Chateau life comes to an end.

Saying goodbye to Ouzilly.

June 28th, 2024

“What could I do?”, said the lady sitting on the wicker chair across from me. “My husband died suddenly. I went from “couture to agriculture” overnight.

My mother and I were sitting under the linden tree with Madame Ducellier, looking out over the field which had just been cut. A few hay bales sat in the sun. A pound cake had been made for the occasion, and the special tea service laid out.

Hay bales on the lawn.

My parents bought Ouzilly from Madame Ducellier nearly 30 years ago. She was widowed in her thirties and left with six children, one of whom was severely handicapped and died young. Also, she inherited the huge house and acres of farmland.

“My poor husband’s family didn’t like me being so involved”, she went on. “They thought it wasn’t my place to run the farm since I was a woman. But I did it anyway. One of the fieldhands refused to take orders from me. Well, I got up on that tractor myself. Qu’est ce que vous voulez?”.  What do you want?

Madame is a pretty woman, now in her early eighties. She wore a light blue denim dress, earrings made of blue glass, and white sandals. On her wrist she wore a large watch with a leather bracelet and big gold face. On her finger glittered a single ring – probably her engagement ring. It was square shaped, with many diamonds, big and small. It was hard to imagine her operating a tractor.

From Gualfín, Adrien sent a report of the activity there, and a photo of the sunrise. It was 7.30am. Here in France, I wake at 6am when the sun streams through my bedroom windows.

The sunrise at Gualfín.

On Wednesday, we went early to market in the town of Montmorillon…I purchased croissants at the boulangerie – the bakery – which we ate outside with a café au lait - coffee with milk.

The market in Montmorillon.

We also attended the funeral of the old man who died. It was held at the church of Saint Maurice in Lathus, the village nearest to our house. The man’s children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren, were in attendance. His widow walked along behind the coffin, supported by two of her grandsons.

Dad had been in the choir with the old fellow at church. He remembered all the parts, and so did I. I loved singing the old hymns again: Marche avec nous, Marie - walk with us, Mary - and Un monde meilleur - a better world.

This morning, I departed with my mother for Paris to spend my last couple of days. From the Paris of the North, I’ll be traveling to the Paris of the South - Buenos Aires - to be reunited with my husband.

I’ll write from there!

Abrazos,

Mariah

P.S. Listen to two of my favourite hymns from the French church…Marche avec nous, Marie here, and Un monde meilleur here. Enjoy!