My new website

 My new website is now live at www.slrussell.co.uk. Please do visit! This blog can also be reached from the website. I'll welcome any comments too.

Many a slip

 I should remind myself that plans have a way of going awry!

At the beginning of April my husband suffered a mild stroke and was hospitalised for nine days. Thankfully he is making a good recovery, doing his exercises and in many respects getting back to how he was before. But caution is now necessary and ambitious adventures are on hold - I hope, for now. 

Our beloved dog Rosie has featured on this blog, often in conjunction with photos of France. We lost her at the end of March, at the grand age of seventeen. Sometimes I toy with the idea of getting another rescue dog, but we are hesitant: it's good in some ways to have that freedom which we haven't had while a dear creature is dependent on us. Meanwhile we are content with our daughter's two lively and lovable spaniels.

On the writing front, while there's possibly another story brewing, I am currently concentrating on promoting existing books, and soon I will be launching a brand new website. When it goes live I will put the details on here. Following this there will be posts on social media regarding republication of some of my titles under the banner of Resolute Books, an author's consortium to which I belong, involving, among other things, new covers. All this, I hope, will be in place by the end of the year.

A last goodbye

 

I've posted a fair bit here about our home in France with images both beautiful and desperate - for example, the state of the garden after our long absences during the covid pandemic. The above is a view from the terrace up the garden, lightly dusted with frost. There won't be any more, because we have sold up, after 23 years. Those long absences, plus the restrictions imposed by Brexit, not to mention we aren't getting any younger and an acre is a lot to look after when you can only visit from time to time, all contributed to our decision. It was the moment to go, and we are thankful that our buyers are younger, French, live locally, and have plans for the house which will improve it, I'm sure. It's a strange feeling that it's no longer ours, and of course we are sad, but there's also a sense of relief to have relinquished the responsibility. I won't be wondering, in winters when the weather is fierce, whether the big old trees are still standing, or whether there are tiles off the garage roof.

Our love affair with France isn't over, though. In a few months we'll be back for a few days, hoping to catch sight of the glorious field of irises in Monet's garden. And having made many dear friends there we will certainly be visiting. But for now, after a bit of a breathing space, we'll be looking out for new adventures.

A new book! The Art of Life is now available.

 After almost two and a half years - for a proportion of which I wondered if I'd run out of stories - a new book has just been published! Hurrah! It's called The Art of Life and is published by Resolute Books. You can visit it on Amazon, marvel at the glorious cover, read a brief description, download it for a mere £2.99 or order a paperback for £8.99. I am obviously biased, but books are amazingly good value when you consider how much time and work goes into them, and not only in the writing of them. Editing, formatting, design, publicity, marketing...And you and a friend would probably spend more than £8.99 on a cup of coffee apiece!

Research and fiction

 I am now in the middle of writing my tenth novel. I like to write about things that intrigue and fascinate me, and I live in hope that others may also find them interesting. In November my intrepid husband and I took our elderly motorhome to North Yorkshire, because my current story takes place there in large part and while I have visited the Yorkshire Dales before it has always been in summer. Now, I needed to experience the area in worse weather, and was secretly hoping for snow (my driver was hoping quite the opposite.) As it turned out, for the eight days of our stay it rained every day but one, and we hadn't even arrived at our campsite before we were faced with impassably flooded roads. Some floods we braved, but others looked too deep and we were forced to take a back route - think tiny bendy roads, big puddles , drystone walls...

Owing to the unusual quantity of rain the rivers and becks were swollen, the waterfalls were roaring torrents and the low fields lay under water. A few meters below our campsite pitch a sizeable river rose and sank as the rain came and went, but luckily we were several meters above it.

This all made for dramatic scenery which as tourists we enjoyed, but I imagine the locals, especially the farmers, were less impressed.

The only day when it didn't rain we decided to drive the long, winding, and occasionally quite alarming but very beautiful (in a bleak wintry way) Buttertubs Pass, where we encountered high drama in the form of sharp bends, steep climbs and scary plunges - as well as many sheep.

These were the famous Swaledales, a hardy breed, with their curling horns and black and white faces.

Once in a while the sun showed itself and we were rewarded with  a landscape in which you could stretch your eyes for miles.

As the day wore on the weather closed in, threatening heavy clouds piled up in the sky, and it was obvious that rain was on its way - a safe bet. Nevertheless I wanted to look at a station on the Settle to Carlisle railway, because at this station, or one very like it, my protagonist alights from the train. Here it is, lonely and damp, and not a soul in sight.

I had hoped that our trip would inform and inspire me and set my imagination leaping and bounding, but I wasn't prepared for quite how lasting an impression it would make. A month after our return I am reliving it and finding that it has enriched the background to my story. I hope I can do justice to this stunning region and make it live on the page.

A long goodbye

We knew the day would come - when we would make the decision to leave France, sell our house, close down that period of time when we lived parallel lives. Originally it was a ten-year project, but things changed, and by the time we go - next spring onward, if all goes to plan - we will have been there 22 years. It's a long time! Two thirds of our married life and the only house we bought together. 

So it's been longer than we thought and we are thankful for the great privilege of living in another country (albeit a close neighbour), sharing a different way of life, speaking a different language, and there is much we will miss. 

Several things have contributed to our decision, the majority out of our control. The Covid pandemic set limits on movement, and there were two long periods where we couldn't travel, first 9 months, then 5 months, and when you have a wild acre of cider orchard an enforced absence allows nature to take over in a big way! We have never really caught up, and I have had to lower standards. A weed-free drive? Not a chance. Now too the Brexit regulations are beginning to bite, and we can't stay as long as we used to, so again controlling the garden is becoming more difficult. On top of this, we are getting older and creakier, and less willing to spend our whole time labouring; and it is becoming more expensive too to run two homes.

We've loved it, and it will be  huge wrench. But nothing lasts for ever.

Apart from friends, I will miss my trees the most. Some we planted as metre-high saplings and they are now tall, spreading and stately. Inevitably some shrubs we have lost, but others have recovered from frost and drought to flower brilliantly. I have taken lots of photos to remind me just how beautiful they are, and I share a few of them here.

Our dog Rosie has been coming to France with us since she was 9 months old, and in a couple of months she'll be 16. Here she is, looking down the drive.

A close-up of that glorious blue hydrangea. The soil is acid, so I have been able to indulge my love of azaleas and rhododendrons.

I know this beautiful tree as a redbud, but it has many names, so here's the Latin: Cercis Canadensis.

The grass just cut, shrubs in flower, definitely not a bowling green!

Fruiting pears. Over the years the ancient cider apple trees have died or fallen and been cut up for firewood, but we have panted apples, pears and plums.

Of all our trees perhaps this one, Catalpa aurea, has been the most magnificent. From a waist-high sapling to a shapely, tall tree, with golden-green, tea-plate-sized leaves in spring and clusters of delicate, pink and white, fragrant flowers in summer, it bowers over the side garden and is quite dazzling.

An exciting new venture

 

Against a sun-drenched backdrop of the glorious hills and valleys of West Dorset in the UK, a group of authors - of which I have the privilege to be a member - celebrated the launch of our consortium, Resolute Books.

This came as the culmination of many months of discussion and preparation, and with the members coming from all over the country it was all done on Zoom. Some members hadn't met each other in person until launch day, and that was an added pleasure. 

Two members launched their books on the day, making it even more special: Paul Trembling brought out his crime novel, Local Killer, latest in his 'Local' series.

 

And  C.F.Dunn introduced Wheel of Fortune, the first volume of her historical fiction series, The Tarnished Crown.

Both these fine books can be ordered from bookshops or Amazon.

Other books by Resolute members, published elsewhere, were also on display. My own are there, flanked by Paul's other works and the Isabella M. Smugge series by Ruth Leigh. 

No celebration would be complete without food and drink! The French fizzy was well chilled and the canapes were magnificent.

There will be more titles published under the Resolute banner in the fullness of time, with other members' work represented covering a sweep of genres, from thrillers to crime, memoir and contemporary drama, devotional and humour, among others.

For more information please visit www.resolutebooks.co.uk

A special birthday

 My husband said he wanted to be mowing our acre in France on his 80th, and he got his wish. He is very fortunate to be able to! Here he is, wearing an appropriate T shirt given by a friend.

Having family members with us made it even better, and we did some touristy things, including a very wet visit to Mont St Michel!

The weather wasn't great, but it didn't deter us, and the dogs loved this beach.

 

The highlight was a musical party with friends, most of whom made a contribution. The family practised beforehand, indoors and out.

A clever friend made this magnificent cake.

Then everyone went home, and we got on with the jobs - including harvesting our apples.

More on the follies, and keeping up with Rosie

That dog of mine has been posting again, so I thought I should follow suit. 

The new patio in France came into use on our last visit. This was breakfast on a sunny morning.

In folly no.2, the motorhome, we had fun recently up and down the beautiful hills of Derbyshire. It was quite disconcerting at times finding ourselves poised on the brink of a totally-unforeseen downward swoop. On the upward slope that followed there was some doubt whether we'd actually make it to the top!

Probably inevitably, our photos usually seem to involve meals! Here I am, under the awning, with Rosie taking her ease.

The motorhome will be back in her usual parking spot soon, awaiting her next adventure, because in just over a week we are off to France. After a gap of two months or so, no doubt there will be a  jungle to tame - again.

Put to shame by my dog

 Some of you who have dipped into this blog may remember that my dog Rosie had a blog of her own, called Rosie's Ruminations. I think she's trying to shame me into posting more often, because I see she has just published a new post! If you would like to see what she's been doing, it's at www.doghair1.blogspot.com.

Here's a photo of Rosie in our motorhome, ready for a new adventure.

I can't feel too shamed because at least I have posted sometimes in the last nine years, whereas she has been most neglectful! We both need to do better.

He is risen!

 Wishing you all a happy and blessed Easter.

Calling all readers in the US!

 

There's a giveaway on the blog tour today - a signed copy for a UK reader and another for someone in the US.  Head to www.penelopeswithinbank.com to read an interview with me and find details of how to enter. 

Winding up the blog tour

 The blog tour for The Wounds of Time is coming to an end.  Seven bloggers have contributed so far and I am very thankful to them for their generous support. If you missed any, I'm giving their links below. Just two to go now: tomorrow Penelope Swithinbank is offering a giveaway to her UK and US readers, and on Monday - publication day! - my good friend Deborah Jenkins rounds off the tour. I should note that all these people are gifted authors you may well wish to investigate. In addition, Liz Carter is responsible for the production of the book including the cover design and I warmly recommend her publishing services. From Monday copies can be ordered from Amazon. I hope you may read, enjoy, and possibly also review. Thank you for reading this far!

www.wendyhjones-bookaholic.blogspot.com

www.yearningblue.weebly.com

www.cfdunn.co.uk

www.stillwonderinghere.net

www.vicarioushome.com

www.penelopeswithinbank.com

www.greatadventure.carterclan.me.uk

www.scskillman.com

www.ruthleighwrites.co.uk

More on the blog tour!

 

The blog tour for The Wounds of Time  resumes today with an article by author S.C.Skillman. 

On with the blog tour!

 Two fascinating views on The Wounds of Time! Paul Trembling (author of The Hidden Libraries, among others) is at https://yearningblue.weebly.com/the-reality-escape-committee  and today's review and interview is by Ruth Leigh, creator of Isabella M. Smugge at RuthLeighWrites. 

The blog tour begins!

 The blog tour for The Wounds of Time starts today with vicarioushome.com. Why not take a look?

A new book!

 

Novel number nine, almost published! The Wounds of Time is the third in a sort-of series following The Healing Knife and The Thorn of Truth. Today it can be pre-ordered on Kindle and there will be paper copies available after 21 March. Tomorrow 8 March a blog tour is beginning. Visit my Facebook page to keep track of what readers are saying!

Back in France at last - plus the latest folly

 We've been back in France now about ten days, and so far the weather has been kind for November. We've had rain, but not for long, and there was one very cold evening and night, but we've also had brisk breezes and bright sunshine, and the trees have been resplendent with colour. Here are some of ours, big and small, before the cold and the wind stripped them bare.

Liriodendron tulipifera - gloriously golden leaves bigger than my hand, with their odd geometric shape.

The copper beech

Magnolia 'Yellow River'

Sadly we were too late to see the resplendent autumn colour of the Claret Ash, but Rosie thought she would pose in the drift of leaves all around its trunk!

We thought it was too wet for much garden work, but I managed to cut back and weed and clear enough for two trips to the dump. And then the mower came out after all - but stopped in its tracks when the petrol ran out!

Here's a lovely drive up to a chateau where we walked the dog.

I took some photos of inside the house, since nearly everything I post is of the garden. Our lounge rarely looks this tidy, but we were expecting guests!

As if an ancient pile in France were not enough, we have recently acquired  a motorhome (that's the folly.) The thinking was, 'If we leave it till we no longer have our home in France, we'll be too doddery to go anywhere.' 

Here she is: a venerable lady 20 years old.

Our first (and so far only) night away, just to get acquainted.

Rosie thought it might be amusing to explore the bathroom.

It was very cold that night, and we weren't especially well-prepared, so we were awake for a cup of tea at 6 a.m.!

What next? We hope to explore other parts of France using our house here as a base. A friend has alerted us to a man-made lake, miles away to the east, where thousands of cranes flock in the autumn. Maybe that's something to aim for next year!

New website address

 As of today, my website is at www.slrussell.org. Why not have a look?

Towering vegetation

 After the experience of 2020 when we were away from our French house (reluctantly) for five months, arriving to a bewildering amount of garden clearance, in 2021 we found a man to cut the grass every fortnight from March until we were able to do it ourselves. This time the period of enforced absence was longer still - nine months. We arrived in August and stayed a month, and  even though the grass had been seen to there was still a huge backlog to tackle. Looming large, both in fact and in our minds, were our hedges. There are two of them - one runs the width of the back garden, the other forms one border of the potager, and both have their other side in our neighbour's property.

This neighbour is new to the place, and we don't know him. Our impression is that he has no wish to know us, unlike the previous people who were happy to chat when we coincided and were generous with their surplus produce. Our unpopularity may be something to do with the number of bonfires we lit when trying to clear the contents of the fallen boulangerie. As a result the far side of both hedges, always inaccessible by us, were still out of reach, because the hedges are about eight feet deep!  A few years ago a doughty visiting family member who happens to be very tall found an old door which he put on top of the hedge and then sat on it and wielded the chainsaw and hedge trimmer -  but even he couldn't reach the far side. So the hedges were a problem, and one we couldn't solve by ourselves. As has sometimes happened in the past, we consulted our long-term French neighbours who live half a mile down the lane. They are very helpful and know everybody. True to form they suggested we seek the help of someone they knew, who lived very close and who would welcome extra money. It was confusing as both these gentlemen had the same name and we had to refer to them as J1 and J2! After inspection and polite negotiation along came J2 and worked extremely hard over three days to take our hedges down to a manageable height so that once again we could deal with them ourselves. As a bonus he knew our neighbour and obtained permission to cut from his side. How, we wondered, would he get up there to do the job?

He brought his elderly tractor round to our back garden, and attached to its front forks three or four pallets which acted as a platform. He then scaled a ladder propped against the side and proceeded to wield his chainsaw with alarming insouciance. When I suggested it looked dangerous he waved away my cautious British objections with a very Gallic shrug, and it wasn't until after the job was completed that I asked myself who would have been liable if he'd had an accident. Happily, for him, for us, and for his two young children who found our garden a great place for riding their bikes, he didn't.

The finished hedges looked trim as never before.

Of course his efforts resulted in piles of clippings. Disposing of unwanted vegetation involves for us bootloads of stuff and many trips to the local dump. But here our wonderful neighbour - J1 - came to the rescue. With considerable skill he trundled down our drive in his tractor, turned it round and attached a large and antique-looking trailer. I commented, 'J, I think you have done this before,' and he just grinned.

With a few webbing straps in place, the swaying heap was taken away. We had no idea what they did with it - I suspect farmers have pits they burn stuff in - and we didn't much care. For the first time in years the hedges were down and a weight lifted from us. Not only that, but in J2 we may have found someone we can call on in the future.

Amazingly, very little was spilled!