OVER A WEEK NOW it's being doing it. Mistralising. Frankly I have had quite enough of it. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn’t render the environment so dashed nippy; brilliant light with strictly limited cloudage, but one's energy is sapped and one's wardrobe is barely adequate to keep the icy blast away from one's epidermis. 1rueFB's central heating has been put to the test alright (and fortunately has proved up to the task, thank heavens we recharged the oil tank last autumn, I'll not-so-readily mutter darkly about our archaic system again despite oil prices that stun). I can't really convey wind in pictures. Take it as read.
For one reason or another this wind chill factor has exacerbated the handful of reasons for our tardiness in getting out. Not altogether unreasonably: single figure temperatures all day fgs. But this morning Mme Melling and I decided we would, breeze or not, break cover, albeit only locally. So it was Rasteau that witnessed the arrival of the slightly grubby Škoda Octavia Estate in its square, just as the aforementioned village was concluding its market activity. We parked the wheels and did the round.
Nothing of consequence to report from this enterprise, other than a lightening of the mood, a heightening of our awareness, a lengthening of the stride and a general improvement of our perspectives, both actual and aspirational. Your most prominent tree, a mediterranean pine, located at the apex of the perambulation, has already lost its distinctive cockerel profile from severe wind damage, and historically shed half its spread to bluster, requiring surgery (see left) years ago. Now it is giving up: the tree is dying, shrivelling, can't take any more, will soon no longer provide that distinctive hill side marker we note from near and far. Meanwhile, a sister tree bordering the dégustation barrel-with-seating has had, ripped untimely, a bough of some size and spread (see below left); has been dealt with, and tidied up by the domaine operatives…
It is expected – these losses, but it is regretable to find such trees reduced… a whole pine is down in the hill-top copse, but 'twas rotten, to boot… a holm oak which carried a randonnée marker by the roadside bench has been brought low… they were markers, hillside punctuation if you like.
Upon return to the centre, the market was gone without trace, the bar was closed for lunch, the school shut for the half day – while the boulangerie, only recently refettled, was also fermée and seemingly up for permanent closure the following weekend (or so the legend, displayed on la porte vouchsafed, not that I could comprehend this, being Fr illiterate, [IBMS*] but was reliably enlightened concerning same by my CEO). I can’t believe it will not be reopening tout-de-suite, under new management and direction maybe, I sincerely hope so. Rasteau sans pain? Mais non s’il vous plaît, it would surely be an outrage to all resident Rasteaufarians…*I Blame My School as in previous posts
The wind notwithstanding, or the deserted square, it was Rasteau Bleu once more…… we returned to 1rueFB revitalised…
