« Authentic» is the adjective that comes to mind
when I think of my house in Burgundy France.
Bucolic, rural and idyllic are
next on the list. When as newlywed ex
pats we bought our 200 year old secondary home to escape Paris at the weekends in
1972 little did I know that 42 years on it would be my permanent home.
Little old ladies in black pinafores with straw hats and clogs have gone to
another world – their stone abodes restored and revamped by grandchildren who have
studied, married and brought their families back to the village founding another generation of friendly and
heartwarming people.
The welcoming bowls of cherries, strawberries and
lettuce have continued to be placed on our doorstep all through the years and
even to this day the generosity and kindness of the villagers has continued.
Retired from my lingerie shop after many years in
historical Semur-en-Auxois the medieval city close by; I now enjoy watching the lizards slide across
the patio flagstones baking themselves in the sun while I clap my hands to shoo
the flocks of birds who peck at my cherries and who love to hide in the peach
trees.
Vineyards line the hills where I walk my dog –
rabbits, deer, and wild boar are a regular sight in the forest – october brings
baskets of field mushrooms, black truffles and wild herbs to our table.
I might live in the heart of France but Paris is just an
hour away by TGV and I can even catch lunch in London by Eurostar.
