Turning Water into Wine

September 8, 2018

Tomorrow will be the start of the 2018 grape harvest at Morlanche. Our neighbours Brice and Lisa have been busy all year to make this the best vintage ever! And yes, the grapes look pretty promising!

 

 

A few days ago, last year’s wine was finally bottled – a necessity, as the vats need to be filled with the new grapes. This is the reward for all the work done in 2017 and for the constant checking up on the quality over the last 12 months. We think that they can be proud of themselves – the wine is extremely good – so sales can begin and feasts can continue!

Bottling at Morlanche

Lisa sealig the corks

 

But the big event for Brice and Lisa this year was the creation of a new vineyard on the hill opposite Les Sarziers on the way to Arlebosc. 5,300 plants were to be planted – approximately half red (Gamay), and half white (Marsanne and Roussanne) on roughly two acres of land.

 

Throughout the coldest and windiest period of the winter Brice measured out the terrain and planned the geometry of his new plantation.

Then in January and February the planting started.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Everything seem to go according to plan …

… until the sighting of some rabbits (which for some reason seem to hold no interest for the chasseurs). So bamboo sticks and nets for each of the plants had to be purchased and put into place.

Then in the early spring the first leaves made an appearance and things looked promising. The wettest spring of the decade encouraged the plants to grow fast and steadily. Of course the weeds knew the same trick and were slightly better at it! This cohabitation, which is just about tolerable when it is raining, became a nuisance and later a problem as the summer drought and the high temperatures turned the soil of the vineyard into the equivalent of an airport runway. The vines started to wilt and gasp for water – even the weeds were ready to give up the ghost. We prayed for rain, but there was none in sight.

So Brice called for a desperate rescue plan. With no spring and no mains water nearby he had to find another way of getting the water to the plants.

And this was when the solidarity of the neighbouring farmers kicked in. One of them provided a water tank on wheels and offered the water from his pond that could be pumped into the container twice daily, another lent a tractor, which Brice learned to drive after a one minute driving lesson, and a third gave us access to his well above the vineyard, which could provide water by gravity. Still others (ourselves included) helped with the chore of manually watering the vineyard, using miles and miles of garden hose.

 

Brice and Lisa set up an app on a phone which beeped every 17 seconds, alerting us to move on the next plant. Each one got 2 litres of water and then another two on the return up the rows – a job that took two people seven hours, three days a week and needed to be repeated week. Fortunately, after about 20 days there was some rain – not much, but enough to relax for a bit.

In the last few weeks the temperature has dropped and we had some rain on Thursday – so the panic is over. What looked like a loss of 30% has turned out to be around 5%.

Oui, on a eu chaud!

So let’s cheer ourselves up and look to the vendange …. Santé!

Markus

Charlie meets Roger

August 21, 2018


After the massive success of Swing aux Sarziers last August, we had considered taking a break from our annual summer concert. But then our friend François told us that some of the tour dates for his group Latin Bird had been cancelled. Would we be up for a concert, in which Markus would be playing all of the second set? You don’t refuse an offer like that!

François is an amazing musician, who plays double bass and heads up several jazz groups, exploring different styles. For Latin Bird, his idea was to re-work Charlie Parker tunes in Latin and Cuban rythms, with Linda, his wife on keyboards, Pierre on a specially adapted and pretty amazing percussion set and a brass solo instrument (usually Selim on saxophone in homage to the legendary “Bird”).


The result is intoxicating and unpredictable, and they kicked up a veritable storm at les Sarziers last Saturday night. Everyone, including Markus, was on top form and around a hundred people enjoyed a memorable evening of music, followed by the traditional buffet dinner under the chestnut tree.

Our neighbour Claude did a one-man animation du parking with his bass clarinet and cymbal contraption and Julien, a guitarist newly arrived from Belgium, performed a couple of solo numbers to start the evening off.

People often comment on how beautiful the setting is for these concerts. The musicians love their perfomance space in the calabert and the great accoustics, whilst the audience enjoys settling down in the lovely summer courtyard as the moon rises, the bats flit about, the stone walls glow gently in the fading light and the music takes over everything.

Guests also tell us how much they enjoy mingling and chatting to old friends and new in the interval and during dinner. It is true that the atmosphere is quite unique and, as we were mulling things over later we were struck by the hugely diverse range of people who gather for such events round here.


As you can see there are always quite a few children, either with their parents or brought by the grandparents with whom they are staying for the summer. Ages range from under two (hello Boris!) to well over eighty and our guests included a vet, a mason, two poets, a psychiatrist, an electrician, a winegrower, a painter, a translator, cheese makers, teachers, social workers, blacksmiths, photographers, philosophers …..
and ….
in an absolute first ….
our neighbour Roger!


Yes, there he is, accompanied by two neighbouring ladies, sitting on three of his four kitchen chairs, up on his field above the courtyard wall. Roger is extremely shy and has never accepted our invitation to join us for a concert but this time Anne-Marie managed to persuade him out, and even to come down and sit in the courtyard for the second half. We haven’t seen him since, but we are delighted that he came and from the big smile on his face and enthusiastic applause, we are pretty sure that he had a good time.

PS The following morning we had a gig with a different group to kick off a Swing Dance Festival in Vernoux. I don’t know how we managed it but Markus swung that trumpet, I sang and we all had a great morning in an enchanting little square, playing for the local café crowd and and a bunch of talented and enthusiastic dancers.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

PPS we’ve just received a some great photos of the concert (merci Margote!) here they are.

Par Ici les Artistes!

August 13, 2018

If you have followed this blog over the years you will probably have realised that  apart from hiking in our lovely hills a considerable amount of our energy has been put into encouraging the musical events in the area, mainly as spectators, but also as performers and organizers.

Now we rarely talk about the presence and activities of the artists, painters and potters  who have settled in the area.  This does not mean they don’t exist.  Like all of us, they have been attracted by the beauty and diversity of the Ardèche landscape and by the affordability of food and lodging.  Like all artists they come and go, but we have some real pillars in the community.

To celebrate this, the ever inventive Laurent – now joined at Kaopa by his very creative partner Sandy – recently  organized an event which he called “Art à la Criée” in the little alley in front of his café in Lamastre.

La Criée is normally associated with fish markets  (especially the one in Marseille) where the catch that has just come in on the fishing boats is sold off in a boisterous and noisy auction, in which shouting has an intrinsic role.

Lamastre is landlocked – so no fish from the Mediterranean, but art work freshly produced by local artists!

Fifteen artists, using diverse media, set themselves up and worked away steadily all morning, despite the rain and the crowds of people chattering and peering over their shoulders.

It was impressive to see how calmly absorbed they were and to observe different techniques and ways of working.

Periodically Laurent and the auctioneer , a professional tourneur , would select a piece to be sold.

Bidding started at 5 euros and the final amounts were mostly very modest, but the notion of acquiring a work of art which had scarcely had time to exist before being sold made for a lively auction and an exhilarating atmosphere.

The morning concluded with a Match d’Improvisation  between two teams of artists – the idea being that the teams had to create a painting on a single given theme, with handicaps introduced from time to time, such as closing one eye, painting with the left hand or using an imposed colour.

Unfortunately our day was busy and we couldn’t stay …. so we don’t know who won.

Gammes, Gamay …

July 25, 2018

Yes I know, these blog posts are like London buses: nothing for weeks and then they all come along in a row.  Its not that there’s nothing to say, rather too much going on!

Brice and Lisa, our neighbours, were far too busy in the vineyards to make it to the concert unfortunately.  The long wet spring meant that the vines – and the weeds – were growing great guns and they have been out working all hours to keep things under control.  More of that later.

Instead, Brice dropped off a case of their 2017 cuvée, the bottles beautifully inscribed.  The word games are very clever, but difficult to translate, for example un carton means a case (of wine) but also a huge success.  Other jokes revolve around Gamay (his main varietal) and gammes (musical scales) and the sound of Markus rehearsing, which he could hear floating across the meadows as he toiled in the vineyard.

But for all you French speakers out there, here they are.  We were very touched, and his wine, by the way, is excellent!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Photo credits: Markus

Photomontage: Brice Banchet

Echoes from April

July 23, 2018

Faithful readers may be wondering how Carla’s concert went.  It’s taken a while to get hold of these great photos (merci Gerald), which give a good idea of the atmosphere.  It was a hugely successful event, with full houses for both dates and a powerful experience for all of us.  Carla is a tremendously engaging performer – as you can see – and the audience loved her music.

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

We are still waiting for an audio file of the concert, but meanwhile, here is the text of one of the songs – words by Elena Hoyer, set to music by Carla and sung by Kate.

Corridor 

Down the corridor of my family tree

Hidden skeletons silently beg

to come into the light,

Like dangerous fireflies

And then . . .

 

So let’s take a walk down memory lane,

The longing of a long forgotten land

Exile – and dreams to come.

The rising of a fuller moon

So far . . .

 

So many times – You cried and bled and fled away

My dear Elders – I swear I’ll try to heal your wounds

Leave it to me – I’ll find a way to set us free.

Open the book –

Where do I fit in?

Where do I belong?

I am the black sheep,

I’m the question mark,

I’m the bearer of tomorrow and the early morning star . . . .

                                                                                                dancing on chaos.

 

Down the corridor of my family tree

Forgotten heroes send me strength

And hope – For my blue days,

The falling of the golden leaf

And yet . . .

 

So let’s take a walk down memory lane

I see their shifting shapes dissolving . . . .

Silence – heaven and back

Leaving behind a trail of roses

For me.

Photo credits Gerald FAY

Le Grand Evènement

June 11, 2018

Roll up, roll up!

 

… there’s something going on in Arlebosc.

Excitement and anticipation …

It’s a big moment ….

and everyone is here ….

Can you spot a theme?

Yes!!   “habemus pistorem!”  No Papal balcony for the announcement, but in the village the arrival of a new baker is almost as momentous an occasion!

Our previous baker left Arlebosc in the early spring and it felt as though the life had gone out of the village.  Although he never really seemed to have his heart in the job and the boulangerie was not exactly buzzing, the fact that we would no longer be able to pick up our bread still warm from the oven, and chat to other villagers as we did so, was a huge blow to everybody.  So much so that the Mayor and municipal council put everything into finding a successor, and to this end bought the premises and bread oven (which is installed next door in the “château” with the tower that you see on the photos), greatly reducing the financial burden on anyone wishing to take up the challenge.

Now for the speeches

The mayors of four neighbouring villages were present, together with representatives from the local region and the Département.  They all echoed the speech by the mayor of Arlebosc, Jean-Paul Agier, emphasising the importance of farming, craftsmen, small businesses and artisans to the rural economy.  The municipality was offering a free baguette to everyone present, and as Jean-Paul said, we’d all be back the next day, since bread needs to be bought fresh daily.

… couldn’t agree more!

Smiles all round.

This really does look like a new beginning.  Nathan, our new baker (he’s the one looking a bit shell-shocked to the right of the mayor) is only 19, and has just completed his professional training.  The great thing is that he is accompanied by his parents, who will be running the shop and organising distribution of depôts de pain to other villages less fortunate than we are.  They are friendly and welcoming and are all obviously prepared to work hard and make a success of the venture.

Nathan and his father David

The boulangerie has been spruced up, reorganised and repainted and Nathan is making rye bread, wholemeal and country loaves as well as the traditional baguettes and flûtes.  It’s a tricky business getting the hang of a new bread oven and pleasing all the clients.  The locals generally like their bread well browned, but not so crunchy that the denture-wearers can’t get their teeth into it!  Nathan is getting a lot of feed back, and the general opinion is that his bread is really good.

Nathan’s mother selecting a loaf

He is also turns out excellent croissants and pains au chocolat, no mean feat, since for the time being he has to bake them in the bread oven whereas they should go into a pastry oven, fan assisted and with no steam.  All this really pinpoints how crucial a boulangerie is to local life.  Each baker is a true artisan: absolutely everything is made fresh on the premises – no question of freezing dough or baking industrially produced items – so inevitably, each baker has his own touch, within the basic sacred parameters, just as everyone’s pastry comes out slightly differently.

So it’s all good news!  The Milhots are a local family from Satilleu, about 20 miles away, so they know that the Ardèche, although wonderful in every way, is not all sunshine and holiday makers, and that the winters are much quieter.  Best of all, Nathan is also a qualified pâtissier, so once he has got his head round the business, they will be investing in a pastry oven, and cakes will be back on the menu.  Hooray!

 

 

Life goes on ….

June 5, 2018

It was Roger’s birthday on Sunday and we popped round in the morning with a present.  It’s not easy to get him to accept a gift: in the past I have managed an enamelled coffee pot to replace his, which had sprung a leak, and once I made him a new red flag with which he could warn traffic when he was bringing his cows home for milking and needed to get them across the road.  This year it was Markus who had the perfect idea.  Roger’s transistor radio had got stuck on the wrong station and, in order for him to hear the Mass which is broadcast on Sundays by the local radio station, he was obliged to go outside to sit in his van and listen on the car radio.  He has been doing this for some months now, all through the bitter cold of February, and Markus decided it was time to recycle our portable radio.  Roger was (discretely) pleased with his gift, and after the regulation pastis we said goodbye – he was off to lunch at his cousin’s.

As we scrambled down the short cut over the bank we realised that a group of  about a dozen people were milling about interestedly in the courtyard.  It was a family, en route for a get-together in Empurany, involving more than a hundred people, and this group had stopped at les Sarziers so that the patriarch could show them ‘our’ house, where he was born.  The inverted commas are because we have always felt that we are simply custodians of a place which has had a long history before we came, and will probably continue its life long after we are gone.  Over the years various people have shown up and told us about their memories, living here as the children of tenant farmers.   In this way we have learned about the animals they kept, the crops and vegetables they grew, how the water supply worked, and how hard it was making a living on poor, dry soil, enduring long freezing winters and baking hot summers.

This family were delightful, and so grateful to be shown around.  Michel had lived here for just one year, from 1939 to 1940 when he was sent away to be brought up by a relative as the family had grown too large for the farm to sustain all of them.  He told us that he came back to visit his parents from time to time and showed us photos of himself as a toddler sitting on a rug in the courtyard with a sibling.  He remembered the wine barrels in the big cellar and was delighted that they are still in situ (although unfortunately now empty!)  We have long wondered who was the Marius who carved his name into the kitchen window sill, and it turns out that it was his uncle, who worked locally as a builder.

It was a lovely visit, and he thanked us with a gift of a bottle of vin de noix and reproductions of a little watercolour painting that he had made of the house.

Just a few weeks ago, at the reception after Carla’s concert, I got talking to a lady I had met just once at a friend’s house, who worked as a district nurse here in the 1960’s, braving the twisty lanes in all weathers in her 2CV.  I could see that she was very struck to find herself in our kitchen, and she asked me if I knew anything about the last people to live here before us.  Indeed we do know that the family left after a tragedy – first the father died and then the son fell ill with terminal cancer.  It all came back to her then, it was she who had come daily to care for him in his last months.  I showed her his room and she gazed around, her eyes full of memories, it was a very moving moment.

On a cheerier note – the widow and daughter moved only a little way away, down closer to the river, where the family still owns a little land, on which the daughter has a mobile home.  Years ago she stopped and asked to have a look at the house and garden and told us that what she loved most was the little medlar tree which grew by the Doghouse, she even confessed that in the winter, when the fruit had bletted, she sometimes came up and picked some if we weren’t here.

We told her of course that that was fine, but after she had gone we were left in a quandary.  The medlar tree was seriously in the way of plans we had to reorganise, but now we simply could not cut it down as we had intended, without planting another somewhere else!  We hastily bought a sturdy specimen and installed it under the garden wall where it continues to thrive, producing masses of fruit every year.  Personally I’m not a big fan of medlars, so I do hope she still comes up foraging for some in the winter!

Carla at les Sarziers

April 20, 2018

Preparations are well underway for our upcoming concert next week end!

Our friend Carla will be performing her own compositions for piano, and what started out as simply “Carla dans la Grange” has grown into “Carla De Preter and Friends”.  She has arranged some of her pieces as duos for clarinet, violin or with Markus on trumpet and has also composed settings for poems written by our mutual friend Elena, some of which Kate will be singing.

For a taste of Carla’s musical style, click here.

We’re looking forward to a great event, and meanwhile Markus is doing a fine job adjusting the piano.

(By the way Roz, have you noticed the Tee Shirt?)

Bombyx Mori – suite et fin!

April 11, 2018

Well now, spring will finally be with us soon (or so the calendar assures us), so let’s get this silk thing wrapped up!

Where we left the saga everything was going great guns, so obviously disaster was lurking around the corner – and so it proved. A busy, productive and largely successful period for the rural Ardèche was about to come to and end as three pillars of the agricultural economy were successively hit by disease. The first to succumb was sericulture, with annual production plummeting from around 3.5 million kilos of cocoons in 1850 to just 550,000 seven years later. The culprit was la pébrine or ‘pepper disease’, a parasitic infection which, once acquired, is passed on from female moths to their eggs and kills all the larvae hatched from those eggs. The boom years had led to conditions of severe overcrowding and insufficient hygiene in the magnanneries which had in turn been exacerbated by a succession of mild winters and damp summers. In previous cases of illness the farmers had been able to solve the problem by buying in new stock from abroad, but here nothing seemed to work, and no one knew why. After a year of scientific study, Louis Pasteur discovered a method of selecting only healthy moths for reproduction, but his findings were fiercely contested, both by silk producers, whose amour propre was offended by the pronouncements of a mere scientist and the foreign suppliers, who had a lot to lose. The epidemic lasted around ten years before it was finally brought under control, using Pasteur’s methods, but artisanal silk production in the Vivarais never recovered. During the crisis the Lyonnais silk merchants had resorted to importing cocoons and raw silk from Italy at very competitive prices. For the peasants, their market had been lost and so the whole era of a lucrative cash economy came to an end, causing severe hardship in the smallholdings.

Almost simultaneously, the farmers had to contend with serious problems in their vineyards. From the 1860’s on, new fungal infections had appeared. First came le mildiou, le black rot and l’oidium, whose names reflect the fact that these diseases originated with imported American vine varieties. Then in 1870 the terrible phylloxera plague started to spread up the Rhône valley and by 1882 three quarters of all the vines in the Ardèche had been wiped out. These were small vineyards, laboriously crafted on steep terraced hillsides in stony, unfertile soil. It was impossible to cultivate any other crop on such unforgiving land and, as another source of income dried up, farms were abandoned and large numbers of people left to find a livelihood elsewhere. Some may have emigrated to North Africa, Lyon or Paris, others found employment in the local towns, on construction projects like our local narrow gauge railway, or in the reeling and weaving mills in the valleys.

As this depopulation was happening a third sickness was insidiously attacking the sweet chestnut plantations. The chestnut tree is so emblematic of life in the Ardèche that it is called l’arbre à pain. Chestnut flour was used to make bread and nourishing winter soup but the tree also accompanied the peasant in every stage of his life. It is said that an ardéchois is born in a house with chestnut roof beams, sleeps in a chestnut cradle as a baby, eats off a chestnut table, works with tools made of chestnut wood and finally is buried in a chestnut coffin.

Had the countryside been buzzing with an active workforce someone would undoubtedly have noticed the sinister black liquid weeping from the base of the chestnut trees. But in 1875 labour was scarce and the plantations were no longer as immaculately maintainted, so the maladie de l’encre was able to take hold and spread. Slowly but surely the magnificent trees withered and died in the grip of yet another fungal organism against which they had no defences.

This looks like the end of the story, and in one way it is. Only the gnarled old mullberry trees growing around the farms are left as witnesses to the adventure of artisanal silk production.

But the industry itself was not done for. In Lamastre there were three factories: Reyne, founded in 1880 along the Doux, reeled locally produced silk, and dispatched it to Lyon to be woven into textiles, and St Etienne for ribbons.

La Varenne, another mill, located below the hospital on the Sumène, survived independently into the 1920’s when it was absorbed into a larger enterprise with its headquarters in Meaux near Paris.  It prospered for many more years, employing 30-40 workers engaged in the production of stockings, socks and underwear.

La Vivaraise in the centre of town produced luxury silk stockings, notably for Dior, and employed up to 180 people.

I remember we found a few packets for sale at a brocante years ago and I wish now that we had bought them. The factory closed in 1968 and was later acquired by André Trigano, founder of the Club Med and adapted for the manufacture of tents, awnings and camping equipment.

Because the survival of this fragile textile industry now depended on its ability to adapt to new synthetic fibres* which require more sophisticated and complex machinery, and although there is no more industrial silk production, several companies do survive, some of them specialising at the very cutting edge of modern textiles. Trigano’s very successful main factory, which builds camping cars and caravans is now located in Tournon, whilst the recently extended Lamastre facility, producing all their mattresses, curtains and cushions, has an in-house training department and employs a workforce of 75.

The most striking example of this adaptability must be Chomarat, located in the little town of le Cheylard with further production sites in two tiny mountain villages and facilities worldwide in Tunisia, China and North America. Founded in 1898, the Group has remained faithful to its Ardèche origins, whilst becoming a world leader in composite and industrial textiles as diverse as textile coatings for car interiors, luxury luggage and protective clothing, waterproof membranes used in road construction and the textile element in composites for boats, snowboards and other sports equipment.  So there we are – not just a rural backwater, but an economy which is constantly evolving and adapting to new challenges and opportunities.  Vive l’Ardèche!

* I got very interested in the invention of the earliest synthetic fibres whilst researching for this article. You may not be so fascinated, but here’s a post script of what I found!

The first artificial silk was discovered accidentally by Louis-Marie Hilaire Bernigaud de Grange, Comte de Chardonnet – what were his parents thinking when he was baptised! – who, in the late 1870’s was working with Louis Pasteur on a remedy to the pébrine epidemic. Failure to clean up a spill in the darkroom resulted in Chardonnet’s discovery of nitrocellulose as a potential replacement for real silk. He called his new invention soie de Chardonnet and displayed it to great acclaim at the Paris Exhibition of 1889. However, it was extremely inflammable and was subsequently replaced with other, more stable materials. The name which was finally chosen for the first artificial silk was Rayon, apparently because of the way in which it reflected the sun’s rays.

The next synthetic fibre to appear on the scene was Nylon, which was developed by Du Pont in the United States in the late 1930s and used as a replacement for Japanese silk during World War II. The Du Pont company was founded in 1802 by Éleuthère Irénée du Pont, (another snappy name!) who had left France for the United States after falling foul of the Revolutionaries. The company first produced gunpowder, then cellulose based paints, synthetic ammonia and other chemicals. In the 1930’s Du Pont began experimenting with the development of cellulose based fibres with the aim of creating a cheaper and superior replacement for silk stockings.

Nylon was first displayed at the New York World’s Fair of 1939 with great fanfare and huge promotion, designed to increase demand for the glamorous and affordable stockings before they were available on the general market. Nylon stockings were promoted as “strong as steel, as fine as the spider’s web” and on October 24th 1939, when the first 4,000 pairs went on sale in Delaware, they sold out in three hours. The following year 64 million pairs were sold and “nylons” quickly became an essential fashion item. However in 1942 domestic production was halted and redirected to military uses, primarily for the manufacture of parachutes and tents.

Throughout America and war-torn Europe, women went to extraordinary lengths to acquire or imitate nylon stockings which were suddenly unobtainable. Nylons became a black market staple and those who could not get their hands on a pair used make-up to create the illusion of hosiery.

No more ladders! 3d a leg, all shades. UK 1941 Daily Telegraph (?)

I remember my mother telling me that as pancake make-up was also unobtainable she had tried custard powder because of its attractive blush pink colour, but that there were disastrous consequences if it came on to rain!

Drawing the seam line with a device made from a screwdriver handle, a bicycle clip and an eyebrow pencil! 1942 (Bettmann/Corbis)

In the US women longed for Peace and Nylons, and Fats Waller wrote the song “When the Nylons Bloom Again”, which is almost a humorous hommage to “There’ll be Blue Birds Over the White Cliffs of Dover”.

At the end of the war, Du Pont announced that production would resume and newspaper headlines cheered “Peace, It’s Here! Nylons on Sale!” and “Nylons by Christmas”. However production delays led to a shortage in supply and thousands of frustrated women queuing for the chance to buy a pair, resulted in the so-called nylon riots in many major cities.

10,000 women queuing for the first post war sale of nylons. San Francisco 1946. (DuPont archives)

Any readers old enough to remember the torture of the suspender belt (which to my mind is the very opposite of a sexy garment!) may also recall the liberation that came with the invention of tights as the only viable hosiery to wear with a mini skirt. I personally instantly adopted both, to the extreme displeasure of the straight-laced Senior Mistress at my school!

Freedom!

Sources: DuPont Archives, Telegraph.co.uk, Bettmann/Corbis, JM Bouchon

Snow

January 29, 2018

For all our Walksweekers and others who have only seen Les Sarziers in the summer, here’s a tiny video of how it looked a couple of days ago.  (Sorry the music is very quiet!)

 


%d bloggers like this: