July arrived in Normandie with a much needed relief from the brutal canicule we had a mere week ago. The cool air filled with mist seemed to soften the views from the farmhouse windows. The pastures throughout the countryside where we are a soft golden brown as the farmers have all cut down the wheat & hay preparing it for bundling. But this coolness would be short lived as a relentless wave of heat moved in that seemed to pause time itself. It would also be a busy month at the cottage with last minute back to back to back stays. Luckily having double of everything was keeping it easier to maintain it for turnovers and the 5-star ratings have continued to be posted from our guests.
Midsummer has a way of making you stop and look around at everything you have planted- both in the dirt and in your life. For me it was reevaluating my flowers for next season, making better choices to handle the potential heatwaves and droughts to come here. It was also time to take stock on the life we are building here and what I need to focus on for us to actually stay here as the rules & expectations are consistently changing. It was also when I started to focus on “le petit bonheur”- the little things each day that brought me joy whether it was some fruit from the market, a glass of wine at the end of the day or even something like my out-of-pocket expenses for seeing the doctor.
As I was reflecting on all those things, I realized that it was exactly seventeen years ago I first met my hubby. Back then, I could not have pictured us and the life we have now: the quirkiness of our farmhouse, our cozy little cottage we created, the flowers waiting to be bundled for the market, the kitties & the puppy which are a handful to say the least, or the quiet resilience it takes to build a life side-by-side especially in a new country with a new language.
So many transitions over those 17 years: new homes, new jobs, new adventures. And now another transition begins- not with the flowers or the farm but within myself. My body, much like the land around us, is beginning a new season of its own- a quiet, undeniable shift into perimenopause that call for a different kind of listening. It is both tough physically & mentally for me to grasp that change but it is unfortunately inevitable.
Here’s a look back on July here at the farmhouse: a month of high summer, deep roots, new beginnings and learning to embrace the changing tides within and around us.
Seventeen years ago, when we first met, Normandie and the farmhouse life weren’t even a smudge on the horizon. It’s funny how time works; you wake up one day, look across the table at your partner in life and realize you have built an entire world together, little by little-day by day.
To mark this anniversary, we headed to our new favorite restaurant for a quite lunch. Taking a break from the everyday routines at the farm to enjoy each other’s company and another delicious meal, plus it was nice to get out of the relentless heat as well. Looking back at the time we have been together, the “hills and valleys” as my hubby says, I am struck by how much we have grown into this life together. No relationship is easy- there are things we both do that completely drive the other one insane but the love- the underlining true love we have for each other keeps us together through it all. He is my heart & soul and I know for certain I am his. We will always be that to each other- no matter what life throws at us.
Since our anniversary brought reflection, the rest of July brought pure, sweaty momentum. We’ve been hit with multiple heat waves this month which make getting things done in the field impossible as my window where it was cool enough kept shortening. Armfuls of flowers at this point was an understatement as the heat continued to slow down production of some flowers while sending others to seed. The locals say this heat is “C’est ne normale pas” but I am on the side of it might become to be the new normal. So I created a new area at the farm where I have already started seeds & cuttings for next year’s harvest- more perennials than annuals, more draught tolerant than water hogs, and planning on multiple successions vs single planting to ensure the gaps are filled with something. I have started seed saving as well and new areas in the larger field are being mapped for wild flowers and other flowers that I tend to go foraging for nearby. I am trying to work smarter not harder especially with such a labor intensive job.
With the scorching temperatures, I had to also reevaluate the markets I was scheduled to be at because the flowers weren’t as abundant as originally planned. I pulled out of my local village market for a bit and will return once the dahlias are in full bloom to start at another small village market in Saint Pois. I was welcomed there with open arms and a bit of fan-fare as they announced my pop-up on their social media pages. Again the nerves set in as it was a new market, new faces and my French is still “un peu”. But as the morning unwound, my confidence grew a bit, sharing who I was, where I grow the flowers, and chatting with people who really appreciate local things reminded me of why I was working so hard in the dirt each day. It’s exhausting yet beautiful work-especially when you are wrestling with heat-stressed dahlias, stunted zinnias, vole holes everywhere you look and sweat dripping down your back- but it is definitely a challenge I signed up for and wouldn’t have it any other way. But there were some other great things that happened this month on the flower farm: 3 custom flower orders and I booked a wedding which I am doing next month. Plus a new restaurant is opening in Saint Pois and I got to chat up the new owner about flowers for her tables as well as special events. So lots of new connections as well as repeat business has happened which is all good signs for the future.
Underneath the heatwaves and busyness of the flower farm stuff, there has been another shift happening- one that is much closer to home. This month, my body began to officially drop hints that perimenopause has arrived.
It is definitely an odd thing to navigate-especially when you are regular each month. The extreme latest got me concerned that it could be something else but then I took into account my age (53) and knew it was best to see the doctor to confirm my suspicions. Indeed, that shift has begun.
There’s a quiet invitation in perimenopause to slow down, to stop pushing through every bit of fatigue, to listen to your body and what it actually needs. I have found myself taking a daily afternoon nap because my body says it needs it which I know I could probably never do back in the states. I have learned that my appetite has gotten bigger and I am drinking way more water than before. I have also noticed things like I get sidetracked more, a bit more forgetful and more cranky. I cannot blame the last one on the heat. After seeing the doctor (which by the way only cost me 15 euros thanks to the healthcare system that I contribute to each month) who prescribed a herbal supplement that my pharmacist friend felt I didn’t need to fill right away, I am realizing that I need to extend myself some patient observation to learn what this change will be for me. It is not a loss so to speak; it’s just a new season beginning.
As July draws to a close and the sunset gives a pink hue to the sky, I am feeling a deep sense of peace of where we are here in France. Life definitely isn’t static. It moves in cycles- the weather, the cottage, the flower farm, our life together, and even my changing body. If this month has taught me anything, it’s that there is beauty in letting things shift and giving ourselves the grace to change right along side the seasons.
Follow me on Instagram or Facebook for the day-to-day, behind-the-scenes at life at the farmhouse
Shop my favorite French Finds on Amazon (US) curated by moi
Book a stay with us at our cottage in Normandie
Join me for one of my Brocante Stay Tours in 2027- spaces are limited so book sooner than later.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.