Southwest France Walks / Return to Linars

Hiking during the summer is a new endeavour for us. Since it gets so hot in southwest France, we had decided to limit our walking to the spring and autumn. Until now, that is. The Calm One suggested that since we had a collection of nearby short walks previously trod and therefore familiar, it would be a cinch to do one of them in the evening when it's cooler. So at around 8 p.m., we tootled off in our electric Zoe to the rural village of Linars where vineyards and cornfields abound. It's just a ten minute drive southwest from our small city of Angoulême.

Some posts holding the wires supporting vines were tagged with strips of white cloth. A non-verbal communication among cultivators?

Another marking system may be in the form of these blue plastic tubes.

Gnarled, old, and still vigorous. Plants are fabulous!

Though our department is known for its cognac which is made mostly from the ugni blanc variety along with several others, since the 1970s, its wines, red, white, and rose, are receiving increasing attention. There are lots more grape varieties now being cultivated. It's common even when wandering not that far from the city to spot vines discreetly tucked away in a bend of a path, flanking a forest, or squatting between hills.

The nearby countryside is dotted with cornfields.

Obviously wildflowers in the above and below photos are some kind of wild daisies. Lovely tiny blooms borne in clusters atop ferny foliage didn't fail to lifts our spirits.

Yellow and pink bicolour sweetpeas were stunning.

Striated purple geraniums also graced our hike.

Towards the end of our walk, twilight was quickly deepening, but the setting sun was still able to stripe a field with gold.

À la prochaine!

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Previous Linars hike

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Undiscovered French Wines (that is, Charente wine)

Southwest France Walks: Return to l'Oisellerie

Located just south of Angoulême, the grounds of an agricultural high school with its vineyards, fields of corn, ancient former falconry where The Calm One has presented interactive science displays, and shop selling products grown/made on the premises is becoming a favourite place of ours to visit. Also our tootling around in Zoe The Electric Car usually brings cries of solidarity from the younger generation which in turn brings a smile to our faces. This little jaunt marks our resuming nature walks since we stopped this past autumn. Yay, spring is around the corner! Late winter is a great time to spy mistletoe way up in the bare trees. How fitting is the Navajo name for them: basket on high.

Death by Mistletoe? Mistletoe species grow on a wide range of host trees, some of which experience side effects including reduced growth, stunting, and loss of infested outer branches. A heavy infestation may also kill the host plant. (Wikipedia) Their berries are eaten by birds and their sticky seeds dispersed via avian beaks. They also do explosive seed dispersal on their own accord. Mistletoe species are not fully parasitic, hence they are referred to as hemiparasites since they do have leaves for photosynthesis. A particular tree (see below photo) caught my attention because at first it appeared to be an evergreen tree pruned a la nuage (in the style of clouds). It turned out to be a dead tree probably killed by a mammoth mistletoe invasion. Though the commercial wood industry may not be so fond of mistletoe,  a symbiotic relationship exists between it and various species of insects, mammals, and birds:  Like people, the butterflies of these species use mistletoe for courtship rituals. After courting and mating in the mistletoe high in the canopy, the adults leave their eggs behind in the mistletoe. The adults of all three species drink nectar from the mistletoe flowers.

Seen in the above photo are lots of high voltage wires. On one of the concrete pylons was a plaque decrying any communion with said wires, regardless where they may be, including on the ground, or you will be zapped. No idea what the emphatic No. 10 means, but can't help thinking that some British denizens of a certain London street address could relate to potential danger hovering about them.

Deciduous trees let in sunlight, enough for this solitary dandelion with its young, edible leaves to flourish.

A small part of the fencing resembled to me—a former student who studied nursing way back in the previous century in a sprawling public New York City medical centre—a dismantled hospital bed, adding an unexpected aesthetic touch.

Some trees are showing signs of waking up from their wintry sleep, the peach tree with tiny buds flushed with pink in our garden, and this conical lovely, suffused with gold.

Besides grapes, corn is also grown which feeds the school's milk cows. The seeds are coated with red pepper so as to deter birds from gobbling them up before they can sprout. Chez nous, in our potager, we resort to covering individual beds with horticultural fleece to protect a newly sown crop from birds. Since the corn will be planted late April/beginning of May, what is this nicely green field?

It is just tufts of grass taking advantage of the marks left by the combine harvester. The dry stalks from last season can be seen.

On our way back, we passed several narrow lanes off our trail's right. I have to wonder if they allow access to thickets so materials can be collected to make the woven wood fencings seen nearby.

As we approached where Zoe the Electric Car was parked, we caught a glimpse of the turreted falconry and low farming buildings.

À la prochaine!

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L'Oisellerie

Southwest France Walks: Mouthiers Part 2

During a past walk done near Mouthiers, we noted a small cave in the forest flanking our trail. Time restraints prevented exploring it. We, with feet outfitted in new hiking shoes, returned to take on the muddy challenge as there had been several days of rain.

The Calm One's trusty, hand-whittled walking stick got us up the slippery incline.

The interior was the size of a cozy studio, a studio equipped with vaulted ceiling and view.

The stony shelter had tiny openings that let in shafts of light.

As this graffiti seem birdlike and contained colours similar to prehistoric cave paintings, I would like to think that the artist wanted to make a visual connection to what went before.

We scrambled back down onto the trail. The ambiance was somewhat gloomy as everything was muddied. A golden leaf appeared in front of my feet bringing a smile to my face. Then I noticed leaves fluttering down all over. A rustling sound became background music.

Here's the fabled walking stick, smooth and slick. Though this little, white-stemmed, brown-capped mushroom sprouted right on the path, it somehow managed to evade being stomped into oblivion.

I enjoy noting watering holes for wildlife. This choice one is a rotted tree trunk filled with rain water.

We took a wrong turn and wound up in less-trampled terrain. We got a bit scratched and whacked with low-lying branches. But we persisted and got back on the proper path. Before doing so, I was able to get this shot of two different berries, one black, the other red, because this entwined display smacked me in the face.

I find signs of decay in nature thrilling. This fallen tree's moss-covered bark is peeling off in great circular pieces. This cycle of death and renewal has been going on way before our species evolved.

À la prochaine!

Southwest France Walks: La Couronne Part 2

The Calm One and I returned to the area we visited in last week's post, but this time we hiked on the other side of the forest. A pair of trees with bowed multi-trunks captured my attention. A little research did not bring an identification, but I found out such trees are now in great demand in urban settings as they tend to bear much more leaves than a single-trunk tree does, therefore, increasing environmental benefits.  Also they provide an open view which aspect was what appealed with these two forest lovelies.

The second tree is right behind the first (one of its curved trunks can be seen in the middle right of the above photo)

As a child, though clouds and the sea fascinated me, it was the study of rocks that spellbound me because geology spells out deep time. I was gifted with a small collection which contained such beauties as pyrite and rose quartz. In my quest to add to it, I found out that if pouring 7 Up on a specimen resulted in a pronounced fizzy reaction then it was a positive identification for limestone.  However, all those stones I scrounged from city parks never got a chance to be tested, because I would drink the testing solution while wondering what could be revealed if only I didn't love lemon-flavoured pop so much.

After a brief stay in the forest, the path led us out in the open. The broad hillside gave us a panoramic view of the sky. First up was a flotilla of very determined puffs, perhaps set in motion by a pipe-smoking giant?

Two fluffy families, one nuclear, the other extended, sharing the blue.

Here's a great big powder puff beautifying a scraggly tree.

Fog-covered islands closely spaced in an ocean.

'Snowy mountains' positioned under a blue sky with a couple of wisps.

Red jelly bean tree?

Giant broccoli!

A nice note to end our hike is seeing that recent rain filled up a wide path's ruts and potholes. Thirsty wildlife say thank you, mother nature.

À la prochaine!

Southwest France Walks: La Couronne Part 1

La Couronne, a town southwest of Angoulême, is just a five-minute drive away. It was a partly sunny, somewhat windy day, but glorious all the same. Soon after our starting out, The Calm One used his hand-whittled walking stick to coax this satiny, aubergine-coloured beauty out of the shady grass onto the sunlit stony path so I could get a better shot. But I had to be quicker than my skills allowed as it scuttled with rapidity and sagacity, right back into that protective grass so the clarity of the image was lessened. But still, what a looker!

The trail wound its way around hillsides, and we were spellbound within a blue, green, burgundy, and gold world.

As we meandered, I could see a golden-glazed-with-peach-tones patch down off in the near distance. It was a harvested field tucked cosily along a longitudinal stretch between our hilly walkway and the pastel palette of the forest.

As that field came closer, and while I was wondering what was harvested, I was able to get another shot of that lime-green, conical, deciduous tree which made an appearance in the second photo of this account. The sun was no longer directly behind me, but more at an oblique angle, so the light is diffused, reminiscent of an Impressionist painting.

It was a delight finally to be close to the mysteriously enticing field. The reddish stalks made me think of beets, chard, and rhubarb. The dried remnants of flowers looked like broccoli rabe. After ruling out all of those, I kept focused on the red. Then it hit me. Buckwheat is related to rhubarb. Later on, a Google image confirmed my hunch. It's used not only as a food crop, but also a cover one, to return fertility to the soil. In addition, it is a great weed suppressor and there were hardly any weeds between the rows.

I love narrow trails not just because they tame my impulsive streak, but mostly because the Garden of Eden is within touch and just at the right distance from my prime macro lens.

This is not a dusty miller plant, but a macrolichen of the fruticose genre. It is also an epiphyte meaning that it receives nourishment from the air, not the soil. Lichens are fascinating in their complexity, being a mutualistic union between fungus and algae/cyanobacteria. Not only is this specimen not harmful to the tree, it affords protection from wind damage and moisture loss. The colour belies a dry period: In the absence of special pigments, lichens are usually bright green to olive gray when wet, gray or greyish-green to brown when dry. This is because moisture causes the surface skin (cortex) to become more transparent, exposing the green photobiont layer. (Wikipedia)

I decided this was not a speck of glassy trash but instead one of the five-hundred emeralds belonging to the necklace of Girion. I left it there so it can be re-united with the other four-hundred and ninety-nine jewels.

Thoughts changed to a warm lunch and to Zoe the Electric Car which would bring us to that comforting repast as the path widened to a grassy plain topping a windswept hill. 

My camera was secured back into its carrying case, but The Calm One saw this giant, saffron feather duster getting quite a workout by a windy gust so out came the photo equipment.

À la prochaine!