autumn is here

This blog has become a catalogue of my weekend fun. Is there life in between our hikes, cooking fests, DVD sessions and spurts of gardening? Yes and no. The weekend has a rhythm (weather allowing): a walk on whichever day is fairest, pottering chez nous on the other day, perhaps (less likely) venturing beyond the perimeter of no. 287 to see friends or hit the big smoke for a film.

This last weekend was particularly rich, including a concert, walk and (of course) food:
... the concert was part of Millésime 2012's "Vivaldi and the wines of Savoy" (ha ha, what would Vivaldi have made of that). Just a bit of performance-management would have avoided the amateurish on-stage shuffling, complete with fleece jackets, that preceded the concert, and the grumpy "audience, what audience?" expressions. But the music was ravishing and, in the end, the Grenoble Conservatoire kids did pretty well.

We then adjourned to taste six Savoy wines, savouring the wine-taster's analysis as much as the bottles: a non-agressif white which avoided l'attaque de l'acidité and combined the aroma of violette de montagne ("which mountain violet?" grumps Juan "in those heels I don't see her up any mountain") with hazlenut leaf (?!) and velvet. I walked the tightrope between thorough enjoyment of the nuanced, informative guide and the party-pooping disengagement of my husband. Lessons learned: Gamay goes with everything, from fish to charcuterie and an impromptu apéro if friends call by. (In my dreams.)

... the same day we had done a storming walk from Le Désert (en Valjouffrey) up the Bonne valley, arguably the most remote in the Ecrins, enjoying the annual explosion of autumn colours:

view towards Pic Olan

... where Juan's weekend was made by finding a sheep's bell:

All weekend we ate stupendous food (de manjar en manjar, says Juan), processing our friend Jacque's apples into (amongst other things) apple cake:

... and cooking late-season pears into a frangipane tart:

(Housewife's lament: How can I ever lose weight when I have a husband who so loves puddings!)

After Juan leaves on Sunday there will be a brief void before my topsy-turvey week launches, "launch" suggesting a coherent weekly pattern that ain't quite it. My Berlitz work varies from sporadic to full on (currently the former as the company is continuing to struggle to find students); occasional shiatsu rdvs and the semi-regular once-a-fortnight slot in the retirement home that keeps me believing in myself as a shiatsu practitioner. In between these two jobs I have a structure-free existence as a housewife,with a roaming brief (ha ha) that includes gardening, domestic chores, and admin of all types (tax returns,log deliveries and boilers blowing up being recent examples). Right now I have abundant time. But paradoxically, this creates a weird, false pressure - how to explain that I don't manage to sit down for a minute, yet have few concrete achievements at the end of the week? I find myself drawing Juan's attention to the now-clean paving at the front door. Aiee, has it come to this?!

At the beginning of Juan's job in Yverdon we said we'd "see how it went" in terms of where we live in the medium term. But from the outset Juan has loved coming back to his home and wife in Vaulnaveys, and a quality of living that would be impossible in Switzerland. So I am beginning to see my traditional female role, "awaiting the warrior's return", as semi-permanent, and even enjoyable. Seeing each other just two days per week certainly allows us to value each other in new ways. I send Juan back to his flat with food for the week and he is sweetly appreciative of this and my other, vague contributions to our well-being. I am slowly realising that I am a very lucky woman.