LBE's jardin

This past weekend I took my garden back.

There were a few pressing factors that were causing me to  make some quick decisions about my plans for the garden at LBE.

1. Spring is in full force in France. Normally we can wait until May to begin planting. But this year, planting season began in March, and it probably could have even begun in February.

2. I will be traveling throughout the month of May, and this is my last opportunity to plant my crops for the upcoming season--when I return it will already be summer.

And the most urgent reason I need to take some swift action, is Mr. B...

3. Mr. B, is my garden's caretaker. I inherited him with the house. He takes his job seriously, and every time I return to the LBE I find that he has taken great care of, and a lot of creative liberties with my garden. Like multi-colored pansies decorating the front entrance,

shallots planted randomly among the peonies, an assault of red and yellow tulips throughout the garden, his acknowledgement of my birthplace by screwing a Route 66 license plate onto my barn door,

and a wooden bench that he refurbished and placed on the stone seating platform.

I totally appreciate his care and attentiveness. He is also meticulous, which I love. Such a lovely man-- he once even declared that he considers himself my second father. "You have two fathers now, one in the US and now one in France. Me." I melted.

Sometimes I get the feeling that he is concerned about me. The fact that I bought this house on my own and am not married. Other times I think that this gives him a sense of purpose and value. I appreciate him immensely and love that the universe brought him into my life.

The problem is that he has no idea of my aesthetic vision.  I prefer monochrome colors. My favorite gardens are usually all white and green, like this:

I also like to have vegetables and herbs that are intentional,  and visually appealing.

So this weekend, I took matters into my own hands to help direct things.  With the help of RDW and Miss Mary from Portland, we gutted the left half of the garden. Removed approximately 350 yellow and red tulip bulbs, dug up six rose bushes and a Camellia bush. We did it within a 24 hour period, with not a single surprise appearance by Mr. B.

Before (tulips beginning to pop up in March):

After:

Kale, spinach, lettuce, tomatoes, parsley, rosemary, sage, basil, coriander, thym, chives.

I didn't have the heart to discard the rose bushes, nor the tulip bulbs for that matter. Therefore, the rose bushes were all relocated to less invasive spots around the house. the tulip bulbs now sit in a compost pile, with the intention that I will gather them up and gift them to someone, or lay them to rest in the forest.

In the meantime, I just hope that Mr. B's feeling are not hurt. And that he will direct his love and care on my new crops.

I can hardly wait to harvest my bounty.

Poivre

Poivre means pepper in French. It is also the name of La Bonne Etape's (LBE) new kitchen paint color.

Since purchasing a new couch for LBE I have shifted the object of my obsession to a paint color for LBE's kitchen. Poivre, Elephant's Breath, Joah's White, I was open to a few different directions.

However, while pouring over a gazillion inspiration images that have been piling up and weighing down my hard drive, it became pretty clear.

I have a crush on dark kitchens. This should come as no surprise considering I had painted the dining room in my Portland house a similar color, DownPipe.

As I was looking through old photos to find one of the Portland house's dining room, I came across photos of my old office in Portland. And guess what color those walls are? Yep. I guess I have a deep rooted affinity with the Poivre hue.

As per usual, I second guessed my color choice right up to the last minute. There are naysayers who were quick to say it is too dark, that I must try and bring in more light, it would be too hard to course correct to a lighter color later, etc.  But no matter which color direction I pursued, anything was better than the yellow-country-flower-wallpaper-extravaganza that was there when I began this kitchen beautification process. 

Lucky for me, I have a great support system to help me navigate the naysayer trip wires. RDW is the first to not only say "go for it", but he follows up with his own inspirational photos as if to say "I get you. Let's do this, immediately."

And then before I have a chance to change my mind, 

he is there with a roller, 

a bottle of pink bubbles,

and Boom!

LBE has got some Poivre kitchen walls. 

Les Pigeons

I have been working form the country all week. "Normally" I would set up my work computers in the larger stone-coved living room. However, it is winter and hard to keep that room heated. So instead, I set up camp in the kitchen which looks out into the garden. Besides, that keeps myself and fresh cups of coffee within arms length. Dangerous, yet convenient.

I have noticed that everyday around 1pm, a colorful assortment of pigeons visit my garden and root around my gout de lait, aka pierced snow, flowers. Every time they descend onto my garden I find myself getting up from my computer and going to the window to spy, and if the truth be told, talk to them.

I realize that this is a very common event, And from some perspectives, a bit "crazy-old-country-lady-ish". I am certain that if I told the boys that this was a daily highlight for me, they would prohibit me from spending weekdays in the country. What would really send them over the edge is to learn that sometimes I try and take photos of the cuter pigeons, in my own twisted version of Hot or Not.

Today, as I was photographing the "hotter" pigeons,  it occurred to me that one day I will look back on the days when I watched the pigeons from my French country house's kitchen window, with fondness and nostalgia.

What is one man's "bat shit crazy" is another man's "appreciating the present moment" loveliness.

When I am a little old lady, I am pretty sure that daily events like these will be one of the things that I wax poetic about. Why not start now?

So, how did you spend your Valentine's Day? Geesh.

Weekend Reverse Bucket List

The front door of La Bonne Etape, my house in Burgundy.

I just read an article that describes the process of writing one's bucket list-- in reverse. This is not intended to be a list of the audacious goals that one hopes to accomplish before dying. But rather it is a list of things that you have already accomplished. You can read some tips for writing your Reverse Bucket List here. 

One way to structure your reverse bucket list is to define a period of time that you want to capture. Be it one year, five years, ten years or a single day, it is meant to highlight amazing milestones that have already occurred.  It had me thinking about this weekend's Reverse Bucket List:

Septime Wine Cave

Friday night:

Apertif at Septime Wine Cav with the Englishman. Once again, I found myself drinking from the Kool Aid as he convinced me to write poetry about my country house. His theory is that if you talk about your house from the standpoint of the personalities that it has and the events that have/or will occur, you will start to see it' essence and therefore it's "poetic mood board". The good news is that I don't have to write my own house poetry because over a few glasses of wine,  he waxed poetic about my house right then and there. It resulted in some easily executable projects that I can knock out over the week ahead. And some new inspiration courtesy of Septime's restaurant which is across the street.

Rod iron, glass, white candles, off white walls, and exposed wood counter tops, courtesy of Septime's restaurant.

Then I went to meet friends at another nearby neighborhood favorite.

Bistrot Paul Bert (photo by The Paris Kitchen)

Dinner at Bistrot Paul Bert with some lovely friends who were visiting Paris from Brussels. They were enjoying a weekend away to celebrate their one year anniversary. One year ago, Patrick laid eyes on Anne at a boutique in Brussels, and within minutes he spontaneously gifted her a hat that he thought looked beautiful on her. During dinner we laughed, told stories, and drank amazing Bordeaux, all the while they infused me with much hope and an overall sense of possibilities. At one point, Patrick leaned over and told me that he waited 53-years to meet the love of his life, my lovely friend Anne, who coincidentally, seemed to be radiating more than usual.

Saturday:

Train ride from Paris to Burgundy with Carlina.

Upon arriving to La Bonne Etape, Carlina and I parked ourselves on my new couch (FINALLY!) and got fully caught up over a bottle of Olivier Morin.

We put my new Pasta making contraption to use and made raviolis with spinach/ricotta filling from scratch. (We called Carlina's mum in Argentina for stuffing tips)

Carlina is knee deep in Game of Thrones (about time!), so I happily helped her kill a couple of episodes with the help of a glass of Goisot. Reminding me how freaking excited I am for GoT Season 4 to begin.

At bedtime, I laid there staring out my bedroom window at the village rooftops and noticed that that the cloud cover had dissipated and made way to one of my favorite sites in the village-- a star filled sky. Just breathtaking. 

I slept like a baby.

Sunday:

It's really fun to wake up with one of your girlfriends sleeping in a nearby bedroom. So I made coffee and brought a cup up to her so she could linger in bed a while longer.

The sun shone all day and the temperatures continue to be relatively mild.

Goût du lait is sprouting up all over my garden.. in February.

We took a walk along the backside of the village and to visit our friend Diane's garden which  is nestled right up to the pine trees and the Serein river. So many plans for D's garden... kale crops, lettuce,  picnics on blankets, bbq's, etc. We need Rod to return from the states so he can captain this project.

After I dropped her at the train station, I returned to the house to knock off a "small" painting project. I painted one of the living room radiators.

Before; yellow

After: Blanc calcaire

Whoa. Although small in dimension, painting radiators is no quick task, lots of nooks and crannies. Only one way to turn that task into a mind blowing, spiritual awakening...

Nina Simone Live at Montreux, 1976. One word- damn.

And now I sit in front of my fire, in my house in the French wine country. (still pinching myself every time I mutter these words)

If you would have asked me on Thursday, what my weekend bucket list was, I doubt I would have predicted that it would have been filled with this many amazing checklists.

idée fixe: canapé

idée fixe (Fr.) noun: an idea or desire that dominates the mind; an obsession.

Obviously this stone-coved ceiling is very high, unlike mine. But serves as an inspirational direction to move in none-the-less.

Because I inherited a house full of granny-style furniture, much of which is from the 50's, I am desperate to find a new canapé (couch) that will bring this house into my modern monastic-chic vision. This is only exacerbated by the fact that I have a fireplace that I am anxious to snuggle up in front of, especially during these winter months. I find myself stuck in a purgatory of sorts, where I feel a sense of urgency, yet don't want to make a panic purchase and accidentally buy a canape that doesn't fit my current inspiration criteria.

There are January sales right around the corner. And if I get my ducks in a row and select my target, I can hopefully pull the trigger when the prices temporarily drop.

Canapé criteria:

• needs to be low (no high backs) as my living room is a stone-coved low ceiling.
• light in color to help brighten the room (my ideal color is oatmeal since white is just begging for a wine spill)
• comfy
• would be nice if the material was stain proof, and or removable/washable cover
• modular (can be broken apart and reconfigured) which allows me some future options if I were to open up the full lemgth of the living room. That way I can re-create a formal space with multiple canapes.
• no buttons on the upholstery, just simple and timeless, with a hint of modern design
• linen fabric is preferred, and suede/velvet/leather is a total deal breaker.

I have a dream canape in mind, yet I have no idea where I can find it. Here is a shot of it that was found on a design blog. Love everything about this one:

This next one is also nice, especially if it came in a lighter/oatmeal shade, and had a matching ottoman (not required). But where? I found this one on a design blog as well. Why don't they ever tell you where you can buy them? Sigh.

Here's the Newman from Habitat. Not modular, but comfy. The metal legs are not doing much for me. I am pretty sure that monastic-chic demands wood.

And yet another one that is not modular, but super comfy with removable covers that can be washed. It is spendy-- it comes from Merci in Paris afterall.

Then there is this modular solution from Muji. It comes in grey, which is not oatmeal. I am also not totally feeling the metal legs. But it is affordable and can be transformed. You can also order more pieces and extra pillows as needed. God, I hope I don't settle for this one.

Let's consider this post as preparation for the January sales. Although my target has not been identified as of yet.

Transition ritual

I have been spending a lot of time in the country. There is so much to do to the house, yet I am still taking time to enjoy my friends and the village before the extremity of winter.

It seems that I have a transition ritual when I return to Paris after having been in Burgundy.

• Discard any plant casualties.

• Turn on KEXP to drown out the sounds of the neighbors.
• Order Thai food
• File my nails and oil my cuticles. Twice.
• Dust. The lack of movement in the apartment for periods of time can produce an obscene amount of dust.
• Bathe (vaporize) my scarves and coat in the Diptyque Vinaigre tonic to remove the smell of firewood. 

• Text my Paris friends to remind them that I am still alive and (somewhat) relevant.
• Lament the country house before and after photos that I forgot to take.
• Plan my return.

The upstairs WC before and after:

The mint green WC was unbearable.

Gris Gallet is much more tolerable. I only wish I hadn't run out of paint. It desperately needs another coat, and white baseboards.

The living room enduit before and after:

Living room enduit before (notice the discoloration which seemed like a dusty/cottony film)

I think it is important to put intentions into a new home. Here are some of the energy words that we painted into the walls of La Bonne Etape.

Living room enduit after. The Blanc Caisse color gives a modern feel and really brightens things up. The stone-coved ceiling now has a chance to be the star again. 

Extincteur

Extincteur(Fr. )/ extinguisher (Eng.) noun: a metal cylinder which contains water or chemicals at high pressure which can put out fires.

A few weeks ago, my friend's Bed and Breakfast (which is called a "gite" in French) caught fire. The cause? An old toaster oven turned itself on and the electrical wire set off sparks that wreaked total havoc and destroyed her kitchen and living room with fire damage.

(Photo by Thierry Drosson)

Not only do (did) I have a toaster oven at La Bonne Etape, but I also have two fireplaces that I know nothing about. It put the fear of fire in me, and therefore sent me straight to the BHV to but fire extinguishers. My intention was to buy one for every floor in my house, and maybe an extra one to hang in the bathroom as modern art, just like Patrick did in his Brussels penthouse.

There were so many options-- extincteurs for gas, grease, cars, etc. I decided I should buy the ones that covers ALL bases. It was 51 euros (!) so I only bought one.

I thought that I was finished with this adult errand until I turned the corner and saw that the options continued-- and because this is France after all, they were aesthetic options.

Yes, those are fire extincteurs that look like magnums of wine. But of course! How perfect for my house in the Burgundy wine country, non? They cost 101 euros. Sigh. Because I am an adult, I must prioritize that money towards Farrow & Ball paint.

And then, gasp, I came across these sexy little numbers. Have you ever seen anything so cheesy in your life? The shocking part was that there was a cluster of folks gathered around these little honies picking out their purchases. ("Ooh la la, rouge! Non, non. non, rose!") God, the French aren't nearly as stylish and discreet as they make themselves out to be.

I debated purchasing this for the boys. How could I resist an extincteur with a pug in a Blues Brother disguise? Again, 101 euros-- I passed. The boys can thank me later.

I made my way directly to the Caisse (register) before any other distractions took a piece of my bank account. And what do you think they put in my bag (besides the warranty paperwork for my extincteur)? You guessed it, ANOTHER breathalyzer test. 

Really?

What is going on? Why is it that every time I make a purchase at the hardware store, I am given a breathalyzer test? Is it me? Are they trying to tell me something? Or is this a real fear across Paris-- people doing at home DIY projects drunk? Dare I try and extinguish a fire after too many drinks. Yet, something tells me that is precisely when I may need to extinguish a fire.

Oh, France.