A Day in Our French Life

                                               A Day in our French Life

                                                   An afternoon walk out back of the house

Our daily routine goes a little something like this.  We sleep entirely too late, til around 10, We open all the windows (no screens) and the back door and the top of the Dutch door in the kitchen.  We make coffee, slice our baguette or French bread, toast it, slather on some delicious French Burre (their butter truly is different) and top it with either Speculoos (graham cracker paste that we thought was peanut butter) or fig or fruit jelly.  Most days, we do a load of laundry and hang it out to dry, then we sip our café’s and sit at the long farmhouse table and plan our day.  Shall we tour a castle?  Shall we look for depot ventes to shop for junk/antiques? Shall we go to the daily street markets? Shall we go to churches and scour the tombstones looking for our ancestors?

 Some days, we don't plan, we just pick a direction and choose to have an adventurous day, just see what we see.  Those have been some of the best days.

After our daily adventures, back at home in the afternoon, we sit outside and each do our thing.  I blog, Chelsea facebooks, and Kurt usually plays the guitar until dinner time.  One day, Kurt took his guitar down to Redon Espic, the church we love that has the most resonant sound.  He recorded some hauntingly beautiful music.

 Kurt  is chef, Chelsea and I assist by cutting veggies and bread.  Chelsea sets the table and I clean up afterward.  Kurt is such a good cook that I am happy to do the dishes.  

This has been the vacation I dreamed of.  It is as close an experience to actually living in France as I can imagine.  A truly lovely old and comfortable house, welcoming neighbors, slow paced living is all I could have hoped for.  There are roosters crowing, chickens and cats wandering around the little town square, donkeys braying, sooo many birds singing, and beautiful country views all around.  There are old stone houses, tile roofs, roses at every turn, small but full garden plots, bonjours here, and  bonsoirs there.  Baran is quiet, save the birds, donkeys and roosters.  Boyntanac (our house) is lovely and I am happy here.

 View from upstairs bedroom

 Close up view of the floor stones

 Skillets hang from wood built in the stone wall

 Most used kitchen tool. I bet I've washed these 50 times each.

 Where I write

 View from the bread oven porch

Beautiful, even at dusk