The Feel of Autumn

There’s no doubt about it, autumn is here. A few weeks ago we were just flirting with it but now there’s no denying that it’s fall. All of my senses tell me that it’s so.

The days have been splendid - bright, sunny afternoons perfect for hiking through the woods and around the lake, and chilly evenings for snuggling under layers of covers. The leaves on the grape vines are just beginning to turn gold and red. Hedges of pyracantha are flaming with red, orange and yellow berries. Plump purple figs are falling with a heavy “splat” onto streets and sidewalks. Shiny brown chestnuts rolling down the streets (Is there anything more beautiful than a chestnut? Shiny, deep brown, smooth, each with unique blob-like shapes.) Bins of apples and pears fill the market along with a variety of pumpkins. The potimarron or chestnut pumpkins are bright orange and shaped like a chestnut. Large dusty orange pumpkins are sold by the slice. There are many types of pumpkins except the ones that are so typical in the U.S. These pumpkins are for eating….no carving jack-o-lanterns!

As the products in the markets change, so have our tastes. Fresh raspberries are long gone but a crisp pear with balsamic dressing is a refreshing treat. Mike, having experienced cassoulet in the Dordogne, tested his own recipe and it was a hearty success. He’s tried new recipes using beautiful frilly cabbage and is itching to test a cauliflower curry recipe. We also took an excursion to Marseilles to see the old port and to have bouillabaisse. This is one of Mike’s favorite dishes and we wanted to try it from its original home. Marseilles is only an hour and half drive away so we thought it’d be an easy trip. Not so much…. We arrived to discover that a national strike was underway that day. Roads were closed, police were at every intersection and marchers with signs filled the streets. We finally found a parking place far from the port and barely had time to walk to our lunch spot. We choose a restaurant that has been preparing bouillabaisse in the traditional way for years. We ignored the price and ordered it anyway. What an experience! First they brought out a tray of four, fresh fish – still flipping as Mike would say – that would become part of our bouillabaisse. A half hour later, the same fish reappeared, cooked in saffron, to be filleted tableside. Homemade roux (made from fish stock including barnacles) was placed in our bowl and we carefully added the fish and potatoes. Homemade croutons, aioli and a spicy red sauce completed the dish. It was simple, elegant, rich in flavor and absolutely fabulous! We’ll relive that meal for a long time.

And then there are the almonds. Last spring, we discovered that we have two almond trees which were loaded with fuzzy, green nuts-to-be. Now, dry, tan almonds litter the ground and they were too inviting to resist. I collected a bag full from the yard. But, they had to be shelled. Bummer. We found a nut cracker and I went to work. It seems that there is a certain technique to shelling almonds. If you try to crack them across the flat part you pulverize the nut along with the shell. I discovered the best way is to crack them along the narrow part where there is a natural seam in the shell. Still, the shells are HARD! They’ll crack eventually but the nut may go flying across the room – intact – but across the room. I spent part of an afternoon shelling the almonds I collected - and I have the blister to prove it. It reminded me of gathering pecans as a kid in Texas. I still remember the delight on my mother’s face when I’d come in the house with an armful of pecans. She must have been thinking that NOW someone would have to shell them, but she just smiled and congratulaed me. I’d sit on the porch with her or my grandmother shelling – and eating- pecans. It was a treat when one would come out whole. What nice memories of Texas in autumn.

Back in Cotignac, even the sounds are different now. The cicadas are long gone and the “rum” of the harvesting equipment is diminishing. New sounds have replaced them. When I went for my morning walks in the summer the forest behind our house was striking for its lack of sound – not even any birds. Now, the forest is filled with tweeting, chirping and trilling. We were told that it’s migratory season and song birds are passing through. They have such a happy sound I wish they’d stay awhile.

The other new sounds are dogs and guns. Yep….dogs and guns. It’s sanglier (wild boar) hunting season. There are apparently many of them here and they do considerable damage to the vineyards. We were sitting on the patio one beautiful, sunny morning when we heard the baying of hound dogs followed by shouts and then shots. We didn’t know what to think! A few days later, walking along the back roads, I ran into a couple of hunters. Their dogs were in the truck while they loaded their shotguns. It's a scene that could have been in Texas except that these hunters were standing in a vineyard wearing berets!

As the grape harvest winds down, there seems to be a practice of burning debris in the fields. We wake to the smell of distant smoke as though we fallen asleep next to a campfire. The tendrils of smoke are visible and fill the valley with haze. It’s a cozy smell but I can’t help but wonder about the environmental issues.

But of all the senses, it’s the different feel that is noticeable in a subtle and yet obvious way. The atmosphere of the village is different now. The crowds of tourists are gone, and the village feels like it has been returned to its rightful owners. And they are doing wonders with it. We assisted with a small editor’s fair that was organized by my French teacher, Catherine. Mike helped assemble the plates of food for lunch and I distributed them. It was fun to be a true participant at a local event – and we even got tee-shirts! And, Mike had his picture taken with the Mayor.

Last week was a festival for the flavors of autumn. Vendors lined the Cours selling homemade jams, confitures, honey, pumpkins, spiced breads, and, of course, wine. A Dixieland jazz band strolled the streets – a bit of a jolt to the rest of the scene. But the highlight was the soup contest. About 20 residents brought their best soup to be tasted by official judges and everyone else. We joined the fun, sampled and voted for our favorites. The soups ranged from borscht to pumpkin to broccoli to gazpacho and a yummy carrot-cumin soup. It was a terrific event and downtown was humming with activity. We visited with people we knew and enjoyed a beautiful autumn afternoon.

(As a side note, we marvel over the number of events that are available in this tiny village. Mike – ever the economic development man– surmised that the City charged a minimal fee that allowed the groups to use the Cours. But, no. As we learned, the City pays the groups to have their events downtown! The City even provides and sets up the tents. The City believes that it’s good for business as it brings people into the shops and restaurants. Hmmmm. Maybe they’ve got something there.)

Finally, the other feeling that has changed is mine. We’ve been in France six of our ten months. While there are still several months to go plus weeks of travel around the world to get home, there is a distinct shift in how I feel. Gone are the feelings of anticipation leading into this experience. Now, I feel keenly that there is a time when this will come to an end. We’ve started an ever-growing pile of things to stuff into a bag to send home with the next unsuspecting guests (Wil and Siena – you know who you are!). And, for a variety of reasons, we had to book our return flights home that will start in late January. All of that contributes to a different atmosphere. I want to savor these last several months – indeed we have a number of guests yet to arrive and more trips planned – and there is a feeling of taking full advantage of every moment, of fitting in those last few experiences, of going back one last time to the places we love. Even if the day is simply sitting in the sun on the patio overlooking Cotignac – it’s a day to cherish and soak into my bones. Whatever I'm doing, I'm conscious of absorbing it whole - like a series of moving moments - each one special.

And, I have to confess, it felt good to make the flight reservations to go home. I could tell my mother when I’d see her after spending a year away. Mike and I talk with excitement and love about unpacking our beautiful home in Annapolis.

So, autumn brings complex feelings….luxuriating in the moments remaining in France while anticipating the return to our real home. My friend, Robert, tells a story of saying to his kids, “The only thing that should be coming out of your mouth right now is ‘thank you’.” And those two, little words are my feelings for autumn.