I blushed. For within minutes of having met lovely Jennifer in person, she had tossed out, “You know what I love in your blog? That you and Remi are always pining after some house or another, imagining what it would be like to move to some place new.” Ooh, busted. She nailed it! The heat rose to my cheeks. We can’t help it. Remi and I are both nomads for different reasons–me from having moved around so much during my childhood, he for having travelled the world for most of his career. We are always open to the next possibility. Or at least willing to entertain it with a daydream or two.
When we explore, we wander, often aimlessly travelling down this road or that, happy to be in each other’s company with our Golden, Ben, looking out the back window. Many a time have we come screeching to a halt to better take in a happy surprise. So it was with the house for sale roadside on the outskirts of Banon.
Remi saw his plan immediately. “The garage could be transformed into a gallery with an atelier above and the rest of the house looks big enough that it could be…” “A B&B?” I interrupted (as I am too often to do). “Exactly.”
We were immediately taken by the traditional layout of the house, with its rooms sprouting off from a central stairway, as well as the deep porch off the side. Can’t you just see how lovely it could be? Oh, I would gleefully tear down those yellow plastic panels and build a tonnelle to be draped in wisteria and roses. Up would come the cement and down would be laid age-worn dalles de pierres in its stead. I would keep the lovely screen door, imagining its satisfying bang each time someone would head back into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine.
The view of the surrounding mountains opens out with welcome arms and an absolutely massive garden slopes down in descending terraces from the porch. My heart goes out to that forgotten land, dotted with a few scraggly accidental trees and waist high weeds. What could it be? What must it have been?
We decided that we needed a closer look and poked around until we found a dirt path that stopped just below the property’s baseline. Apparently our zooming back and forth was worrisome to one of les voisines, whom Remi noticed peaking at us from behind a partially drawn curtain. Didn’t she know we were on a dream hunt? We were well-rewarded with our new perspective as the ruin of an ancient tower or pigeonnier took shape. What could we make of that? A nap house? With a star-gazing platform? And just look how close the house is to the village. We could have unlimited access to gooey goat cheese and spiky saucisson!
From down below, we could also appreciate fully how much larger the house was than what we initially thought, including two entire floors that hadn’t been visible from the road. Definitely enough room for a B&B. I also took a long gander at the filled in arch on the lower left hand corner of the facade. Open that puppy up, put in a pool that runs half-inside the structure, half out with an infinity drop–et voila, B&B de luxe! In winter, the towering pine would whistle woefully while the chimneys billowed fragrant smoke…Maybe there is space enough for a yoga studio?
Yes, we spent a good thirty minutes, at least, entertaining this little fantasy. Not long enough for us to even call the number posted on the door but certainly plenty to restock the wishing well. Sometimes just the wondering is enough.
Sincerely hoping that you all have a wonderful weekend ahead, a calm one with plenty of time to let your imagination go…
…and to get you started hop on board, A “Train of Thought” by Chilly Gonzalez.
And I nearly forgot! What kind of aspiring Frenchy would I be if I didn’t mention that this is the weekend when le Beaujolais Nouveau est arrivé! Ah ha! Not being particularly attached to the stuff (nor the headaches it has inspired in the past), I politely declined when my caviste offered a tasting of this year’s batch. Without missing a beat, he instead poured a Côte du Rhone Primeur, which is the same concept but made with the more full-bodied varietals that we have in our neck of the woods. It turns out that it has not been a great year for the Beaujolais as many of the vignobles were damaged during heavy hail storms. One winery lost 80% of its production. Happily, there is the rather tasty Primeur as well, which just might leave you dancing like the lovely apsaras…
Dear Heather,
(1) I love the previous commentator's remark about having a "giant straw"….something about that image is just wonderfully hilarious.
(2) As you know, Herve and I finally found and bought and moved ourselves into our 220 year-old "forever house" (knock on wood…) this past June. Prior to doing so, though, we spent seven years detouring on country roads to get a closer view of something that LOOKED appealing, and/or tramping through antebellum farmhouses (where we always felt like Goldilocks…..too big or too small or too overly-restored or too decrepit, or too close to a development or too remote from ANY airport, etcetera).
My favorite tale of house-hunting comes from six Christmas's (punctuation?) ago…..when we were driving back to North Carolina, through the mountains from my family's house on the Tennessee side. It was snowing, so(deciding to avoid a wreck on some high pass) we doubled back into Southwest Virginia, travelling on some state-roads that I know of.
Coming around a rural corner (and, we hoped, generally heading east), I saw a huge, log house….sitting on a hill which overlooked a beautiful small valley with a large creek running through it. All I wanted was to take photographs of it and the some of the enormous, old trees….one look, and you KNEW this place (which I'd never seen before, despite having been raised thirty miles south) was 18th century…..which is very old for Southwest viginia.
It was beautiful, and we both fell in love with the place…instantly….and there was a real-estate agent's "For Sale" right in the front yard. To make a long story short-ish?…the car was STUFFED with suitcases and Christmas gifts…..and we couldn't find a pen with which to write down the agent's number, and we couldn't (predictably enough) find an address…not even a road sign. It was horrible….we would never be able to find and buy Our Rural Dream Home, once we were back in Durham.
We settled on each of us memorizing half of the agent's telephone number. Of course, we'd both forgotten the numbers by the time we got home, three hours later. It was terrible. All we had were memories and the 150 or so photographs I'd taken of that mysterious, old house and those achingly beautiful old trees and the cattle sheltering themselves in the blackberry thickets….we'd never find Sleeping Beauty's Log-Castle again.
The next day I mentioned this tragedy to my mailman (with whom I happen to be friends…this happens when you work at home), and he rather bluntly said "Well, long as yo' ass walking 'round with a camera slung 'round yo' neck, why didn't you just take a picture of the sign?????"
It had never occurred to Herve or me (with ten university degrees between us, which you would think meant we were sort-of-maybe kinda smart?) to simply take a digital photograph of the sign.
That would have required some common sense, right?….(to be continued)….
Heather, oh dear you make me daydreaming too!!! Love this house and that view!!If we would ever move to Provence, I should contact you to advice us!!
Happy weekend my dear ! Enjoy the Beaujolais! Maybe one glass…?8! Haha!
xx
Greet
No question that we are on the same wave length Heather. Pining away for the perfect home. I hope your phone call was what you were hoping. It would be so much fun to work your dream magic with this house. If not this one….there will be another. That's the great thing about dreams…there is a steady supply. 🙂
Thanks for your note on my recent post…I think my dream is coming together, I should know for certain in a few weeks. 🙂
Best wishes Heather….keep dreaming!
Jeanne xx
There goes my chance to reserve the pigeonnier for some stargazing time with un epoux…:) I like how your visualized your plan and a little disappointed when you didn't call the number at the door. Oh well…there's a season and a time to every purpose under the heavens.
XX
Amelia
I enjoy your daydreaming too. French stone houses are my favourite. It looks so cosy to live in there. The Primeur looks delicious and too tempting to try for a drink. Bon weekend!
Ooo – sweet house, with more touches of red – what's that about?! Yes, I love that you're a dreamer; I recently decided I don't dream nearly enough – maybe we'll talk about that – WHEN YOU ARE HERE IN FOUR DAYS!!!!!!! : )
What a wonderful dream, never give up life is full of dreams.
Barbara
My husband and I are always visiting new towns (or countries!), wandering around to a constant refrain of "I could live here!" I love your dream B&B, the whistling pine, a yoga studio bien sûr, a nap house… I like the way you dream, kid!
You can sign me up for the B&B too…what a lovely vacation that would be! To dream is free and it feeds the soul with hope, and many dreams DO come true so we should never stop dreaming.
Lovely words and pictures as always.
Have a wonderfully happy weekend.
Sylvia S.
I'd like to apply for the position as chief cook and bottle washer at your new B&B. I like to dream too.