Welcome back and bienvenue to new subscribers – it’s lovely to have you here!

If you’d like to read previous editions, they’re all available to you as a subscriber via the Adventures & Ateliers website.

Let’s begin : )

Alethea x

Armistice Day is almost universally observed in villages and towns across France. Every commune has its memorial to those who lost their lives in the First World War and beyond. In Campagnac Les Quercy, our ceremony is led by the Mairie, who heads the small procession through the village, followed by children carrying wreaths and flowers to lay at the monument. It’s a community moment of remembrance and good to see everyone, and while I still don’t know the words to the Marseillaise, I will learn them eventually! 

Around this time of year we usually see great migrations of cranes flying south overhead, their calls echoing as they fly in perfect V formation. Normally, they pass in huge numbers but this year, I’ve only seen one, relatively small, group – apparently, avian flu has decimated populations. Very sad. 

When I first set eyes on Les P, it was the roses at the gate that drew me in. These Pierre de Ronsard were planted by my predecessor, and my job is simply to keep them alive. Not being naturally green-fingered, I usually tackle the annual pruning with the help of a friend but this year I managed the fantail jigsaw toute seule : ) 

Yesterday, the temperature suddenly dropped ten degrees and we had the first frost – cue, one ecstatic puppy doing endless zoomies and rolls across the field!

La Petite Maison is available for longer term rentals between now and March, by direct arrangement. If you, or someone you know, is house-hunting, renovating, needs some peace to write or just fancies a few week’s quiet - do get in touch via this email : )

We’re looking forward to welcoming our first Winter visitors shortly.

Apparently, it’s one of the most loved homes available for rental on Airbnb 😃

It’s the 1^st of November 2024, and together with a pyromaniac friend (Si), I’m chucking bits of dried garden rubbish onto a small bonfire. We’d chosen a spot behind the grange, away from the abri area, and near enough one of the gigantic piles of cuttings amassed over the year to steadily feed the fire without too much additional legwork.

After lots of wafting at the baby flames, and overcoming my usual point of bonfire failure, Si had managed to coax a proper crackle into life. Now we just had to feed it. Reaching this point had taken some persuasion on both Harm and Si’s part since this was technically an illegal bonfire and I am very much an abide by the rules type of girl! 

With wildfires only a spark away during the Summer months, there are understandably strict rules around open flames of any kind: braais, bonfires, even garden power tools and agricultural machinery, lest a blade hitting a stone creates an errant spark. During canicules (heatwaves) when temperatures can hit 40+ the countryside turns crunchy, a giant tinderbox waiting for trouble. 

Since Autumns are mild and the fallen leaves practically qualify as kindling, bonfires aren’t permitted until November. From then until the end of February, people can clear the stacks of garden foliage, cuttings etc accumulated throughout the year. However, one caveat in our commune requires that, unless you are a farmer, you must complete a three-page form five days in advance and submit it to the mairie’s office for approval before striking a match. 

Bonfires are not my forte and I have a healthy respect / fear of fires in general. However, it became clear that unless I joined the annual garden rubbish burning crew I would be condemned to endless decheterie runs or forking out for large jardinage lorries to take everything away. So, on the few occasions necessity had triumphed over fire-fear, I dutifully completed and submitted the form to the mairie like an obedient schoolchild... 

Today’s fire had… no form. No stamp. No official anything. 

Recently, I’d begun casually asking neighbours whether they submitted forms for their bonfires, some of whom seemed to have them every evening. Not a single person did, and I asked a lot of people. More than one neighbour suggested I was probably the only person in the commune who had ever submitted a form at all. Excellent. 

Despite this new local insight, I remained nervous of getting caught. By whom, I wasn’t sure. Maybe the mairie, gendarmes or fire department? So, after much discussion with Harm and Si, my visiting friends, I agreed on a compromise: a discreet, mini-bonfire, in late afternoon, early evening, positioned as invisibly as possible from the village on the opposite hill. 

Si had added some branches, and the bonfire was now roaring, smoke curling straight upwards in a very satisfactory manner. He’d cracked open a beer, part of the requisite bonfire provisions, and was taking a break from fire-feeding to admire his handiwork. 

“It’s getting too big. People will see it” I fretted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s fine – you need to stop worrying” With at least eye-roll number seventeen. “Your neighbour had a huge fire last night; no-one is going to care”

“Yeah, but I’m a foreigner, what if I get caught and fined or something”

“You won’t” 

At that precise moment my phone pinged. On edge, I instantly checked it.  

“Oh my God. QUICK - put the fire out” I shrieked, sprinting for the hosepipe.  

“What, why?”

“A text from my neighbours - the Mairie’s been contacting people asking who’s having an unscheduled fire. Quick, we’ve got to put it out before he passes by.” 

The beer was abandoned and we both leapt into action. I legged it towards the house to fetch a hosepipe, while Si started filling a bucket with earth and chucking it onto the fire and stamping at the edges. 

“Oh my God, I knew this was a bad idea” 

I finally located the hosepipe, connected it, and dragged the stupid thing fifty metres towards the fire only to discover the grange water supply had been turned off. Cue a sprint back to the house. As I ran, my phone started ringing - it was the neighbour’s who’d sent the text. I answered, breathless, adrenaline fizzing. 

They were howling.   

“Haha, so funny – we can see you…” Snort, laugh, snort.

“What?”

“You’re running around, haha…”

“We got you…” 

Oh. My. God. “You absolute ****** I cannot believe you did that. I thought the Mairie was coming round, we’ve been trying to put the fire out.”

“We know! We can see you from our terrace. It’s been comedy gold, but we thought we’d better come clean before you actually succeeded.” They collapsed into giggles again. 

I returned to Si. “Stand down. It’s my friends playing a prank.” 

“Oh respect, that’s brilliant” The beer was quickly back in hand.   

Relief washed over me. Closely followed by a rising tide of ‘I will have my revenge’! 

We finished the fire properly and cleared the entire heap of garden rubbish. The sight of the cleared area the next morning was extremely satisfying, and there may have been some ‘got away with it’ glow too, perhaps even encouragement that future mini-bonfires might not always require epic form-filling. However, none of that dented the ongoing rounds of revenge prank thoughts in my head. Bravo, they really got me. Annoyingly, it was brilliant. Wish I’d done it : )   

“Totally brilliant joke” noted Harm, who’d been happily ensconced inside reading throughout. “You know they’re friends when they pull that kind of prank”. 

As we enter approved bonfire season once more, I can admit I have yet to exact an appropriate wind-up revenge for this dastardly joke. Ideas are still percolating though!

More Snapshots of the Domaine Les Plonges ‘journey’ every edition.

Possibly you found your way here via Instagram? @domainelesplonges? If so, an extra Bienvenue! You’ll already know I love a good visual. So here I’ll share others and a little more context behind the images…

Whether it’s discovering unique work by artists and designers from near and far or rummaging through vide greniers, brocantes, and hidden treasure troves, I’m always on the lookout! I’ll be sharing my favourite artists, designers and sourcing spots here 😄

“Do you carry a chainsaw in the car?”

“Err… no”

“Tu devrais, c’est fou de ne pas en avoir.”  

There are many reasons I don’t keep a handy chainsaw in my car, but the primary one is simple: I’m terrified of them. I simply do not trust myself not to inadvertently remove my finger, foot or worse. It’s the one piece of garden maintenance kit I outright refuse to engage with. I find the hedge-cutter scary enough. 

Whenever I relay this rationale, I’m fairly sure the person in question starts looking at me funny. Although, more recently, after being caught mid-disaster more than once, any odd looks are probably more along the lines of concern at the idea I might be driving around WITH a chainsaw. 

There have been plenty of ‘all the gear, no idea’ moments. In my valiant (!) attempts to master some new element of land management, I’ll set off in determined fashion – strimmer, gloves, helmet, harness etc – towards a tree or bramble patch, only to manage an epic fail. Always, inevitably, in full view of a passing tractor or friendly neighbour. 

The cattle farmer once kindly stopped his tractor to show me how to start the strimmer. Possibly the fact I was dressed like a safety cartoon and was, at that precise moment, kicking and swearing at the insubordinate machine made him either pity me or the strimmer. 

Mastering the strimmer has taken years, I do not quip. Friends have patiently re-taught me how to start this (not terribly complicated) machine about a million times. I now keep a step-by-step guide in my phone because, without fail, every Spring I forget how to start the bloody thing. 

It’s the same scenario with the garden tractor. My initial hesitancy about needing what felt like an armoury of garden equipment disappeared the moment I moved here full-time. Before, when I wasn’t in situ, I had to hire garden professionals to tackle things; now I was here, I could do more myself. Being around more, coupled with the frustration of trying to book someone for small jobs at the right time meant some garden equipment investment was wise. The cost of the tractor paid for itself within two years versus hiring someone to do the mowing. 

Fortunately, I had the good sense (and some good advice) to purchase both garden tractor and strimmer at our local garden machinery place – and honestly, this has been a godsend. 

Back to the chainsaw… Everyone living in these parts has encountered the fallen tree across the lane scenario. Being so rural, it can take ages for roads to be cleared after a big storm, hence the widespread habit of keeping a chainsaw in the car.   

Recently though, there seems to have been a return to more traditional tools. Thanks in part to La Frontière Outils, a local business specialising in handmade axes and every imaginable type of cutting implement. You can always tell when one of their team has been at work: a fallen tree looks as though it’s been almost artistically dealt with. 

They’ve just moved into a newly renovated atelier in the village. Their team is full of expert woodsmen, charpentiers and designers and with La Frontière Outils crew being just up the road, combined with knowledgeable neighbours all around, I’ve decided I may continue to drive around with neither chainsaw or axe. Probably safer for everyone. 

Tools? Really? A “Sourced” segment on these from me? I understand the incredulity from anyone who knows me. Interior decor stuff, yes, absolutely, but garden equipment…!! Clearly, and by my own admission, I am not an expert in this area but as these things are essentials of rural French life, I do have two thoughts to share: 

1 - Shop local for this kind of kit. Preferably with a friend who knows the right questions to ask. The local post-sale help is second to none. 

2 - Know your limits! Get professional help for stuff you’re more likely to kill yourself trying : )

Mille mercis to those of you who responded to last edition’s Q: Any top writing tips to share? Your replies, including from two published authors, were full of useful advice.

What I found interesting was the unanimous vote for simply getting everything onto the page first, without worrying too much about structure, and editing later. Others mentioned keeping an eye out for tautologies, split infinitives and the creeping in of ‘marketing bingo’ style words – all of which I am occasionally guilty of! Much appreciated advice – thank you all 😃

Simply put, for two key reasons:

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