a section of the stalk. (See below)

Make the pistou: Put a good handful of basil into a blender with 100 ml of olive oil with a desertspoon of freshly grated parmesan and a pressed clove of garlic. Blitz throughly.

 

Add the quartered artichokes to the broth and simmer for 2 minutes.

Add the asparagus and the carrots and simmer for another 2 minutes.

Add the broad beans and the spring onions and simmer for another 2 minutes.

 

Season with salt and pepper.

 

Place the vegetables in the bowls and ladle broth on top. Serve with the pistou.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Liberté, Fraternité, Égalité and Sentimentalité

Robert and his free range eggs

Robert and his free range eggs

Sunday is market day in the village. The sun was out after the thunderstorms and heavy rain of yesterday, and the cafe overlooking the square was filling up. First stop was with Robert, the egg man. 

'These eggs will make you feel happy,' he said, smiling broadly. Only two days ago, I had been reading that eating eggs increases dopamine in the body, which makes one feel more happy and motivated,

'And are the chickens happy?' I asked. '

'Absolument.  They peck about outside in the grass all day. Please come and visit them and the ducks anytime.' As he picked out twelve eggs stuck with straw, he explained where he lives in the village. He did look piratically happy as he kissed the regulars on both cheeks. 

My friend, Elizabeth and I had another invitation from François, who grows organic vegetables, to visit his farm next Saturday. His stall was loaded with vibrantly healthy vegetables, including broad beans, beetroot, radishes and frilly lettuces, as well as vegetable plants for the garden. My neighbour, Josie, had already warned me not to plant anything out until after the 13th May as tomatoes and other tender plants are not safe until after the last of the Ice Saints days, les saints de glace, has been and gone. François scribbled complicated directions to his place on the back of my shopping list. I hope I can find it!

François' vegetables

François' vegetables

As I was taking photographs of the market, a voice behind me pronounced, 'photographs are sentimental, Madame.' I turned around. A man, well dressed in tweed, was smiling wryly at me. I smiled back. 'Not always,' I said. But I have to admit that he has a point. It can be tempting to edit Provence down to garish lavender fields and sunlit hills. And yet those things are there. Just know that in the moment I pressed the shutter on these delicious olives, the stall holder cried out, 'merde!' as the pesky wind blew over the canopy. As my mother says, (she lived here for over fifteen years) 'Haute Provence ain't the Riviera!'

When I went to join Elizabeth at the cafe, I spotted this shopping on a neighbouring table. Sentimental? Maybe. Posed? Non! 

France goes to the polls today. Provence is solid Le Pen territory. Reillanne and Forcalquier are rich with artists and creatives and have a vibrant counter culture. These three beauties sang Italian Resistance songs at the top of their voices in the market. I'm crossing everything for Macron.