A Burgundy diary – 8 May 2024 (from Provence)

A week below Mont Ventoux

A week in Provence, of walking and wildflowers. I had thought to do a note on late April, early May wildflowers in Burgundy. Instead, a week here in Provence, more particularly amongst the limestone of the Mont Ventoux region between the mountain – all 1,910 metres of it – and Carpentras to the south, has intervened. By the way, Mont Ventoux is over 6,200 feet and just over twice as high as anywhere in England (964 m is the height of Sca Fell)

Walking on the limestone round here, with the bands of ochre (ocre) around Bedouin, I have remembered is how different in may respects are the wildflowers in provence. Lots of broom (genet in French, hence English Plantagenet kings with their roots more firmly in Aquitaine than in England), poppy, and varieties of mint;

but also forms of flowers and plants which are more rarely found in Europe and UK, or at all. For example, yes cistus and thyme are found in England, but how often are they found growing wild up the hill-sides and in such profusion as here. And cistus here are very varied: such as small yellow cistus (‘rock rose’ or ‘potentilla’ in UK, often found in carboniferous limestone hills such as the Mendips or domesticated in gardens); white cistus with orange centre and occasional class pink cistus. All grow wild.

Herbs here are everywhere – curry plant, sariette, wild thyme; then blue berries (in flower now), juniper berries and a sort of stunted holy with a tiny clutch of berries.

My favourite is blue-eyed grass (in the intro to this post), and a cousin – I suspect – which grows on a different stem with a couple of leaves where the blue-eyed grass has only whispy single stem from which the blue flower grows. I assume that both are very much flowers of this region, of south of here, and only a little north; and almost always on carboniferous of limestone…

And this blue flowered plant has five larger petals, whilst the blue-eyed grass has six smaller petals…

David Burrows

8 May 2024

A Burgundy diary – 17 March 2024

A cascade, a ford, and the ghost of a former mine

My Part 2 of the Creusefond stream takes the water down a steep scarp off what I think of as the Auxy plateau. The forest by us climbs to a wide flat area which is the plateau: part forest, part farmland dotted with villages (five or six communes, at least, with their varied mairies), hamlets and farms. It stretches down Celtic paths to Marmagne (you love it or you hate it) and, to the east to Couches and wine-growing and the Côte d’Or. I call it the Auxy plateau. The nearest of the villages on the plateau for us is Auxy with its substantial mairie, its Tilleul Henry IV and – my favourite restaurant around here – Le Restaurant l’alcien (which means a restaurant pertaining – I can’t think how else to say it – to Auxy: and yes the adjective’s first letter is lower case). Auxy, the restaurant and all that is for another day.

The Creusefond stream crosses a forest path two kilometres from Auxy and where I left it in Part 1 of this short series. Immediately across the path it descends the northern scarp slope of the plateau, through around 100 metres (nearly 350 feet) and over a distance of 300 metres to a valley below. I shall name this the Creusefond cascade. The photo is the best I could do on the grey day I went there.

I wlke up the short path to the scarp, where the stream tumbled down the scarp. As I walked I could hear the Creusefond stream as it coursed on nearby me.

After its cascade the stream falls quickly through the forest, across a field below Collonges les Chataigniers. It joins the path from our forest area. It flows deep – after all the recent rain – across the path and ford below the farm- and other few houses in Collonges.

The photo shows the ford (gué) along the path. The bridge we found last year is still there; but when I had crossed the bridge a week ago I could not be sure that I would not soak my feet by paddling along the further end of the gué. That turbulent stream was a path last year; and no more than a little damp.

I turned back that day. I returned next day by bicycle and on foot to find the Creusefond cascade.

According to my IGN map somewhere around the path I took up the valley to the cascade is the Ancienne Mine de Pauvray’ (the former mine of Pauvray). On the West side of the valley is Pauvray hill. I have not seen any obvious evidence of a mine in the valley, yet; though there are lines of large boulders near the bottom of the cascade. Is this some sort of evidence of a former mine?

David Burrows

17 March 2024

A Burgundy diary – 6 March 2024

From source to watercourse to hesitant stream

I know where the Amazon rises, Quito (Ecuador); where the Danube rises, Ulm (in the Black Forest); and I know where the Seine and the Thames rise. Now, if anyone is curious, I know more or less where the Creusefond rises.

The Creusefond? We live in a village – well, more a large hamlet – called Creusefond. Through the village, from its source two or three kilometres away, runs the stream of the same name. I know the stream further down – I wrote about a ford over it last March. I aim to revisit that ford as I trace the course of the stream over the next two or three weeks.

A couple of days ago I set out to get as near as I could to the source of the Creusefond. I suspected that a muddy patch on a path I take occasionally to Auxy was close to the source. After the heavy rain of the last few days, I thought I had a good chance of being sure of the source. And so it was. The picture above shows as close as I could get to the source. The puddle at the top of the picture represents what is, for most of the year, the muddy patch on my Auxy path.

From there a watercourse seems to have been cut for the stream. It runs in a straight line through the woods, with one side banked up. It cuts – or has had cut for it – a passage for around 800 metres through the forest, till it finally breaks loose and begins it hesitant flow towards its parent stream in the valley below.

Here is the point where the stream finally gains freedom from its cut watercourse. All being well I shall follow it over the next few weeks.

A Burgundy diary – 3 March 2024

Early spring flowers and birds

Early spring: cold and wet; but is it wet enough; and is it cold enough? We had a little snow last winter; and each of the last two or three years a couple of short freezing periods. We’ve had a little frost this year, but I am sure the real cold we’ve had in previous winters has not come this year. Snow here in mid-January 2024 had gone in a couple of days. But today, and much of this winter, it has rained. Rivers, almost empty in the summer, are now full. Questions must be: how much rain will fall over the summer; and will it be enough?

In England, says the news, 2024 has seen the warmest February on record. Camelia was prolific in Cornwell a couple of weeks ago. Prunus was in flower and there was blackthorn in the hedges. Both were early, I am sure.

The photo of our daffodils here is from 2 March 2024. Is that early for emerging daffodils? I suspect so. Snowdrops are as prolific as ever, though blackthorn and celandine are yet to flower. Let us see if hawthorn meets it normal May-flower deadline?

Small birds are crowding around the seed we’ve put out, some in a small box, some scattered on the ground. Today there are blue tits (mésanges bleue), coal tits (mésanges charbonnière), and one marsh tit (mésanges nonnette: my bird book says they have nothing obvious to do with marshes), chaffinches (pinsons des arbres),goldfinch (chardonneret), a robin (rouge gorge:yes, one as you’d expect), sparrows (moineaux), siskin (tarins des aulnes); and a spotted wood-pecker (pic épeiche). The picture shows three siskin and some goldfinch. I don’t think I’ve seen siskin before this year.

It is impossible to count them all. They fly around and dive to the seed. They are always on the move. They perch momently on the wisteria, rose and cherry-tree hedge growing outside the kitchen, and then move on. They scatter if we go outside or move by the kitchen window; but only disperse for a second or two. If you stay still they pretty much ignore you.

A Burgundy diary – 18 November 2023

A time of mushrooms

Autumn is the time of year for mushrooms in France. In the woodlands and fields around here there are small patches where mushrooms grow. Those who know about mushrooms, know; or they know someone who knows. For mushrooms here are not a question of the mostly single type (rosé des prés) mushrooms you get in English shops. The variety here is much wider even in the shops. All that said, I am talking now about mushrooms you can find wild growing in the forests and the fields.

The question which is most important is: what can you eat, what is possible to eat, and what – at any cost – must you not eat. Lucie was telling me of a mushroom which, if eaten, lurks in your system and shows itself about three weeks later (amanita phalloïde). By that time what is dangerous about it has passed into your system and it may not be long before you die, unless treated.

Lucie’s father an sister a a valuable source for her to check what she has found out about particular mushroom, and check the extent to which they may – or may not – be edible. Each of the mushrooms below are – I am assured – edible. Each were growing wild within 300 or 400 metres of our house and all will be cooked this evening. They are coulemelle lepiote elevée (that ring moves up and down the stem of the mushroom); agaricus macrosporus (which is the same family as the shop bought mushrooms in England); and coprain chevelu.

A Burgundy diary – 16 October 2023

Autun walls: Roman and medieval

For a long time now I have been concerned to find out what I can about the Roman walls around Autun, many of which are still there in some form. I want to compare these with the medieval walls. As far as I could see, the medieval walls were often inside – sometimes quite appreciably – the Roman walls. I assume the medieval population was much smaller than the Roman.

My research such as it is, is based on observation of the remaining evidence of the walls on the ground. I can only give basic photographic evidence here. This, for example, is what I take to be a medieval tower which would have been part of the medieval ramparts.

And this I take to be a medieval tower superimposed on the original Roman walls; or did the Romans build towers in this style also. Certainly the wall here is Roman.

In a book on the history of Autun (Autun by Denis Grivot, Lescuyer-Lyon (undated)) I now have a more helpful guide to the two sets of walls. At the end of this post is a photograph of the map in M Grivot’s book. Whether this photo adds much, I do not know. The version I have is I think to scale. The map is not dated; but it must be from the latter half of the nineteenth century. For example, I can see the railway station and the railway line (across the top left hand of the map: north east). The Roman wall has small blobs along it. The medieval wall is more clearly drawn.

The Roman wall can be traced on the west side of the town, skirting the amphitheatre and what looks to have been a second circular amphitheatre. It then tracks to the north and passes the St André gate. It kicks back by the Arroux river to the north of the town, then leaves the Arroux and runs back along the former Roman town to the cathedral area, which is the original medieval town. It hooks back sharply around the cathedral area (St Pancrace) to return to the amphitheatre.

The medieval town surrounded the cathedral and spread down the hill northwards. Above can be seen the Roman wall with the cathedral just emerging above it and as the sun is coming up.

The medieval wall encloses the town as a lozenge shape. This is relatively clear on the map.

The line of the Roman road from the cathedral area down the hill and through the St André gate (pictured above) can be seen crossing the map from southwest to northeast and then on across the countryside. It passes near where we live – Lucie takes part of it on her way to work in Autun – and then it goes on to Dijon.

A Vauban style quadrangular fortification can be seen in the medieval-modern wall as it turns north. That fortification is still there.

David Burrows

18 October 2023

A Burgundy diary – 2 October 2023

Could it be a small Gallic fort?

Here is another trackway, but this one may be Gaulish in origin. It runs through a small copse, which straddles a small relatively narrow mound at the edge of the forest near to us. On the western side of the mound and beyond the trees the land stretches down through farmland, with a couple of ridges contouring the field for two or three hundred metres along the gentle hillside. On the other side of the narrow mound is a natural steep slope running down into a field on the eastern side of the copse. (If I knew how to do it, I would put an arrow into the picture to the right of the farmhouse to show where is chez nous.)

When I lived in Bristol, we used to go to a hill fort on the Cotswold Edge in Gloucestershire above Little Sodbury (alongside the A46). It was a square fort on the edge of a field. Three sides were fortified with two or three lines of ramparts or embankment. The fourth side was along the Edge. It was sufficiently steep for the defenders to consider that an attacker would find daunting the climb in front of them up the Cotswold Edge (ie its scarp slope). So that fourth side was not fortified. The edge doubled as a rampart on that side of the fort. Could the slope on the eastern side of the copse be in lieu of a defensive scarp, like in the Cotswolds?

At one end of this small mound are some basic clay fragments which may be the remains of Gallo-Roman tiles. At the other (photographed below) – only some three hundred metres away along the short ridge – is what may be evidence of a Gaulish entrance to the very small fort. And yes, could those ridges on the western side of the small fort be modest ramparts? Maybe I am guessing absurdly. It needs someone who knows more than me about small iron-age forts to say….

David Burrows

2 October 2023

A Burgundy diary – 1 October 2023

Houille on the pathway from Autun to Besançon

I have mentioned our Roman pathway before – chemin romain, known to us as Lucie’s Lane – which runs from Autun, on to near our house, via Épinac and eventually (says Burgundy historian M Niaux) it goes on to Besançon in Doubs about 140 kilometres away. Look at a map of the area, and you can see a near straight line, from Autun, to Dole and on to Besançon.

By the track near us is what I take to be a small dew pond in the trees for mules or others to drink from.

I’ve walked the path to a local hamlet Veuverotte, or down through the forest and back through Veuverotte and the lane to home often enough. From the first time I walked the path I noticed it had a coal-like substance along much of the way. I did not give it a lot of thought. I assumed that the track was naturally made up of the substance. Later I found out more about local mining, and – so far as I thought about it at all – I assumed the covering was to do with what was being mined. The mining is of houille, which can be translated as bituminous coal, or black coal. It is a type of coal.

It was only a few days ago that I suddenly thought: there is no houille in the fields either side of the path. The mines – now no longer functioning – are mostly in Épinac or in the forest above where we live. And I now wonder: did the Romans crudely pave the pathway with houille to create their track? Most pathways of this sort are paved with stones, or whatever else was handy. If black coal was handy, why not use that?

And if they did use houille that would be ironic, for a component of houille is bitumen. Bitumen makes tar and – 1800 years or so after that track was first trodden (and perhaps paved with a form of bitumen) – the same substance was used by James Loudon Macadam in combination with compacted stone. If they really used houille to pave their roads, how close the Romans came to inventing tarmac (Tar Macadam) 1800 years before its later Scottish inventor.

David Burrows

1 October 2023

A Burgundy diary – 20 September 2023

Thoughts on voies vertes verges

Autumn is here. This morning the temperature was 10º. Now it’s back up to 27º. It’s warm, but not 33º and more that it was in early September and before. And we’ve had some rain; but I am sure we need much more.

I went down to the market in Épinac. I left wearing a pull and was quite chilly on my bike. Once I’d done my shopping and had a croissant with coffee – I’m still and English tourist, after ten years here! – it was much warmer as I climbed by bike back up the hill to the barn.

Along the voie verte between Sully and Épinac I was at first impressed that the verges were being tidied up. (Yes, ‘verge’ is a common French slang word for penis – or rod or wand – according to an on-line dictionary.) I wondered if the person doing the trimming – or in fact doing rather more than that – really needed to do so much. ‘Trimming’ included cutting right back to where the verges abutted the field and hedges and trees, and hacking back overhanging trees as is often the fashion round here.

On my return journey I couldn’t believe it: there were four tractors all with the necessary rotary and trimming and scything machinery and all working up the track near Épinac. (I’d probably seen one of them earlier.) They were going off as a team of two in opposite directions along the cycle-track. One of the pair was doing the verges and the other taking up any slack and hacking at trees alongside the track.

When all is said and done, this is a local cycle-track. It is well tarmacked and not invaded in any way by vegetation. It is already about three metres wide; and the verges are as much again on each side with some trees and other foliage alongside.

As I rode back, I wondered why it was necessary to take away so much from the side of the track. Any amount trimmed away or hacked back is bad for the environment: it takes away habitat for bugs and bees; hacking at trees like that does them no good; and all that petrol is wasteful – quite apart from the capital cost and maintenance of each of the four substantial machines. Would not a verge cut back of one metre each side be enough (giving two metres to the bugs and bees and a respite to the trees which could be pruned back a little if ever needed)? And how much of that could be done by scything without machinery or petrol (or is it heresy to say that: I’ll soon be told?)?  Verges like that, especially by a cycle-track, need not be so fastidiously kept.

David Burrows

20 September 2023

A Burgundy diary – 16 September 2023

Early autumn: a few leaves falling

Early autumn is here. Already in mid-September leaves are turning and falling. It doesn’t show on the photo of our local Roman pathway, but there leaves were scattering across the path. Occasionally now we have small sprinkles of rain – nothing to really wet the land – and when the clouds clear the temperatures still climb.

Early mornings are cool, and of course the sun rises much later that in mid-summer. A few days ago, with the temperature at 14º, I set off for a short 3 or 4 mile (5 to 7 kms) walk; and what a difference. Instead of walking, as I had been, in the evening when the temperature is still around 33º – probably less under the trees – I could walk as the sun came up and spread a warm light over the fields where I could see between the trees. The country had that cool damp – how damp in this weather? – smell of early morning. And even then – early September – a few leaves were falling.

David Burrows

16 September 2023