Here in our little part of South West France we seem to have a lot of moles, people spend vast amounts on trying to get rid of them- traps, bombs, poison and tubes that make a vibrating noise are a few.
As we don't have an cricket pitch lawn and we live in the country we don't fret at yet another mole hill coming up through the grass. We did have an adopted German Shepherd, Bella left by the previous farmers who was an amazing moler with a quick snap they were gone. Milo and Franklin never got the hang of moling they were always too late but never less would proceed to dig up the mound left so not only did we have hills, (which the moles work hard making excellent finely tilled earth for potting plants) but large holes (which had to be filled in by the hills).
But now we seem to have new molers of the feathered kind, probably not a nice way to go for the mole but at least they made a meal for a few fowl. Yesterday morning while clearing up around the farm I saw one of the chi…
This is the year of getting rid of the brambles that grow so well around the farm. Like weeds you turn your back (probably for a year or two if truth be known) and your left with a jungle of vicious lengths of brambles that have wound their way round trees and bushes.
So we have trimmed, secateured, sheared, pulled, machete and chainsawed (the later two by farmer J not me, not really allowed sharp objects as a few years back i managed to cut through the electric hedge trimmer cable (and live to tell the tale) so best if i stick to secateurs.
It is beginning to look a lot tidier, yet to have a bonfire to get pay back for all those thorns that implanted themselves in our skin and scratches left. Farmer J's arms look like he has done a bit of self harming, unlike me who wears long thick suede gloves that come up half way to your elbows, which sadly now have a hole in one finger which i am reminded of each time i wear them he has a girly white leather normal size pair.
Some may think that South West France is sunny, warm and inviting all year round - it is not, and this week is proving that. The rain has made for an incredibly wet and muddy farm, where us and the animals are beginning to get a bit fed up with (apart from the ducks who are loving the puddles everywhere). Feeling flat after the loss of Milo man we needed to get off the farm for a few hours so a trip to Cordes yesterday afternoon was planned.
High up in the sky Cordes was voted the favourite village of 2014 by the French (but they probably didn't go this time of year) being so high up there the rain would run down the hill and with cobbled streets no mud. We were able to drive right up to the top and park with ease, something which is very hard to do in tourist season.
Just as well we decided to eat before we left the farm as no restaurants were open, even the public loos were shut which meant going into the only open cafe and buying the most expensive coffees ever - we were proba…