Tarte aux poires et roquefort: a desert or a dinner treat?

Pears from the garden, walnuts from the tree in the horse paddock, egg kindly supplied by Blacky No.1, Roquefort cheese from Roquefort (a couple hours away), red wine from Gaillac (about 45mins away), and a tiny bit of honey from the local market. (We'll just keep it a secret that the pastry and milk came from the supermarket). Simple, tasty, and local.     

The Colour of Autumn, Roquefort, and a Haunted Old House

                                  

It's Autumn. 

             

Falling leaves. Earthly, mossy aroma.     

Crisp.

Clear sky. 

Perfect weather for a drive.

Past freshly plowed fields.

Up an old farm trail. Stretch our legs.

                  

Tumbledown cottage to the left.       Forest fort on the right.         

In the clearing. Look!

Danger! Falling rocks.

Private property, do not enter!

It's locked.

Quick, help me up through here.

Dark. Creepy

staircases lead nowhere.

     

Door to nowhere. Door to empty room.

     

Except for large French fireplace.

                                                                                          

Creepy. Did you hear that noise? Let's go.

But look, there's a view.

                                 

 Roquefort. "There's cheese in them hills".

"Boo! That was me making those noises before muh ha ha ha haa".

Obituary for Blindy and Blacky No. 2

Blindy and Blacky No. 2 were savagely killed last night by a predator that entered their coop. We are thankful that Blindy probably did not see it coming.

Blindy and Blacky No. 2 are survived by close friends Browny No. 1 and Browny No. 2, as well as Blacky’s sister, Blacky No. 1.

We will miss Blacky No. 2’s delicious eggs, and although Blindy did not contribute to the egg basket, we will miss her dearly. Blindy, who dressed in a beautiful black and white feather boa was a humorous old lady who entertained us on a daily basis. Blindy’s blindness did not deter her from living life to the full; she was an inspiration to us all.

Blindy and Blacky No. 2 were buried this morning beneath a beautiful East facing tree. We give thanks for the eggs you have contributed over your lives.  

Bawk bawk baaawk bawk bawk (may you rest in peace). 

Blacky No. 2 exhibiting her black and brown chest feathers.

Blindy in her black and white feather boa with Browny No. 1 and Browny No. 2.

A special moment for Ian on the eve of Blacky No. 2's death.

Blindy attempting to play 'peek-a-boo' through the branches.

Blindy and Blacky No. 2 amongst close friends and family.  

A little bit of Caniwi ingenuity

Sick and tired of the lack of storage space in our little flat, Ian and I put our thinking caps on and came up with an idea. Using some planks of wood and some bricks we found lying around (complete with pigeon poop/chicken poop/spiders/dirt/you name it) we created our own kitchen shelf and book shelf.    

The Great Spider Web Hunt

This morning I went hunting for spider webs. There was a blanket of heavy fog shrouding the property. It was a mist so thick that water particles were visible in the air and could be felt on my skin. Conditions were perfect. 

A spider web greeted me upon arrival at the chicken coop.

Spider webs also greeted me at the horse paddock.

Down in the paddock woven webs caressed every limb of every plant.

A network of silk entangled the tangled rose bush. 

A complex acrobatic and geometric lacework danced in the light. 

                       

Just when I thought my hunt was complete, I stumbled upon the most beautiful spider web I have ever seen. She floated between the mossy limbs of a dying tree with her lattice work of pearly thread. 

Glistening threads engulfed the tree.

This morning I went on a spider web hunt. Though one could hardly call it a hunt. Webs clung to every surface of every plant, tree and building. A network of silk hung over the property just like the thick morning mist. 

P is for Pasta

Pitch in a couple of eggs with 200 grams of flour. Plus a pinch of salt. Put it all together. Press it and pound with flour until it is no longer sticky. Push it through a pasta maker. Poilà. You have fresh pasta enough for 2-3 peeps.