A Lack of Blogs

You may have noticed a paucity of blog posts recently. This is because despite claiming I'm OK, the problem (and you'll thank me for leaving it unspecified) hasn't gone away. It's uncomfortable, potentially embarassing, and means that I can't actually go anywhere.

One I'm doing stuff again, posting will continue. Meanwhile, a 3 year old photo taken in the Alps.

Time Spent in the Forest

I try to walk in the Forest of Preuilly three times a week. I never take the same path. Sometimes I will do a couple of kilometres, sometimes I'll do six. Sometimes I meet no one, sometimes I run into someone and have a long chat. 

Magpie Inkcap Coprinopsis picacea (Fr. Coprin pie) in the Foret de Preuilly.

The other day I spent three hours in the forest and took 353 photos, mostly of fungi. I also met quite a few people. 

There was a retired widowed Spanish engineer who lives in a nearby street to me and uses a stick to walk. He used to work for Elf and was based in the Congo and Marseille. I'm slowly learning his life story as we amble along together.

There was a pair of elderly women with a wicker basket, not gathering mushrooms as I had assumed but chestnuts. They heard my accent and asked me if I was Romanian! And they complained that the chestnuts are small, poor quality and not very numerous this year, due to the drought.

There was Jane and Chris with their rescued Spanish Galgos (like lurchers). Yet another British couple I've never encountered before. We conversed in French until Chris finally asked me where I was from as he could hear my accent. I could hear theirs as well and twigged that they were probably British, but it turns out they've lived here 13 years and properly got to grips with the language. I must get them to say Pressigny and Preuilly one day and see how they go...(IYKYK).

There was a French couple who love to walk in the forest for their mental and physical health. As with all the people I encounter, we discussed the management of the forest and its biodiversity. I'm a walking outreach resource for biodiversity surveying, and most people stop to talk to me because I've got my bum in the air photographing a fungus.

And there was Edouard, who lives three doors down. He has a new dog, a basset type called Max, who is lovely but needs lead training. Edouard and his wife walk in the forest nearly every day even though they are in their 80s. 

Chrysanthemums at Toussaint

Why do French families put chrysanthemums on their graves at Toussaint (All Saints, 1 November)?

 

The cemetery in Preuilly sur Claise at Toussaint, taken from our spare room window.

Chrysanthemums are a symbol of vitality and longevity in Asia, where they originate, but they have become the essential symbol of mourning  in France. In Australia they are associated with Mothers Day. The species behind all the cultivars we see today is Chrysanthemum morifolium.

It is a relatively recent practice, encouraged by Georges Clemenceau in the aftermath of the First World War. Chrysanthemums are robust, and most importantly, covered in flowers at Toussaint. Clemenceau wanted the nation to decorate the memorials to the War dead and their graves. Chrysanthemums were ideal. By 1920 the practice had captured the public imagination and chrysanthemums were placed on any and all graves at Toussaint, effectively by accident.

 

The florist in Preuilly sur Claise at Toussaint.

Prior to this they were barely known, and certainly not fashionable garden plants. The tradition in the 19th century was to place candles on graves on All Souls Day (2 November).

 

A village cemetery at Toussaint (Saint Rémy sur Creuse).

Four million households will buy plants and flowers at Toussaint, of which 60% are 20 million pots of chrysanthemums. The City of Paris will cultivate 75 000 chrysanthemums to be placed in municipal flower beds and cemeteries. These days the plant is more associated with brightening up the dreary November streetscapes, so they can also be seen on balconies and terraces, not just associated with remembrance and sorrow.

I'm OK Thanks

After Monday's excitement I've had a couple of quiet days, playing some piano, and doing some dozing. The rest has been doing me good, but my body has reacted quite violently to the antibiotics.

As long as they stay in long enough, I think they'll do me some good.

A Hospital Visit

On Monday I thought I had a return of the dreaded kidney stones. I was playing nonchalant, but Susan decided that action was needed. She phoned 15, and spoke to an online doctor who agreed with her, made an appointment for me at Loches hospital, and off we trotted.

Dialling 15 is the approved route for getting to Emergency (Urgencies, in French) at a hospital. The idea is that you will be directed to an emergency room that is (a) open, and (b) has the appropriate staff and equipment. She was given a choice between Loches and Tours. We chose Loches, because it's closer, and easier for Susan to visit me if I should happen to be admitted.

Waiting for the scan. Susan wanted me to look wan and unwell. I was uncooperative.

Anyway, I was put in a very empty room on a trolley, and Susan perched on a stool. I had a saline drip attached, and then we waited for the machine to be free. Eventually I had my scan, and the good news was delivered. No stones. I do however have a UTI, which is now being treated with antibiotics.

Picking up the Pieces

On Friday I headed off to work. We had a storm warning for Storm Austen and it was rather wet and windy. I was scheduled to meet Los Angeles based artist Lauren Mendelsohn-Bass and her mother for a guided tour of Azay le Rideau. But I didn't get very far before I had to stop. A tree had come down just outside of Preuilly. Jacques from the organic market garden had been cycling to work (!!) and come across it minutes before me. He and another bloke had just managed to lift the tree off the road. I took care of clearing up the smaller stuff scattered all over the road. Then we all went on our way.