What happens when a horsemad Ould Wagon moves from Cork to Provence with 2 horses, 2 dogs and a Long Suffering Husband? Why, she gets a third dog, discovers Natural Horsemanship à la Française, starts writing short stories and then discovers a long-buried talent for art, of course…
Alexandrine texted me one evening to say that Aero had torn his fly rug again. I went up to the farm the following morning to swap it for the spare so I could bring it home to fix it. I heard a tractor nearby and wondered if they had started harvesting the lavender in my favourite field. You know, this one :
Sure enough, La Recolte (the harvest) had begun! I’ve been hoping to get pictures of it, so I walked over and started snapping.
Peter Mayle described the lavender being cut by hand back in the 1980s in A Year in Provence. Well, we’ve moved on from there. It was being gathered just like any other grain – cut by a mower and spat into a large hopper…
…which is then emptied into a waiting trailer.
Then it will be taken to the distillery, where it will be turned into essential oil.
This is actually Lavandin, not Lavender – there’s a really good article at the Jersey Lavender Blog which explains the difference between the two. Lavandin is cheaper so it is used in the production of washing powder, washing-up liquid, shampoo, air fresheners etc, whereas Lavender has a more delicate scent and is preferred by the perfume industry. Lavandin has a higher Camphor content, too, which makes it a handy additive to insect repellants. Too bad the horse-flies seem to be immune to it!
Being a country girl at heart, I was fascinated with the mower. It runs along the top of each row, gathering the heads into a bunch and then chopping them off, before blowing them out into the hopper, just like a silage mower.
It’s sad to see the lavandin go, but it’ll be back again next year.
I’ve been unsuccessfully on the lookout for blue all week. I’m sure it’s been there in front of my very eyes, but I just haven’t seen it.
I went to Avignon on Thursday to bring the YD and Ash to the station (Ash is now gone sniff! and the YD will be leaving us for good in ten days double sniff!) I took some photos of the town and as I looked through them, I realised there’s plenty of blue to be seen…
The Avignon Skyline :
The clock tower beside where I parked Ole Jeepy :
and this fabulous blue door :
For more blueness from all over the world, visit Sunday Stills and see what blues everyone found.
I actually managed to ride one of my horses last week. It’s been very complicated recently, what with the LSH frantically trying to get everything ready for his forthcoming exhibition in Céreste and with visitors coming and going.
Flurry was my chosen victim the lucky horse I chose to ride. I took him out of his paddock and led him across the road to the farm, admiring the neat lavender field and the distant Alps as we walked. Then I noticed that he was going even slower than usual and it took me another moment to realise that I was feeling massive tension down the leadrope. I looked at him. His head was up, his ears were sharply pricked and he was goggle-eyed as he stared fixedly over my head. What was wrong?
Then I saw them…
Two new Killer-Death-Donkeys-from-Hell. Sigh. Just when my horses have accepted that Grisou is not going to kill them, two more Long-Ears arrive.
They look innocent enough…
…and Flurry, to be fair, accepted them straight away once he realised what they were. Aero, on the other hand… It’s going to take a while for him to get used to the idea that there are now THREE donkeys on the farm, and that that they’re not all plotting to kill him. It took him long enough to accept Grisou!
One of these guys has very impressive legs. Can you see his stripes?
They’re a bit clearer in this photo :
Yes, he has zebra stripes on his legs. Could he be a Zonkey? I’d better not mention that possibility to Aero…

