Buttercups

How beautiful the buttercup meadows look in Spring!  On the edge of Damvillers, to the left cows in a meadow below the hill called Horogne, and, to the right a meadow, below the Romagne hill, is home to horses and foals.

The field is between the River Thinte and the Promenade de Moulin, which path lies below what were, at one time, the ramparts when the village was fortified.

The path meanders between fields and gardens and is the ideal spot for a pleasant stroll not too far from home.

Laundries and Fountains - 4.

Sunday, May 17th 2015.  A mix of warm sunshine and clouds.

We decide to leave domestic worries behind, pack a simple picnic lunch and “head for the hills”. 

In many places the verges are lined with buttercups and cow parsley like gold and silver not-so-hidden treasures.  The open farmland and many forests look particularly lovely at this time of the year.  On the way to  Quincy Landzecourt we stop to admire the views.

We continued on the narrow road that twists and turns between open fields, rolling hills and forests to the charming village of...

The houses and gardens are attractive, neat and well cared for, some locals smile and wave at us and it appears to be a lovely and tempting place to live - although no doubt it has its difficulties in winter and without any shops or services that we could see.  But we found buttercup meadows, flowering bushes and trees, many birds, a sparkling and bubbling stream, and a fountain.

Then, skirting Montmedy, to Bazeilles sur Othain…

Afterwards we went to Plan d’eau at Marville to enjoy a late lunch of  sandwiches and fruit at the lakeside.

Our drive through the beautiful countryside to find more lavoirs et fontaines proved to be a tonic.

A bit of a domestic!

In the midst of a week of worry over family health problems we could have done without the additional stress which landed on Wednesday morning (14th May) .

Regional Council workmen arrived, without advance notice - not that it would have done much good in the circumstances - complete with lorries, including a tar one to patch up the road at the side of our house.

There was some sort of accident with the hose of the tar-sprayer which squirted the wet tar over the workmen (none in their eyes luckily), a parked car (thankfully not one of ours) and our walls, windows and little strip of garden.

The men were very apologetic about the accident and supplied us with their details and urged us to contact our insurers straight away.  We await developments.

To serve me right for being thankful it was not one of our cars that was damaged, a few days later, on Saturday morning, an elderly lady managed to clip the offside rear of our daughter’s car, which was parked, at the same time damaging her own vehicle… so yet another lot of insurance matters to deal with.

We thought this accident was probably caused by her looking at the tar deposits but later we discovered the poor woman was distracted by her head being full of family problems. 

I can empathise.

Victory

Friday 1st May 2015. We take the opportunity of a few dry hours in this drizzly, damp, grey day to explore some of the small, back streets of Verdun and find ourselves in the Place de la Libération which is behind the large Victory Statue.

We are more used to being at the bottom of the 73 steps which lead to the 30 metre column, with the statue of a soldier on top, from the main street through the centre of the city.  In the Place we are high up and behind the monument, which was built into the old ramparts.

The countryside is not far, indeed it wraps its arms around the ancient and modern buildings like a hug to comfort this small city which suffered so badly in the First World War. The Battle of Verdun began on February 21st 1916 (my mother’s 9th birthday) and was the bloodiest battle in the sad history of that terrible conflict. The motto of the French Army there was “They Shall Not Pass” and the soldiers lived and died by those words and the city of Verdun was battle-scarred but saved.

In the centre of the steps, on each of them, small fountains bubble and the water runs down, through the centre of a boulevard and to a fountain in the River Meuse - a statement on the joy of freedom.

Our first visit to the area was in 2005 and I wrote a poem in tribute to the 90th anniversary of the battle.  The thoughts apply to the 100th anniversary which will be marked next year.

The Battle of Verdun 1916

The mud, the mud, the stinking mud
that held them fast, sucked out their souls
The mud, the mud, the blood-soaked mud
between the hills. Both armies’ goals.
The stench, the stench, of rain-filled trench
The burrows underground
The squash, the squish of rotting flesh
as arms and legs were found.
The noise, the noise, no escape boys
from the whine and thud of shell
“What did you do in the war?”
“I fought and lived in hell.”
“Fight for the ridge! Fight for the hill!
It’s where we’ll see them best!”
Flattened the ridge, flattened the hill
O’er buried soldiers gone to rest.
Villages gone to tank and gun
Left – a bloodied battleground.
Forests - all trees gone, every one.
Then eerie silence – not a sound.

Now the rolling hills are green again
The fields are lush with growth
New forests house the birds again,
happy to play host
In this calm and peaceful scene
when you hear their joyous song
Sometimes, carried on the breeze,
joining in – a ghostly throng
As their voices rise from the well-kept graves
and from the blood-soaked earth
Thousands of voices, now in harmony, sing
“This is what our deaths were worth.”