Thursday, December 28, 2023

Dear Valued Customer,

Evening falls on the third day after Christmas. A soft silvery white mist has blurred the landscape all day. Now the day darkens. The bare trunks and limbs of the trees are overlaid over the dark violet blue sky like a fine silhouette cut with a tiny pair of scissors.

Inside, the fire hisses on the library hearth. The tree glitters softly, swathed in lights, hung with bright glass and painted wooden ornaments, surmounted by a leonine sun made by our Henry at the age of 7, many a year ago.

The house is having a moment of quiet. The little tribu of Charlie, Dorothée, Sophie, and James has departed. Vanished are their noisy enthusiasm for Le Père Noël, their voracious appetite for bonbons and presents, their intrigued delight with new toys and Tante Marïa’s new puppy.

“Where’s Mamona?” Charlie had eagerly cried on arrival, looking around excitedly with wide blue eyes. Ramona is a 10-month-old mixture of teckel and fox, dachshund and wire-haired fox terrier. Our daughter and her husband brought her all the way from Argentina, where they now live. The children had played intensely for three days, hardly ever fighting or crying, four little cousins and “la perrita” tumbling together like a litter of puppies.

Meanwhile, Henry had played sections of Liszt’s Liebestraum at the piano for us. It’s a new piece for him.

Monsieur remarked that Liszt frequently broke several grand pianos while performing it.

We reassured ourselves that pianos – even our turn-of-the-century model – are more solid today than when Liszt was giving full vent to his passions in the 1840s.

“And women fainted while they attended his concerts,” he added.

Perhaps women today are tougher than they used to be, our daughters commented.

Now, in unaccustomed peace, we turn to our private occupations…Henry has gone back to practicing his preferred composer, Chopin. Marïa and her new husband have gone out visiting. The older cousins, still with us, stay inside. Liam is immersed in a 15-year-old’s daydream. His ruby lips pout slightly, his eyelids hang low, his long legs are twined over the arm of the chair, his long arms, hands and fingers seem to have become motionless in mid-gesture. He appears to watch the flames, but it is impossible to guess at his thoughts, or even if he has any.

Clara helps me in the kitchen. While daylight was fleeting, she went out to the potager to pick herbs for cooking and leaves of spinach, red-veined arugula, curly kale for salad. The leaves are chewy but full of flavor. We make a simple vinaigrette of olive oil, vinaigre balsamique, a dash of mustard. She uses the rolling pin to bruise last cloves of garlic from this summer’s garland. We roast them with thick slices of bavette for our dinner. And she peels a pile of potatoes for a purée that she learned to make from her mother – and that we all concur is the best we have ever tasted.

Before dinner, we had a last round of present-opening under the tree. Marïa uncorked a bottle of champagne; her husband served the last scraps of foie gras he made himself: his best yet, he told us. It is delicately flavored with sauterne, and just barely salted.

We talked about our year. The year to come. Remembered other Christmases. Laughed at our own jokes, acted out the same old sketches. Worn-out, Ramona curled up on her new bed.

These are precious times, filled with enough warmth to lighten many a dark winter evening.

I wanted to take a few minutes to write and to wish you all the joy of this season. Then, I will put down my pen -- close down the laptop – for the rest of les fêtes de Noël et du Nouvel An.

Bonnes fêtes, chers amis

A few days before Christmas, Marïa, who is a singer, gave a series of small concerts. Included in her program was one of our family favorites, “Minuit Chrétien.” Her younger brother Jules sang this song as a boy soprano in church on a Christmas Eve many years ago -- it is “O Holy Night” in English. On our first Christmas in France, he sang it for us again, in French.

And here is Marïa, combining the original French carol with the English translation.

Amitiés!

*Our Marïa at one of her Christmas concerts.*

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We are taking bookings for 2024 and 2025.
Heather (info@chateaudecourtomer.com and +33 (0) 6 49 12 87 98) will be delighted to help you with your enquiries and dates. And Jane will be happy to preview the property on site. She can also act as your concierge.
English and French spoken.

We look forward to hearing from you!

Bonnes Fêtes!