VILLAGE LIFE

     I have been blog-less... buried up to my ears with a revision and then tending to my irascible father in Toronto for a spell.  An eye-opening experience on many levels.  In the Leszczynski house there are three topics of conversation; tomatoes, kittens, and the end of the world.  Enough said. Then Husband and I took advantage of a wonderful opportunity to travel a bit and so, I remained blog-less.  No more. 

  

More Travel

A Little Travel

Husband as Amsterdam
Art Installation

Once Upon a Time... in Metz

     

Arty Husband at Centre Pompidou, Metz 

     We were gone but were not missed.  We barely ever see anyone in our tiny village.  We have met people, but they live in other nearby villages.  We don't encounter neighbours on the street.  Few people walk here... unless they have dogs, which function as a social introduction.  'What a lovely dog... what breed is he?' proving social status leeches into the four-legged world.  Nope, we are not only aliens, but we walk without a dog.  Freaks.  

Husband Tries to Poach Other's
Dogs in a Feeble Bid to Fit In

     Actually,  I exaggerate.  The friends we did make, who all moved away (was it us?), have said that even people who've lived here forty or fifty years are outsiders.  The only real insiders are the families who've farmed the land for centuries.  The rest of us are upstarts, interlopers, or as they say in Somerset, grockles.  Still, in spite of this isolation, the fact we have no shops, and that the pub was shut down for health reasons (more on that in the next blog) we manage to reap all the gossip that's fit to repeat. News migrates through town, and sometimes beyond, with the speed of a brush fire.  It is gleaned in the farm shops, the post-office, and a small local paper.

Rush Hour in the Village

      

     Big news in the village was the arrival of a new peacock.  It's probably the topic of village conversation, not that we are in those conversations, wherever they might occur, probably behind drawn drapes.  Just before he moved, our friend across the street called to say 'There's a peacock on our roof', knowing Penny the Peahen winters with us and occasionally drops in during the summer months.   

     

     Husband skyped me in Toronto with the news.  Upon my return, we heard the bird for ourselves; saw him far off perched on rooftops, screeching at dusk and dawn.  Wonderful!  A mate for Penny!

Look Closely... There's A
Peacock on that Roof

     

     We went over to see the new bird for ourselves.  He's beautiful.  Brilliant blinding sapphire feathers.  We tried to take pictures but it was too dark.  His calls were piercing and fearsome, and no one nearby could sleep through them.  A neighbour peeked out from behind his hedge, saw us admiring the fowl.  'Bloody loud,' he said, 'wish the bloody thing would just go away.'  Husband and I exchanged a look, 'a Pea-hater!' we both thought. 

     

     Husband and I tried to match-make... we're romantics at heart.  Poor lonely Penny didn't have to be lonely any more.  Had the new boy in town arrived looking for true love?  Would he and Penny settle in the neighbourhood and have pea-chicks?  We enticed the potential lovebirds with a buffet of every exotic bird pellet and seed we could find.  We left the gate ajar hoping the two would find the Pink Cottage a suitable and safe place for their tryst.  We stopped just short of strewing the driveway with rose petals.  It was not to be.  Shortly after the peacock's arrival an agitated Penny ran onto the property, looked around frantically, pecked at some insect nibbles, heard the shriek of the newly arrived male, and then bolted like the demons of hell were after her.  Then nothing.  The male's calls rang through dusk and dawn, but Penny was silent.  Husband was distraught.  Penny seemed intent on remaining the virgin queen of the village.  

What Am I...An Escort Service!

     

     Never mind the birds... there was other huge news.  A moving van arrived in town.  Two sets of neighbours became near and dear to us, one relocated to a nearby village, the other pair went to Portugal.  In order to achieve the latter, a moving van was hired to remove their life to the Algarve.  It was quite a substantial moving van, and brought the neighbourhood to a stop.  People stood on the street hands on hips, they peeked over hedges, slowed down in cars, rode by on bikes, trotted by on horseback, necks craned, to look at a moving van.  It was the talk of the town.  We have never seen more of our neighbours out than we did that day on the street surveying the van. Now it is gone.  Everyone has receded behind drawn drapes and closed blinds again... and we miss our moved neighbours.     

     

     News in our village travels so quickly, it can move over land and sea. We were in Belgium when an email arrived with a picture sent by friends staying at the Pink Cottage.  It was a picture of Penny the Peahen at the Pink Cottage.... with TWO PEA-CHICKS!  

Meet the Pea-Chicks

Penny and the Pea-Chicks

     Husband couldn't believe it.  To use a local expression, we were gobsmacked.  Apparently Penny's annual spring time disappearances are born of the fact that she goes off somewhere safe to lay eggs.  Each year, for six years, she has sat on her eggs, and each year no pea-chick has sprung  from any of the ivory orbs.  A sad fact Husband had discovered, but kept from me deeming it too upsetting.  But this year is different. As it turns out love did bloom in the village. 

Strolling Pea-Chick

     

     We found ourselves abroad, wishing we were home to see the chicks.  The pea-chick news ricocheted round the world, via internet, to Guernsey, Belgium and Portugal, and then over to Toronto to my sister and now, after this blog, it will shoot through the US and Canada and the UK... making Penny and her pea-chicks possibly  the most viewed pea-family around.  

     Husband and I are besotted.  We stare at the pea-chicks like we hatched them ourselves.  They all sleep out behind the house, up in a tree.  Penny tucks the two little chicks under her great wings, so only two little pea-heads are visible.  It was all I could do to keep Husband from pitching a tent under the tree and arming himself with a shovel to protect the birds from foxes and badgers.  We are smitten with our new friends in the village.  

The Happy Family