No question about it!  Fall has arrived in Nérac.  Sunday’s forecast indicated no sunny days.  None, ever again.  With the day’s storm came winds  blowing branches to the ground, covering walkways and providing a trecherous obstacle course as I walked Elsie to and from her favourite elimination spots.  I changed from a light jacket to the big, down coat, and, as I walk the dog, I’ve watched the water in the Baïse began its gradual climb up the sides of the river,  and the banks are lined with fall colors of crimson, copper, and the Pard de la Garenne is awash with smatterings of gold and orange sprinkled through out the many still-green leaves.  With the constant rain of this week, the ones that have hit the ground quickly change, become a deep mahogany, and then a slushy, sloppy, decaying black.

Unlike my former home state of California, Fall in Gascony means you have to make many preparations for a new season.  After 3 winters, I realise, now, that it’s best to set aside a couple of days and get it all done at once.  Otherwise, it’s a catch-up game that never ends.  The first job, with the onset of cold weather, is that the boiler that feeds the radiators must be turned on, the heavier duvets must be added to the beds, and the windows need heavier coverings to keep out the cold winds that are bound to hit here in the next couple of months.  Most houses in town have shutters to close out the cold in the winter (and the heat in the summer) but someone decided my house didn’t need them any more.  One of my neighbours once told me she had always “felt sorry” for my house, shutterless as it is.

A load of wood is now stacked and ready to fuel the fireplace in the salon (living room) to provide both physical and spiritual warmth throughout the winter. Coming from an area in California, I, of course, thought a fire was started by flipping a switch or turning on the gas, but, this fireplace is real, gas starters don’t exist here, and lighting logs was one of my many lessons when the first cold wave hit Nérac in 2016.  With instruction from Kate Hill, some coaching from Elaine Tin Yo, and a bit of experimentation on my own, I can now get a beautiful fire going using a modification of an “upside down fire“.  Kate builds her fire in the wood burning stove in her kitchen, with adjustments for size and available space.  My friend, Taffy, builds hers on a grate, with layers of logs in alternating directions About 2 1/2 feet high, it looks like a tower of Lincoln logs.  Mine is built directly on the stones with all the logs going in the same direction, wedged into each other in several layers.  On top of that goes recycled paper and boxes, and then, smaller pieces of kindling wood.  Two little bouchons, cork shaped coils of straw coated with a flammable product, are tucked into the paper and lit, et voila! A roaring fire that I add to, a log or two at a time,  periodically, to keep it going.  

My terrace is still lined with flowering impatiens and begonias and some of the marguerite daisies have escaped being eaten by slugs, but the fig tree is quickly tossing its leaves to the ground and the Virginia Creeper has given up most of its green for gold and crimson as it, too, gets ready to drop leaves on my terrace.  Leaves that will have to be swept and toted to the déchèterie (known in English as The Dump), someplace I never did visit in the US, though it is one of my favourite outings here! So organised, so clean, so logical.)  I’ve pulled out the few tomato and pepper plants that were planted in pots on the porch and will be replacing them with winter greens; lettuce, arugula, mache.  The summer was so hot that parsley and cilantro went to seed about a day after they were planted this year.  The last surviving basil is about to become an infused olive oil to add flavour to the tomatoes I’ve been canning over the past weeks.

Even on a sunny day, this time of year the days are shorter, temperatures are cooler, and there is always a fair amount of moisture in the air, so it is definitely time to roll up the clothes line and pull out the drying rack on the third floor.  That rack, my banisters on two floors and the radiators scattered through the house are the winter clothes dryer here, chez moi. While summer clothing would only take a few hours to dry, heavier, winter clothes can spend more than a day strung around the house, so its important to wash on days that you don’t expect company!  People dropping unexpectedly just have to deal with it!

In the kitchen, the menu changes from tomato tarts to quiches, grilled meats and Gascon Salads to braises and stews.  Many nights I’ll make a simple omelet with a salad, though in January that omlet will get dressed up with truffles! My favourite on-my-own meal, though, is a round of Camenbert or Mont d’Or, pierced with garlic slivers, a bit of white wine poured over, and then roasted, in the oven or in the fireplace, to charred and oozy perfection.  It’s then eaten with chunks of fresh baguette, cubes of boiled potatoes, and sliced apples, each piece dipped into the melted cheese like a fondue.  Oh, and a glass of that white wine on the side, please.

The weather report is still rain for the foreseeable future, or right up until I leave for California on November 20th.  I haven’t checked the weather there, yet.  I think I’ll just comfort myself with thoughts of sunshine and beaches and sushi and tacos and margaritas.  And, when I return in mid-December, my house will be waiting for me, all ready for the winter.

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