From the terrace this morning and all along the line of the south eastern horizon came the Pyrenees, lit by the sun, snow covered and the nearest ones 150klm away.
This clear sighting of the mountains is, the locals tell us a sign of rain.
What kind of tree is it, in the left angle of the photo ? Un grenadier ?
Martin
on March 30, 2010
What you see is the berries from the Persian Lilac Tree in our garden.
This is known as Lilas d’Inde in French and Melia Azedarach in Latin.
It has lovely blossom in May and then these balls which in our sheltered back garden persist right through the year.
Rita
on March 30, 2010
The French signs of rain have something in common with ours. My grandmother and greatgrandmother learned this poem in the national school in the 19th century.
The Signs of Rain
The hollow winds begin to blow,
The clouds look black, the glass is low;
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,
And spiders from their cobwebs creep.
Hark! How the chairs and tables crack.
Old Betty’s joints are on the rack;
Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry;
The distant hills are looking nigh.
How restless are the snorting swine!
The busy flies disturb the kine:
Low o’er the grass the swallow wings;
The cricket too, how sharp he sings:
Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,
Sits, wiping o’er her whiskered jaws.
Through the clear stream the fishes rise,
And nimbly catch the thoughtless flies.
The frog has changed his yellow vest,
And in a russet coat is drest:
My dog, so altered in his taste,
Quits mutton bones, on grass to feast;
And see yon rooks, how odd their flight
They imitate the gliding kite,
And headlong downward seem to fall,
As if they felt the piercing ball;
Twill surely rain, I see with sorrow,
Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.
Martin
on March 31, 2010
I remember once in Killarney a man telling us that if we could see the Macgillicuddy Reeks from the town it was going to rain- and if we couldn’t it was raining already.
Greg Scanlon
on March 31, 2010
Hi Martin,
Photo of Pyrenees is a lovely reminder of a drive I took from Toulouse to Luchon some years ago. The same magical sense of the mountains appearing to float. (Lovely hotel le Sapin Fleurie, with great food, (Italian trained, french chef, for a cross cultural experience) in the valley above Luchon. Anyway, the purpose of my comment is to make the complaint which I didnt make to you in person on your Christmas visit, namely that I had been guiding a class to swimming each Tuesday at exactly the right time for your WLR link and, entertaining as the item invariably was, the bus journey reminded me of just how much I missed France. Im joking of course as your radio link actually gave me a fond weekly reminder of the little things about France and being there that Deirdre and i both love. So thank you for my weekly top up. Travelling there tonight anyway so Im close to getting my frequently required French fix. Glad you’re both keeping so well.
Greg.
Martin
on March 31, 2010
Thanks Greg.
Its Gods own country for food and sun.
Comments
martine
on March 30, 2010What kind of tree is it, in the left angle of the photo ? Un grenadier ?
Martin
on March 30, 2010What you see is the berries from the Persian Lilac Tree in our garden.
This is known as Lilas d’Inde in French and Melia Azedarach in Latin.
It has lovely blossom in May and then these balls which in our sheltered back garden persist right through the year.
Rita
on March 30, 2010The French signs of rain have something in common with ours. My grandmother and greatgrandmother learned this poem in the national school in the 19th century.
The Signs of Rain
The hollow winds begin to blow,
The clouds look black, the glass is low;
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,
And spiders from their cobwebs creep.
Hark! How the chairs and tables crack.
Old Betty’s joints are on the rack;
Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry;
The distant hills are looking nigh.
How restless are the snorting swine!
The busy flies disturb the kine:
Low o’er the grass the swallow wings;
The cricket too, how sharp he sings:
Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,
Sits, wiping o’er her whiskered jaws.
Through the clear stream the fishes rise,
And nimbly catch the thoughtless flies.
The frog has changed his yellow vest,
And in a russet coat is drest:
My dog, so altered in his taste,
Quits mutton bones, on grass to feast;
And see yon rooks, how odd their flight
They imitate the gliding kite,
And headlong downward seem to fall,
As if they felt the piercing ball;
Twill surely rain, I see with sorrow,
Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.
Martin
on March 31, 2010I remember once in Killarney a man telling us that if we could see the Macgillicuddy Reeks from the town it was going to rain- and if we couldn’t it was raining already.
Greg Scanlon
on March 31, 2010Hi Martin,
Photo of Pyrenees is a lovely reminder of a drive I took from Toulouse to Luchon some years ago. The same magical sense of the mountains appearing to float. (Lovely hotel le Sapin Fleurie, with great food, (Italian trained, french chef, for a cross cultural experience) in the valley above Luchon. Anyway, the purpose of my comment is to make the complaint which I didnt make to you in person on your Christmas visit, namely that I had been guiding a class to swimming each Tuesday at exactly the right time for your WLR link and, entertaining as the item invariably was, the bus journey reminded me of just how much I missed France. Im joking of course as your radio link actually gave me a fond weekly reminder of the little things about France and being there that Deirdre and i both love. So thank you for my weekly top up. Travelling there tonight anyway so Im close to getting my frequently required French fix. Glad you’re both keeping so well.
Greg.
Martin
on March 31, 2010Thanks Greg.
Its Gods own country for food and sun.
The comments are closed.