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8th August 2008
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The Quercy DiaryA year in the QuercyWelcome to our month by month walk-through of everyday life in the Lot and Quercy region covering the departments of the Lot, Lot et Garonne and Tarn et Garonne in the south of France.
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High summer in the Quercy and the skies are as blue as the wild cornflowers that line every field. Scarlet and pink geraniums foam from every windowsill, whilst on the limestone cliffs helichrysum and santolina bloom riotously on bone-dry outcrops of rock. Out in the immaculately groomed vineyards grapes are beginning to swell. Dogs lie panting in the shade; cats lie dozing in the sun and lizards scuttle hither and thither with newly minted energy...
The festive season has arrived! And here in sunny southern France the Quercy has been frozen into a Narnian landscape, enchanting and exceptionally beautiful but wickedly cold. A wardrobe full of fur coats would be a definite asset. The markets are winding up for Christmas, the geese are already fat...
Welcome to the late winter treats of the glorious Quercy.
Foremost among winter indulgences in this famously gastronomic region must naturally be the truffle. Now is the time for it...
It’s still a tad chilly here, cold nights and warm afternoons. There are few short-sleeved-shirts, with the strange exception of café waiters who seem to have an internal central heating system! There are fewer still bared shoulders, but there is an almost tangible air of expectancy, because when the warm weather comes to this land, it comes in a rush.
We’ve finally shaken off the last of the winter clouds and spirits are soaring. All along the grassy banks little darns of lemon yellow have suddenly spread to become huge patches of glorious cowslips. The willows are a delicious lime green, the almonds and wild cherries laden with delicate white blossom...
It’s supposed to be the season of mellow fruitfulness, but there’s nothing mellow about September in Southern France, the weather is frequently hotter than August. This year, it seems, will be no exception as August was the chilliest since records began, according to our disgusted neighbours!
The last few days of October were as hot and balmy as August, the markets were thronged with visitors and full of flowers. Great clumps of chrysanthemums in purple, white, crimson and gold jostled against rank upon rank of pierrot-faced violas and armfuls of more exotic blooms, a wonderful sight which brought out a rash of resident artists...
It is the first week of winter and the vast oak forests of the Quercy are scarlet, golden and green, almost too beautiful to bear. In sharp contrast the vines are now completely naked and shivering in the cold winds, they’ve been severely pruned and appear as no more than dark shadows of their sexy summer selves...
What a breathtakingly beautiful Christmas we enjoyed here in the Quercy. It wasn’t strictly white because it didn’t actually snow, but I’m sure if I hadn’t just allowed the secret to slip, you’d never have known. It was five degrees below zero...
As I pick my way carefully down our little lane, avoiding rocky outcrops and sharp stones, I notice a few pale green shoots and swelling buds, hopeful harbingers of spring.
With a breathtaking suddenness, spring has arrived in the lovely Quercy. Willows drip slender green leaves, almonds turn their pale pink faces to the new sunlight and the hedgerows are lit with blackthorn. In the valleys all the rivers and streams are swollen with rain and melt-water, the Lot is in flood, lakes and ponds are brimming and we’re braced and ready for the droughts of summer...
April is sailing by and here in the beautiful Quercy glorious summer is already on the horizon; the weather is delightfully warm, our summer migrants have arrived – both birds and humans – and the stage is set for six months of outdoor living...
Welcome to lovely May in southern France, it must be the prettiest time of year. Café tables spread optimistically across cobbled pavements; oleanders, palms and potted olive trees screen clients from the traffic. They sit there with their ice-cold beer or delicately tinted kirs, pale arms tentatively exposed...
Our village markets have now spread to their exuberant summer size, a mass of miscellaneous stalls winding their way round ancient churches and through cobbled alleyways. In one of my local haunts the lavender lady has reappeared after her winter hibernation. She sells dried bunches, tiny bottles of essence, fabulous soaps and handmade sachets. Her stall just emanates the fragrant south...
Lazy high summer is upon us and here in the lovely Quercy that means the season. Not only the tourist season but also the glorious season of the fêtes. Every turreted village, sprawling town and elegant city in France has at least one - often more – but if there’s only one it’ll be in July or August...
Welcome to the steaming Quercy in high summer. And steaming it certainly has been, the weather still can’t make up its mind and switches from scorching sunshine to refreshing showers with little warning. Good for the vines, say the old-timers, good for the peaches and plums too, not so good for the cereal crops...
It is early September and all the children are back at school. The fête tables have been packed away for another year and according to the calendar summer is over - but not here. Fortunately for those of us who have the luck to live and work in this enchanting little corner of France September is usually hot...
Mellow October is upon us. Mornings are characterised by swirling valley mists that mask little villages and swallow the vineyards. From my balcony, high above the floor of the glorious river Lot, I look down on meringue confections as elaborate as any you would see in the patisserie...
Winter is knocking on the door in Southern France. Here in the Quercy, mornings are sharp and frosty, afternoons blue and brilliant and temperatures have dropped like a stone. The markets are now less than half their summer size...
Christmas spirit has invaded the Quercy. Temperatures have plummeted, leaving the landscape shivering under a veil of frosty white. Geese are once more seen at the gates of scattered farmhouses and every shop from the Dordogne to the Garonne is liberally stocked with foie gras, oysters and Champagne...
Living in the heartland of French gastronomy can be an exceptionally rewarding business. No more so than on a cold winter’s day when you blow into a warm, bustling café a few minutes before twelve-thirty, chilly, hungry and teased by the tantalising aromas wafting from the kitchens. It’s one of the great pleasures of life in France....
Spring has come early to the Quercy. An exceptionally mild winter followed by a week of brilliant sunshine, clear skies as blue as the virgin’s robe and warm southern breezes, have transformed both the landscape and the markets. The almond trees have suddenly exploded into riotous blossom and all my lemon trees are following suit, stiff, waxy white petals unfurling to release a delicious fragrance that pervades the whole terrace....
It is going to be an early Easter, and in the Quercy a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of food – the other matter being on his mind all year round. 
The sweet smell of a thousand fragrant Gariguette strawberries lured me round Cahors market last Wednesday. The day was warm, the sky a cloudless blue and the stalwart stallholders were in carnival mood. Asparagus assailed me as I entered the fray at the southern end....
Welcome to lovely May in the Quercy, perhaps the most beautiful month of the year. It’s the month of flowers – and indeed fabulous flower festivals are being held in tiny stone villages all over the country. In my hillside garden the oleanders are in bud, the olives are putting out their new silvery leaves and chilly lizards are sunning themselves on numerous crumbling walls.....
A month in which the residents of the Quercy prepare for the long, hot summer season. All along the boulevard in Cahors the little cafes and boulangeries that fringe this wonderful street have laid tables and chairs on the wide pavements. The established restaurants and bistros billow out in all directions screened from the road by strategically placed oleanders and potted olive trees...