| Friday, May 1st, 2020

The cattle left their winter quarters this week for the green pastures of spring.

Dear Friend,

It’s been a rainy week at Chateau de Courtomer, I remarked with a sigh.
Henry, perusing a leather-bound book from the library shelves, responded:

“Rosée de may, grésil de mars et pluie d’avril valent mieux que le chariot David, »
“Which means, Maman chérie”
“Dew in May, drizzle in March and rain in April
Are worth more than David’s chariot.”
“Not to be pedantic,” he went on, “but what was true for the Calendrier des bons laboureurs in 1618 is true today. Remember that King David made the chariot out of gold! We need the rain.”

Henry is at home, studying mathematics on-line with MIT, playing Chopin on the old Pleyel, and observing life around the Chateau with a fresh perspective. The fields were inundated during the winter, meaning we’ve had to sow anew several of the crops. And until now, this spring has been unduly dry. A farmer’s lot is not a simple one.

Earlier this week, Jean-Yves brought the cattle out of the stabulation after their long winter under cover. The cows and little calves ignored the overcast skies. They lowered their heads and set to the green grass of spring with gusto.

Meanwhile, the kittens chez Madame Francine are playful now, to the joy of the little girls. The girls hesitated between Minouche, Marquise or Fleur, and finally settled on the latter. Fleur will learn about city mice only too soon – but we hope she and her new family will return to the Farmhouse before too long.

As promised last week, we return to the tale of restoring the Farmhouse at Chateau de Courtomer…an especially appropriate subject since today, May 1, is the Fête de Travail (the “festival of work”) in France.

Our challenge, as you may recall, was to preserve and enhance the authentic historic details of the Maison de la Ferme. But to make it comfortable and chic!

Monsieur Xavier, the Chateau’s guardian and chief handyman, rose to meet this challenge with almost irrational exuberance. The project became a passion. He threw himself into the mastery of traditional methods. He re-insulated the ceilings with beaten earth, fixed beams to rafters with wooden pegs, plastered walls with lime, and laid hand-cut clay floor tiles in a bed of chaux.

*One of the comfortable bedrooms at the Farmhouse.*

There were many accomplices in this project: my husband for one, our son Henry, our gardener Michel, Alexandre the mason, Arnaud the carpenter, Didier the former baker. But closest to his heart and way of doing things was Monsieur Louboutin.

Monsieur Louboutin came to us after Alexandre and Arnaud, both temporary laborers, had moved along. He was a failed farmer, a man whose herd had been destroyed during an episode of hoof-and-mouth disease in Europe, and who had never been able to recover from the loss. He had no wife or children. He kept his sorrows to himself, and having been a farmer on his own account, he knew how to work hard.

Though he was bent and broken, he was like a quiet, sturdy old watch – he kept on ticking. These qualities endeared him to Monsieur Xavier, born and bred in the hard-working Pas de Calais of France. Madame Francine took a liking to him, too, cheering him up with winks and broad jokes, adages and sly asides. He became a familiar of their household, taking his coffee at their table in the morning before starting to work, and sharing un coup de blanc and conversation at the end of the day.

Xavier and Monsieur Louboutin worked on the Farmhouse together in pleasant harmony for almost a year, until the day that Monsieur Louboutin felt faint. Xavier didn’t like the look of him. On the way to the hospital in L’Aigle, he noticed a doctor’s office in a village along the way, and decided to stop. There, Monsieur Louboutin had the heart attack that killed him, although he lingered for almost two weeks in the intensive care ward of Caen.

It was a gloomy interlude; the unexpected loss of a welcome friend and companion and the unwelcome recognition, at un certain âge, that no man knoweth the time nor the hour. But, there was still the Farmhouse. We hired two more temporary laborers, then one of them – a former baker -- full-time, and Xavier continued to push ahead.

In the first phase of renovation, we had tackled the major structural issues. The huge beam that supported the étage or upper story was cracked in half. It pointed downwards perilously, as did the floor above. Xavier came up with a brilliant and daring proposition – to jack up the main beam until it was level. The risk was that the outer walls would be pushed out before that happened, and that the roof, which rested on the walls, would then cave in.

We’ll return to this tale in following letters, Next week, I also look forward to telling you more about spring here at the Chateau. Birds and other wildlife flourish in our park and fields, and even the wild hare in the orchard is starting to be easy in our presence.

A bientôt par écrit avec les nouvelles du Château de Courtomer,

… cattle on the grass…kittens!...how we renovated the Farmhouse…