Today it is (yet another) public holiday here in France. We got up early because, we both need to drive to the airport this afternoon, one of us to leave for a few days and the other to pick up Mlle Tialys the elder who is visiting home for the rest of the month to get her breath back after the endless
parties and general student goings on studying of the past university year. But first we wanted to go to a plant and brocante market and the village which holds this annual event also has its usual market day on Monday mornings so it gets absolutely packed and it is difficult to park, walk or breathe if you leave it too late. Ask me how I know. Also it is really hot at the moment and it is better to get these things done in the relative cool of the morning.
Not a photo of me this morning – though quite close. Do you think he looks prettier for having a rose growing behind his ear? This had happened by accident, not design, which is why I took the photo.
We went to the market with the intention of buying a plant or tree to go over the final resting place of our old German Shepherd, Phoebe, who died last year and was buried (with much exertion and dedication – she weighed 45kg) on one of the higher terraces in our garden. At the moment she is covered in Iris flowers but we wanted something more permanent. However, it was mostly herbaceous plants for sale so we ended up with a plumbago for the terrace
and a bignone for somewhere else in the garden but we don’t know where yet.
Of course the brocante part was not neglected and I found this lovely brass cherub holding aloft a diamond cut glass coupe surrounded by flying birds. Over the top? Mais, non! Well, a bit I suppose but it is very Paris Appartment as I like to call this style (or Hollywood Glamour if you prefer)
I have an obsession with old French cutting boards at the moment. I love that they were probably made by the man of the house and used to death for years and years. I love the primitive way they have been fashioned, the visible marks of years of use and the grain and texture of the wood. Most of them I find are in an unloved state but I give them a light sanding and a coat or two of food safe oil and this usually brings the grain up to its former glory. These old cutting boards are made in very primitive fashion, practically hewn out of the trunk – I’ve had some still with the bark on before. They are generally really thick and chunky and lopsided, covered in knife cuts and with deep depressions where food has been chopped or bread sliced for many years. They are gorgeous.
Here are some I’ve had in the past all with their own characters and now in new homes for an even more extended useful (or decorative) life.
It doesn’t matter if they are split, scratched and holey.
This handle has worn smooth with use and has a deep depression in the centre where most of the chopping and cutting went on.
A lovely big knot in this one.
Usually, I am persuaded(!) that we cannot keep more than one cutting board – although I have kept a gorgeous small version which is easily concealed – but today I found one that I won’t be parting with.
It weighs nearly 3kg (around 6.6lbs)
what’s not to love?