Wednesday Vine Report #8

Vine watching has made me notice things more. By paying particular attention to what’s happening in the vines, it’s as if my eyes have been opened to much more besides. I’m seeing flowers and wildlife I never noticed before. The mountains around us change with the light. Sometimes they completely disappear into a blue haze. At other times, when they are backlit, they seem close enough to touch. The rest of me is becoming more attuned to my surroundings, too. I can feel shifts in the weather; sense changes in pressure. I can tell with my eyes closed when there’s a storm on the way. And, hey, I must be benefitting from all that extra walking I’m doing up hill and down dale.

The weather is peculiar this year. Although we’ve had days warm enough to wear flip flops and a few evenings warm enough to eat outdoors and do a spot of GaryWatching, spring has stayed generally much cooler than usual. Also, we’ve had more rain. As a result, weeds and grasses are growing to monster proportions. There’s more work in the vineyards.

vineyard weeding
clearing between the vines

Weeds love the weather we’ve been having: cooler, damper. They’re not welcome. They have to go. Out come the tractors again, towing their little rotavators. In the picture above, note the air-condtioning unit on top of the cab. When this grower’s grandfather tended the vines, he wouldn’t have had such a luxury on his horse and cart!

cultivator
getting ready for the next row

Drivers have to swing out into the lanes to make their turn for the next row. Where there is no lane to use, the turn is too sharp and the pattern of work shifts to tilling alternate rows. In places where it’s narrower still, they work every third row, backwards and forwards through the vineyard till it’s all done.

Then you get a clear picture of those familiar stripes running through the land.

vineyard rows
working in the vines

Our Mademoiselle Merlot is now quite a lady. Here she is in close up, showing healthy babies on the way.

Merlot grapes
sunshine in the Merlot vineyard

High winds this last week have caused some damage to the vines on the outer rows where the stalks have been snapped clean away from the branch. But our baby is looking fine and has come through the gales in good condition.

Rainstorms always come to this part of France in early spring at the transition between cool weather and the powerful heat of summer, but this year it’s happened later.

There is STILL snow on top of Canigou and until it’s gone we can expect more cool winds. However, the vineyards look good to me.

Merlot vineyard
Merlot vineyard looking toward the coast.

The hill in the far distance is Mont St. Loup which overlooks Cap d’Agde, a popular holiday resort with French families. Every water sport you can think of is there. In July and August Cap d’Agde is as packed with people as our vineyards are full of grapes. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you get the picture.

As for the Chardonnay vineyard which, you remember is across the lane. Here’s this morning’s photo.

Chardonnay vines
Chardonnay reaching for the sky
Chardonnay vines
Chardonnay vines a few weeks ago

I was standing in my usual spot to take this picture. It’s only a matter of weeks since I said that in a short time you wouldn’t be able to see through the foliage to the earth between the rows. The contrast is remarkable.

I’ll keep watching to see what the growers do about all that whippy growth. My feeling is most of it will be cut back.

vineyards
another view of rolling vineyards

More vines further along this morning’s vineyard walk. There are so many lanes criss-crossing through the vineyards, you can take a different walk every day and catch different views of the countryside. Sometimes, something unexpected happens, like the day I saw the perfect circle drawn in the sky by a fighter jet.

This morning’s surprise was a solitary figure hand-hoeing between the vines. My camera is always ready so I asked him for permission to take his picture. When he learned I was going to put him on the internet, he was happy to oblige.

beans and grapes
pulling up beans

Between each vine, this wine grower is using the space to grow broad beans. I hadn’t seen this before. Whether there is mutual benefit to beans and grapes I couldn’t say. My French isn’t good enough to understand everything he was saying and his French sounded Spanish. Many of the growers in our departement of Herault came from Spain to find work and settled here. They speak French, but with Spanish intonation. It’s lovely, but difficult for me to follow.

He insisted we took some beans. They’ll be fantastic lightly steamed and with a knob of butter on top.

broad beans
they don’t come much fresher than this . . .

I hope you’re enjoying this weekly catch up with what’s happening in the vineyards near my home. I’m certainly enjoying putting it together. I’d like to say thank you for visiting my website. Do please leave a comment if you wish and don’t forget to sign up for news of new posts.

Cheers!

Celia

P.S. Due to computer problems, I’m posting this week’s report early, while my machine is up and running. It keeps turning itself off. The poor old girl is due for retirement.

Learning the hard way. Is it wicked to let it happen?

learning the hard way
sometimes you have to learn the hard way

I’m the one who is supposed to be wicked. I’m the stepmother, the one who might not have the child’s best interests at heart. The one whose motives are always going to be suspect.

I’m having one of those days. Stepmothers will know what I mean. Ladies, if you’re contemplating becoming a stepmother, better read up about it first. Especially if the ex-wife is a late wife. You are taking on more than you know. This isn’t the place to go into too much detail, much as I would like to. The bereaved child is a very serious subject and deserves more than a post on a blog. In any case, the specific issues of being stepmother to a bereaved child are not what I wish to address here. I have something much more generalized in mind.

A Facebook friend recently shared a piece about the benefits of allowing children to be bored. Some university prof had just come out with something I’ve been saying for years. If your ten-year-old is bored, let her fix it. It’s her problem, not yours. Wow! Somebody got paid to write this down?

I remember a time when Gollum Boy was little and in a strop. He wasn’t getting his own way. Father had other things to do just at that time and couldn’t do whatever it was young son wanted. Young son pouted. Young son wailed. Young son went into a tantrum because he’d learned that tantrums usually worked for him. But, on this occasion, I was in charge.

The tantrum was building into meltdown because father wasn’t available. I said, ‘Why don’t you find something to do that makes you feel better than how you feel right now?’

‘I’m BORED,’ he shouted.

‘I’m busy,’ I said and left him to it.

I went to the kitchen and clattered about doing a bit of washing dishes etc. When I went back to the living room, young son had found something to do. AND SOLVED HIS OWN PROBLEM.

Now we’re getting to the crux of this.

Here’s what I think: if you ALWAYS fix things for your kids, they never learn how to fix it themselves. In the case of the university professor and current thinking on childhood boredom, the fixing of the problem by parent figure doesn’t allow the child to use his/her own creativity. Eventually, according to the prof, children may lose the ability to use their creativity. They might forget how to imagine. So, by fixing the boredom problem, you could be doing more harm than good.

Back to this morning. As you know, the young son in my Wicked Stepmother Chronicles is now Gollum Boy, addicted to online gaming and not wanting to do much else. If you’ve read my previous posts, you will also know that we have been having an ongoing battle between the three of us which came to a head when Gollum Boy almost passed out at school.

You have probably also worked out my methods by now, too. It doesn’t take an expert tactician to see that I have employed an attack and immediate retreat modus operandi whenever these issues crop up. I have my two penny worth, say what I think needs to be said and retire from the theatre of battle to let biological parent and teenage son sort it out between them.

Still with me? Good. Here it is, then. School holidays are over. Back to school. On the third day, Gollum Boy is too tired to get up in time to catch the school bus. The last time this happened, biological parent (BP) drove to school and arrived at the same time as the bus so errant teenager didn’t get into trouble for being late. On his return, the BP said,

‘I’ve told him. This is the last time I’m getting him out of it. Next time he misses the bus, he’ll have to catch the later one and face the music when he’s late.’

Guess what happened this morning.

The alarm must not have gone off was the first excuse. There followed a volley of further excuses as BP hurriedly got into his shoes and rushed out the door to drive Gollum Boy to school.

I was waiting for BP’s return. I reminded him what he’d said the last time this happened. But I added more.

‘You’re as good as stealing from him,’ I said.

‘Don’t be dramatic.’

‘Don’t be in denial,’ I came back quick as a flash. ‘You need to hear this. You’re stealing from him. You’re robbing him of opportunities to learn from his own mistakes. We both know why he couldn’t get up this morning. He NEEDS to experience the discomfort of being in trouble for missing the start of classes.’

robber
stealing away your child’s chance to learn the hard way?

I went further. See, I know what I’d do if I were dealing with one of my own or one of yours or anybody’s child I was taking care of.

There would be an X-Box ban tonight. A laptop ban tonight. A tablet ban tonight. Smartphone ban tonight.

Actions and consequences, junior. We all have to face them. That would be my message.

But I’m the wicked stepmother and I’m getting tired of being the one with the tough love message.

Please feel free to add your comments. Your email remains private.

I’d love to hear what some of you think.

Wednesday Vine Report #7 15th May 2013

It’s just six weeks since I began the Wednesday Vine report. The vineyards look completely different from that first day. In pictures from Vine Report number one, we were looking for the first signs of sprouting buds. Today, you can hardly see the earth between rows of lush, green growth.

DSCN0404

Merlot vines day one
early April

I’ve seen the winegrowers out in the vines spraying again. We’ve had overnight rains, too, and everything is growing like the clappers, including, of course, all the weeds. I’ve never seen thistles so high or so many poppies popping up everywhere.

Poppies in the vines
poppies in the vineyards

The wind is sometimes still quite cool. There’s still snow atop the Pyrenees so if the wind’s coming from that direction, it’s like having nature’s air-conditioning system on. Or standing by the chiller cabinets in the supermarket.

France weather map
meteo France weather map

We’re all keeping an eye on the weather. It’s been an unusual spring so far. Very changeable. Temperatures playing yo-yo. The forecast from Thursday is not so good.

We don’t want those storms wandering our way. Heavy rain or the possibility of hail would not be welcome here. The baby grapes are setting on their stalks. Hail and heavy rain now would damage them. This year, everything seems to be at least three weeks behind its usual pace of development and that late snow on Canigou might have delighted skiers, but is causing headaches down here.

baby grapes
tender young growth

These babies really have all the water they need. The water table is high. Drainage ditches are still running with water that leaks from the land and is channeled down the hills toward the run-offs.

What’s required now is a bit less wind and warm, warm sun, building up to hot, hot sun for juicy fat fruit.

Merlot Day One
Merlot Day One

Mademoiselle Merlot is romping along the support wires. She’s got a lot of frilly, fresh green on her skirts and is looking really quite playful. Doing a line dance!

Here she is below, taking centre stage in this photograph, almost unrecognisable from the picture on the left on Day One. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that an old gnarled, knobbly bit of a stick like that can turn into a vibrant plant with such abundant, verdant growth?

Merlot vine
Mademoiselle Merlot – centre frame May 15th 2013

But that’s not the best bit, is it? The fruits that come along later go into the finest wine, able to grace the most discerning table.

Chardonnay vines
Chardonnay vines

Across the lane in the Chardonnay vineyard, the vines are still leading the race as you’d expect. They look as though they are enjoying the cooler conditions this spring. Their side of the hill is turning completely green.

Languedoc vneyards
. . . as far as the eye can see

I can’t imagine I would ever tire of looking at this place where I’m lucky to live. I love it in all its seasons. We don’t have an extravagant lifestyle, but this beautiful country offers riches beyond what money can buy.

The lanes through the vineyards cross vistas so stunning they take your breath away.

Pyracantha
hedges full of blossom

Pyracantha hedges are full of blossom now and loud with the humming of bees. The sky is such a perfect blue it looks unreal. Look closer into the blossom where the buzzing noise is coming from.

busy bee
where would we be without her?

These Pyracantha hedges are great for wildlife. In spring they’re full of bees and in autumn they’re full of birds eating the orange berries. What a fabulous system. We should do all we can to support the natural way of doing things.

That’s it for this week. I’ll leave you with a couple more pictures of our walk through the vines.

Languedoc vines
looking toward the water tower

You can see the Montagnes Noir in the background.

wild flowers
California poppies growing wild
blue butterfly
Cupido Minimus Minimus – small blue butterfly

I found these California poppies growing wild in a patch of scrubland. Their bright orange contrasts well with the surrounding green. I think I might crop this image and use it for one of my random headers.

There are so many butterflies as you walk through the heath, it seems the air is filled with them as if you’d just walked into a Disney cartoon. Ah well, it’s appropriate. Sometimes I do feel like Mary Poppins – there’s so much magic going on all around.

And here’s where it culminates – one of these every day and you could be like the French, who despite their love of pastries and dairy have the lowest incidence of heart problems in all Europe.

glassmerlot
good health to you. Cheers!

Write from the heart. A cry from mine.

Easy to say. Write from the heart. Four words. That’s all. They take less than a second to say. writefromtheheart

Oh, but the questions they plant in my thinking. I’ve already spent years looking for answers.

How does what’s in your heart fit all those preconceived ideas about genre? Will your heart find its place on the bookshelves among other people’s writings from their hearts?

What if you’ve got a heart that keeps changing its mind? What if your heart wants to swim with dolphins one day and the next wants to stuff its face with clotted cream? And aren’t you just so jaded anyway with other people’s definitions about what kind of literature belongs where?

Matt Haig is. I follow his blog. I suggest you do too if, like us, you wonder why we limit ourselves with these outdated ways of classifying literature.

Matt’s not afraid to sell himself. He makes no excuses for promoting his work. His book THE HUMANS is out now and I can’t wait to get a copy. I love his take on the world of publishing and the naughty way he encourages us to break the rules. I admire his focus.

My focus changes. All the time. I write short stories that women’s magazines love. I also get a lot of rejections from the same magazines when my stories are too downbeat, too odd, too sad.

The January Girl who always feels short changed.

Not Rodgers and Hammerstein – an unconventional love story

The End of the World Party – relationships crumble at the dinner table

The Meter Man – living with someone’s annoying habits.

There’s a list as long as your arm of these stories which don’t seem to fit.

This is what I mean by swimming with dolphins one day etc. I want to write sad stories. I also want to write stories that make people laugh out loud. I see magic hiding in the vineyards around my home and I see danger lurking in the same places when the weather turns. I want to write ALL these things. Not something that neatly fits a place in somebody else’s categories.

I demand the right to write from my changeable heart. No, that’s probably too strong a word. I assert the right to write from my changeable heart. There, that doesn’t sound so angry. It’s nobody’s fault I crave so much variety, that my heart goes off in all these different directions. Maybe I should have been an octopus. They’ve got three. The extra arms would be useful, too. Do octopi sing, I wonder?

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Wednesday Vine Report #6

I don’t want to miss out anything important from my Vine Reports. Sometimes, there are things happening in the vines that I’d miss if I waited for Wednesday. That’s why on Sunday morning when I heard engines and activity at first light I was up out of bed and rushing out the door camera in hand. This is what was going on:

water pump by the cemetery wall
old-fashioned water pump at the top of the hill

Wine growers spray the crops with a copper sulphate mixture to prevent powdery mildew, a fungus that can affect grapes and decimate harvests. At the brow of the hill, there’s an old-fashioned water pump. Due to our location close to mountains and river gorges, our aquifers can be quite high after heavy spring rain. Water races toward the villages in the foothills. Drainage ditches fill with fresh water, rich in minerals.

The wine growers add water to their tanks of copper sulphate to make the right mixture. It’s like what we common or garden growers would call Bordeaux mixture. Professor of botany Pierre Millardet of the university of Bordeaux discovered in the late 1800s that a mixture of copper sulphate and lime had fungicidal properties.

Chardonnay treatment
early on a wind-free Sunday morning
spraying the grapes
turning for the next row

 

grape spraying
cute little tractor

 

 

 

 

I like these cute little tractors. They remind me of some of the picture books I used to read with my children. Working machines all had sweet little faces and going out to work physically hard looked such jolly good fun children wanted to do it when they grew up.

 

tommytractor
a favourite book

 

 

 

I can still remember some of the words of favourite Ladybird books. Weren’t they wonderful illustrations too? Oh, shouldn’t all children have those to look at when they’re little? And aren’t the originals just the best, or am I just feeling my age?

Who could ever forget . . .Little Tommy, Ginger’s neighbour called for Ginger every day. Took him out in wind and sunshine, out across the fields to play . . .

Ginger's adventures
a favourite Ladybird book

I’d better stop. I’m filling up!

Back to the vineyards. The tractors might be cutesy looking things but they work hard, out in the wind and sunshine, out across the fields to . . . work the vines, clear the rows, protect the grapes from powdery mildew.

Here’s how the Merlot vineyard looked on Sunday morning. I was waiting for this morning for the up to date close-up.

Merlot vines
Mesdames Merlot 7am Sunday 5th May

The sun was in exactly the wrong place for this early morning photograph of our vineyard of Merlot grapes. Our Mademoiselle is in there, front row, doing very nicely.

Spraying takes place every 6 to 10 days, depending on the temperature and humidity etc., but according to one wine grower, you can cease spraying once the grapes are set. I suppose they all have their preferred methods based on what their fathers and grandfathers did before. They probably still argue over which method is best.

Wine growers are always first to gather at the Bar in the village centre. You can see them having their early morning coffee and pastis before they return to work. Their faces are lined by the sun; their hands gnarled by the wind. They look like their own vines.

Merlot vine
Wednesday 8th May

So here she is, our Mademoiselle Merlot. She’s looking perky this morning, wouldn’t you say? The sun is already casting shadows and I’m out here in the vineyards by myself. Soon there’ll be dog walkers and a few serious runners. As summer progresses, they’ll be out earlier before it gets too hot.

And now, Mr de Mille, I’m ready for my close-up.

Merlot flower spikes
I’m ready for my close-up!

Aww! Baby grapes! Oh-la-la, Mademoiselle. You are soooo beautiful. Hold it right there. Don’t flutter a leaf. Let me drink you in.

Not yet, Celia. Don’t get carried away. This is the Vine Report not a cheesy chapter in second rate erotica. Pull yourself together. What’s happening in the Chardonnay vineyard?

Chardonnay vines
Chardonnay week six
Merlot vines
looking toward the coast

A fine sight. I can almost hear corks popping.

Waiting for Gary. Who is he?

My sister called him Gary. We go in for a bit of alliteration where we’re from. He could be a Georgina for all we know, but Gary presented as a good Cinsault-fuelled suggestion one evening last summer and the name stuck as fast as Gary’s suckered feet. (Clue #1)

geckofeet
what Gary’s foot looks like magnified

The way Gary and his ilk are able to hang on to vertical surfaces, not to mention feel comfortable hanging on completely upside down has interested scientists for years. Only recently have they invented a new glue that mimics the properties of our Gary’s feet. Apparently this new glue is so strong you’ll be able to stick a 42 inch screen television straight onto your living room wall.

Last year, Gary became part of our late night entertainment. We’d watch, in awe, as he lassoed his supper. We’d wonder how in hell he could move that fast and jump out from a perpendicular position without falling off the wall. (Clue #2)

If you followed the previous link, you’ll know who Gary is now if you hadn’t worked it out already. You didn’t really need those clues, did you? He’s the type of his species that like hanging around (Ha, Ha) people and houses. Gary made his summer home behind one of our French window shutters. We don’t know where he goes in winter. We had a very strong feeling he would survive those snows we had in January. He’d got big. Very big. He must be reaching his full size. Maybe this summer could be his last.

So, there I was after dinner last night wondering when he’d show up again this year.

The night was warm. Ten pm and still 25 degrees. The signs were good. I saw bats zipping about beyond our garden gate; a Scops owl was hooping in the distance. I call them submarine birds: their call reminds me of WW2 movies set in a sub with that tooting noise going on in the background. Here, have a listen. You’ll see what I mean.

It was time. I got out the special equipment.

coffee and brandy
special equipment for waiting for Gary

I put it in the waiting for Gary area, directly below his favourite roof space where the outdoor lights attract fat moths for his main course and a selection of juicy six-legged appetizers for hors d’oeuvres.

My camera was charged and ready.

I sipped at my special equipment. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement. I looked up at the lights. What was that dark shape?

moth-catching light
Gary’s fave hunting spot

There was movement  all right. From both ends of the terrace. Two small ones, but when I moved they disappeared behind the roof beams. I waited. Gary is not going to like bandits on his patch, I thought. I ran out of special equipment. Took the offered refill from himself who was watching television.

Gary’s not coming, said himself. Not tonight. Why don’t you come indoors and watch the news?

I went indoors to watch the news. I sat. Himself was staring out the window at the light on the wall opposite the one in the photograph.

WTF? Is THAT Gary? Can’t be. It’s GODZILLA!

Too late. My camera isn’t out of its case before he’s disappeared. Probably sorting out the two invaders. Next time I’ll wait longer and double up on the special equipment.

 

 

50 Shades Greyer. Remember Gollum Boy?

gollum
Gollum Boy working at his ‘precious’.

Gollum Boy is 50 shades greyer. You remember Gollum Boy, the teenage person who lives upstairs. He appears at mealtimes and hovers like ectoplasm, usually in doorways. That’s the one.

Well now, it seems he’s not content with the original 50 shades of grey brought about by lack of sleep, no exercise and poor diet, plus an unhealthy addiction to online gaming on his precious till 2 am and beyond. I think he’s going for vampire.

Let’s backtrack a little. I know I have a tendency to wander.

We’ve had school holidays. Two weeks of them. They’re different here in France from what you might expect. Spring holidays follow a regional rota so that schools are not on break all at the same time. The ski resorts couldn’t cope with all those kids arriving at once, you see. So, half-term in February and the ‘Easter’ break can vary considerably from region to region and from year to year. Everybody takes turns at early or late break. Late breakers got lucky this year and had fresh snow in the Pyrenees last Saturday. I know; I saw it on the way to Spain for himself’s birthday.

So where was Gollum Boy on himself’s birthday you might wonder?

In bed. Online.

Okay, so teenage boys don’t want to celebrate their father’s birthday with him. Understandable. I can go along with that. But, remember also I’m a wicked stepmother and have to guard what I say. When I criticise, it’s always going to sound wicked stepmotherish unless I choose my words very carefully. Remember the pirate lady who wasn’t going to let trouble creep up on her again? The one who was prepared for school holidays and whatever should happen?

femalepirate
ready for anything . . .

Her good intentions lasted a week.

She lost it during the second week.

Have you got a card for your dad’s birthday? she said.

No. Why?

The shop in the village has some, she offered. They don’t cost much.

Afterwards, himself made excuses when no birthday card appeared.

It’s just about being a teenager, himself said.

Actually, biological parent, no it isn’t. (This is where she lost it!) Some teenagers do think about other people, helping out, doing something for someone else. The kids who don’t are the ones who get away with only ever thinking about themselves because they’ve got parents who continually make excuses for them. (Great rattling of cutlasses here.)

The upshot of all this mutiny was withdrawal from theatre of battle by wicked stepmother.

And the result?

A second week spent entirely indoors by Gollum Boy. The weather is warm. The sky is so blue it sometimes looks purple. Down on the beaches, people are dipping their toes. But Gollum Boy says it’s too warm outside for him. Well it would be, she thinks, for anybody wearing thick jogging pants and a hoodie over a tee shirt.

And anyway, the sun hurts his eyes, Gollum Boy says.

I think it makes his skin sparkle too!

What makes a satisfying read?

What is it that makes a book satisfying for you? When you’re choosing your next read, do you look for some kind of guarantee it’s going to hit the spot?

satisfaction guarantee
can any book guarantee reader satisfaction?

Imagine – you’re in the zone – receptive to suggestions – you’re browsing genres – willing to take a little chance – open to new ideas. You spot an interesting cover – you read the blurb. Maybe you read the opening paragraphs, too. You’ve never heard of the author but you’re bookless and looking forward to your next read. But it’s got to be satisfying.

Chances are, what makes that book hit the spot for you won’t be the same as what makes a book satisfying for me.

satisfying read for a cat
do not disturb!

We like different things, don’t we, all of us? We’re attracted by different images and colours which make us choose to investigate book titles further. We might insist that we were open to new ideas and receptive to suggestions, but we were still subconsciously bound by our preferences. Those preferences grew out of our personal experiences with books and reading. You can’t prefer something you’ve never experienced.

Let me give you an example. If you asked me six years ago if I’d read any Cornwell, Reichs, Slaughter, Gerritsen etc. I would have said, I don’t think I’d enjoy that kind of book.
I had never been tempted to try titles in that genre. They simply didn’t appeal. Then a friend came to stay and left books behind. I was bookless and read them. Now I have a collection of aforementioned authors. It turned out I enjoyed the genre after all and I’ve since broadened my reading experience to include action thrillers. Who knew I’d turn out to be Jack Reacher’s #1 fan?

dogreading
a dog’s fave genre?

But then, as I’ve said elsewhere on my website, I love variety. My bookshelves comprise an unusual mix, some might say. Authors now have a better chance of attracting me to their titles because I’ve experienced a wider range of books.

But, I’m still not too easy to please. The writing has to transport me. I have to care what happens next. Characters have to be attractive to me in some way. I must want to see them attempt to reach their goal. Or the plot has to be fascinating. I have to want to turn the page.

But is satisfying enough to aim for when we’re writing? Would I be delighted if, when I eventually have my novels on sale, reviewers vote them a satisfying read?

Wow factorI don’t think I would. I guess I’m aiming for the Wow factor. I think I have to. As a novelist, I’m unpublished. It’s been hard enough to break through into magazine publication and I know that to achieve success with a debut novel, you have to come up with something really special.

My novel Trobairitz won’t please everybody. Neither will Patterns of Our Lives. They’re for different markets. You can’t please everybody. But I’d like to think I could burst the satisfaction meter for some readers.

What constitutes the difference between a satisfying read and the Wow factor for you?

Wednesday Vine Report #5

Vine report number five already. I can’t believe 5 weeks have passed since I began wondering what kind of grape our chosen vine was.

We know now: she’s a Merlot, and our baby is doing just fine. After rain through the week, our vine is showing vigorous growth.

Merlot vine
our Merlot shifting up a gear

There’s growth all along the leader in this midweek photograph. Here’s this morning’s picture.

Merlot in May
after a few days’ rain

Her sisters are doing nicely, too. Soon there’ll be more green than the brown of the earth.

Merlot vineyard
Merlot vineyard showing steady growth

Once these beauties get going, you can almost hear them growing. (I’m a writer, prone to fanciful thinking)

We’ve had a substantial amount of rain this week. The air cooled. There was fresh snow on the Pyrenees at the weekend, I’m told. Friends of friends couldn’t drive where they were supposed to be; they had no snow chains with them. When the wind blows from the southwest, over the peaks of the mountains, it cools everything down on our side. I had to rummage in my clothes storage boxes and drag out a couple of fleeces. We don’t expect cold winds at this time of year. But the walk through the vineyards is as lovely as ever and, even if you can’t actually hear the vines growing, you can smell the fresh green of them.

Across the lane, in the Chardonnay plantation, here’s the latest:

Chardonnay
Chardonnay grapevines growing fast

Don’t they look fantastic? Oh, I’m imagining paella cooked on our outside gas burner in one of those huge circular shallow pans; the sounds of bubbling juices; the smell of mussels and saffron and prawns, maybe a few scallops and some chicken on the bone for extra juiciness AND dewy glasses of chilled Chardonnay, crisp and dry and definitely more-ish. Summer heaven.

I walked a different way back to the house. There are so many lanes criss-crossing the vineyard plantations, you can vary your route every day. You get to see a different view each time you turn a corner. I took this picture of poppies planning to use it as a header. All the pictures at the head of my pages are from my own photographs.

April poppies
April poppies along the vineyard lanes

Last week, I spotted drifts of blue flowers on furry, mauve stalks and couldn’t put a name to them.

Borage flowers
Borage flowers and stalks taste like cucumber

 

 

 

 

 

It’s borage and you can eat it. The flowers and stalks taste like cucumber and the darker leaves can be cooked and used like spinach. You can find out more about edible wild flowers here at the Edible Wild Food website.

Himself was with me this morning. Fancies himself as a bit of a David Bailey from time to time. He took these:

poppies on May 1st
May poppies – a photo by himself

I think the boy done good.

Along the lanes, there’s always something new to see. Almond trees are showing off their new fruits in their furry cases. They are very bitter, though. I don’t know anybody who actually uses them.

almonds in their cases
almonds in their furry cases

The vineyards roll across this Herault hinterland. From above it looks like patchwork with all the rows going in different directions like stripes. Some vineyards have sea views.

picpoul de pinet
Picpoul de Pinet vines love sea breezes

At Pinet, not far from our own village, the vineyards run down to the Mediterranean coast.In this picture, you can make out the oyster beds in the bay. Oysters and white wine: is your mouth watering yet? Wait, there’s more.

Noilly Prat vermouth
a great aperitif

The white wine of Pinet is one of only three varieties used by the manufacturers of Noilly Prat, a world famous vermouth produced at Marseillan also nearby. Marseillan is now the only place producing this fabulous vermouth. No, it’s better than fabulous. It’s the best vermouth you’ll ever taste. There’s a great story behind the making of this famous aperitif, but there’s enough for a whole new post. In the meantime, take a look at their website. It has a cute entry page, but they won’t give away any production secrets.

Back to our own village vineyards. Because of the lie of the land, the vineyard lanes are sometimes below the level of the growing fields. Great camera angles.

elderly vines
old vines still producing

Elsewhere there are new plantations. The baby vines are protected from the ravages of winter winds.

young vines
young vines are protected

Young vines are not allowed to produce fruit for the first year or two. The vine’s job is to get itself established with a strong root system and build up nutrients for grape producing when it’s a grown-up. The wine grower keeps the vineyard free from weeds and pests during this time to give the young vines the best start.

Soon, these young vines will take their place in producing grapes that go into wine known and respected all over the world. Did you know that Languedoc is the biggest wine producing region in the world? Ah, what a place to live, huh? The pleasures of watching it grow, followed by the pleasures of drinking it.

Languedoc vines
vines of Languedoc

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I’d love to hear from you. I’m not an expert on wine, but you don’t have to be an expert to know what you enjoy. That’s my philosophy.

Cheers!

See you soon.

Addicted to success?

Addicted2Success-Logo-2013
discovered on Stumbleupon

While Stumbling, I found this website. Apparently, to be truly successful you must leave behind people who can’t help you achieve success.

“You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” – Jim Rohn

Blimey, I’m the average of myself, then. That’s who I spend most time with. Here on the computer. In my writing room. (following the advice of Virginia Woolf who said ‘a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction’) Well, I’ve got the room.

Celia's writing room
this is where I write – look on the screen- it’s this post!

I’m still waiting for the money. Selling short stories to women’s magazines is very nice, but isn’t going to keep me in Merlot, let alone make me rich. If I had the wherewithal, I’d upgrade my machine and have one that doesn’t keep switching itself off. That’s why the computer desk is pulled away from the wall. I have to keep unplugging the power supply to get my old Mac to fire up. Not ideal. My writing room doubles as guest bedroom. There’s a single bed behind the chair. Again, not ideal, especially when you’re up early in the morning and want to get an hour in before the rest of the house is looking for breakfast. Virginia Woolf had it easy. The only thing we would have had in common was a birthday in January.

I have theories about January girls, but there’s enough for a whole story so I won’t go into that here.

Now, I enjoy StumbleUpon. It can broaden your interests, show you things you never knew existed. We rarely search for websites by name; there would be too many to remember, so StumbleUpon remembers them for you and suggests new things you might like.

I enjoyed reading the post about successful people, but I don’t care for its recommendations. I’m all for curtailing time spent with people who drag you down, though. I call them emotional vampires, those people who suck the living daylights out of you with their whinging and complaining, or their constant carping and criticism. It makes much more sense to spend your time with people who make you feel good about yourself. I spend a lot of time by myself. Writers do. So, when I socialize, I want to be with people with whom I have something in common. It won’t necessarily be writing. I sing with a choir and enjoy spending time with others who love music as much as I do.

But, unlike this article on success suggests, I don’t choose people because they can be useful to me. How manipulative is that? What sort of a selfish bastard treats people like that? A SUCCESSFUL one apparently.

Perhaps this is why himself and I find ourselves well below the salt at certain dining tables. We have ceased to be useful. Hello? Up pops another idea for a short story. Good grief, how can I ever manage to follow through on a train of thought? Excuse me while I jot down some notes. . . .

. . . .  that’s better.

There’s an old saying about how you treat people when you’re on the way up, because you might meet them again on the way back down. Mixing with the right company does not appeal to me.

Mixing with compatible company suits me better. Perhaps it’s an age thing. I’m not hungry for the kind of success that means you give your time only to useful contacts. Bollocks to that, pardon my French. I have achieved an amount of success. The circulation of the magazine that publishes my short stories is over 200,000. That’s a lot of people who’ve read something I wrote sitting at that old machine in a back bedroom. Isn’t that fantastic? If I achieve success with my novels, it won’t be because I’ve chosen to ignore people who don’t fit the right categories.

write from the heart