Not quite self-sufficiency

This year has been the most amazing year for fruit.  With absolutely no attention from me, my little garden has produced a super-abundance.

The tomato plants ran riot, not so much climbing as crawling, but still giving me more fruit than I can eat.  Tomato soup recipes are being consulted daily. 

The grapes came early but there were plenty for the birds.  There's supposed to be a black grape vine too but it may have been overwhelmed by the green.  Their primary purpose is to provide shade for the sitting out area so I shouldn't complain.

The pears have been as good as they always are.  I have no idea what to do to keep them in good order, so they look after themselves and make a good job of it.  I won't interfere.

And this little fellow comes harvesting daily.  Usually he's too fast for me but I managed to get a couple of pictures, blurry but...

At the moment he's more interested in the neighbour's walnut tree.  The walnuts are as big as his head but he still manages to run like the wind carrying one in his mouth.  I think he was planning to hide it in my garden until he thought I was paying too much attention.  So off he ran.

Argenton sur Creuse

Argenton lies on the river Creuse in the centre of France.  It has two and a half bridges: one old, one new, and one ruined.  The ruined one is probably not even a half because you can't see it if the river is high.

The old bridge

The old bridge was built in the Middle Ages when the old town spread from the hill on the left bank to the right.  Traffic still uses it.

The new bridge

The new bridge doesn't have a great deal going for it apart from reflections in the river.  It does offer some lovely views of the riverside houses.

Right bank

Argenton is occasionally referred to as the Venice of the Berry region, a French region pre-dating the current ones, but that seems something of a stretch.  However, I can't deny the houses are picturesque.  The church in the background is St Saveur.  The origins of St Saveur probably date to the 13th century but the bell tower you can see is much more recent.

Left bank

On the opposite side is the hill where the oldest part of the town lies.  The nearest church is the 15-16th century Chapelle Saint Benoit, now an exhibition centre.  At the top of the hill is a massive statue of La Bonne Dame above a chapel of the same name, built on the remains of a 2nd century sanctuary.  The Bonne Dame d'Argenton is revered as having protected the town from the plague in 1632.

The banks of the river are lined with old buildings and mills because Argenton's prosperity grew in the 13th century from flour mills and especially bark mills right up until the 19th century.  Bark mills, I had to look it up, are mills that grind up parts of trees into a fine powder used to tan leather.

This mill, shown from two different directions, has been converted into at least two homes as far as I could see.

A 15th century manor house or mansion, hôtel particulier Duperthuis, one of the first in the lower town.  I hope nobody was at home when I peered through the gate to take the picture.  It looks all shuttered up.

A disused mill wheel on the opposite bank.

Some other riverside houses.  And finally, a last look at the old bridge.

The hurdy gurdy man (and woman)

The weather recently has been changeable to say the least. Heavy rain, light rain, thunderstorms, interspersed by occasional glimpses of blue sky. So today when it looked as if there might be occasional glimpses of blue sky, I headed off to the local castle where they were having an exhibition, international no less, of basketry and wicker-work. I'm not frantically interested in wicker-work but I most certainly am interested in blue sky.

There were glimpses of blue sky and the sun did shine but as you can see, there were black clouds around just to make sure nobody became too complacent.

In the midst of wandering around all the exhibits, I suddenly noticed music playing and a troupe of folk dancers appeared.

They are a troupe specialising in the local Berry Region music, song and dance.  The Berry is one of the old French provinces, now split into the Cher, Indre and part of Vienne.  The capital used to be Bourges.

The tradition is to wear clogs and most of the dancers were, to my surprise.  It seems to me to be a very special accomplishment to be able to dance in clogs.  They very sensibly wore thick woolly socks inside the clogs. 

The dances seemed relatively sedate.  This one seemed to consist of several steps and a little jump.  I would have loved to have managed a shot of all dancers in the air, but that requires some co-operation from the dancers.

All the dancing was accompanied by players on the vielle à roue, a medieval instrument.  There is an annual festival of music each year of Maîtres-Sonneurs or master players.

Carvings on a nearby church, showing a vielle à roue being played.  I'm not sure of the significance of that, nor of the donkey playing a harp.

After that they disappeared back into the catle, with me in pursuit, taking photos wherever I could.  To follow.