I'm a happily married mum of two boys, aged 17 and 19, and as a family we moved to France eleven years ago. My husband works for a French company, I teach English to French people aged 6 - 60, and English reading and writing to the English-speaking children of the area. We are part of an English speaking church in Lyon. I love to shop for French vintage lace, fabric and household items, and to combine them with my British and global treasures in interesting ways.
Thanks for coming over to my British-meets-French Vintage blog! Please leave a comment - I love to hear from anyone who takes the time to read my posts, and I try to pop back and visit your blogs whenever I can.
If you'd like to know what my blog's name means, click here for the explanation!
I am not a perfect mother or housewife. There is dog hair under the sofa and the boys eat with their elbows on the table, however much they're nagged. I just assume you'd rather see the pretty stuff!
Forget-me-nots from Niki's garden (Nostalgia at the Stonehouse)
Monday, September 24, 2012
Autumn Camping Trip
Ben's always loved the idea of going camping on his birthday weekend.
When the boys were younger it used to be exhausting for them, and we stopped after a few attempts, but now they're big and strong and setting off after school and setting up the tent seems to be no big deal any more.
Autumn crocus flowers stick their little green spikes up through the damp grass or the leaf mould every morning, and purple petals slowly unfurl as the sun strikes them.
Son 1 got very interested in photographing the fungi which surrounded us, and we foraged for hazelnuts, walnuts and blackberries, although we didn't take any photos of those as we were too busy eating them!
On the Saturday morning, the boys lolled around the campsite (freedom!) while Ben and I headed up the hill opposite, following a track Ben had discovered a few years ago.
The walk took us past a dissenters' graveyard (unlike similar groups in the UK, these Christians were refusing to worship in Napoleon's state church) and a little shrine to a saint who may be as much a pagan memory as an actual Catholic personage.
There was a tiny, dark shepherd's hut, which seems to have been used within living memory.
And then we burst out of the shade of the trees and up to the little peak, looking down over the village of Biert and towards Massat.
In the afternoon the boys and our increasingly elderly Raja joined us for a walk around some hillside farms and hamlets a few mile further away.
Raja had the time of her life, sniffing among the autumn crocuses and in the very best of company.
We saw some of the culprits who attempt to keep us awake at nights with their traditional mountain cowbells. You have to forgive them when they look this cute... and anyway, after those walks, nothing stopped us from sleeping!
It was a really wonderful weekend away, a beautiful break from the term-time slog, and a reminder of family holidays past and those yet to come.