The courtyard that greeted us this morning
You can always tell when it's snowed overnight. Firstly on opening one's eyes it's the silence that strikes you quickly followed by a soft white light that caresses the ceiling looking particularly beautiful when filtered by France's ubiquitous Persienne shutters. The silence naturally enough caused by a complete lack of traffic, although I could hear the odd crunch of wellington boot on virgin snow from the warmth of my Sunday morning bed. I lingered just long enough to enjoy my freshly made coffee before suddenly realising that the weather might cause a run on bread and baguettes at my favourite bakery, which unfortunatley is situated at the other end of town, a 10 minute walk in benign conditions but today, the prospect of a longish haul down the road in deep snow.
Our local café looking like a Christmas advert
Not a soul in sight, hard to imagine here how packed this gets on market day
Lesley and I made a decision to scrap breakfast and push on straight to the bakery. Hunkered down in thick coats and appropriate headwear we tilted our heads in the direction of downtown Ribérac and gasping through the biting breeze coming directly off the Russian Steppes we marvelled at the scenery. Here in South West France I believe it is uncommon to see snow such as this. I remember the words of our local ironmonger shortly after we had bought our house way back in 2003. His words were, more or less 'You'll love it here, warm spring and summers and it never snows, never in my lifetime'! Well I expect he woke up this morning full of the excitement of a 5 year old and was probably busy building himself a snowman.
L'eglise de Ribérac with its Islamic style domes capped off in snow
The 5 years olds were to be seen. Peering out of windows from behind pulled back curtains in jimjams, staring out in a kind of awe. I guess when you're a five year old from Ribérac you haven't seen a lot of snow. We thought it amazing that the few cars that had ventured out seemed to be driving at a gung ho speed; braking distances didn't come into the equation. This morning was also a wonderful opportunity for all those 4x4 or 'quatre-quatres' to show what they were made of, to justify their vehicles and to show the mere mortals with front wheel drive what they're missing out on. It was rather entertaining to see grown men displaying their prowess as they burned up and down the rue 26 mars with disregard for us poor pedestrians battling along on foot.
Chocolate box stuff - La Collégiale de Notre-Dame de Ribérac
Having safely arrived at M. Bury's boulangerie we realised that we had been correct in our assumptions of a run on bread as the racks were worryingly bare and the huge puddle of water from melted snow on the shop floor told its own story. Still we did manage to bag ourselves one of our favourite breads, a 'pain tradition' before turning for home.
Dressed against the elements
The road leading up to l'école primaire
Once arrived into the safety and warmth of 36 it was off with the wet coats and wellies and onto the business of getting a real fire underway. Whilst I sorted out the fire, Lesley got busy in the kitchen and as the fire began to establish itself and the logs began to crackle in the grate, a 'full English' appeared on the kitchen table with a large pot of steaming coffee. The bread buying expedition had given us a wonderful opportunity to capture a few images of Ribérac that don't come along too often in a lifetime. We hope you enjoy them!
Where the Maire hangs out
This is why the French pollard their trees - to catch the snow!
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