An email from Amazon France urges: "Préparez la rentrée sans vous ruiner". I guess that refers to the annual expenditure that parents expect for their children's return to school, conflated here with the annual return to Paris from the country, an annual population surge of which there seems to be no equivalent here. Having no children of school age, and not sharing the privilege of a house in the French countryside or a dwelling in Paris to return to, the message in no way applies to me. But it still gives me pleasure to have been addressed in French, in terms intimate enough to suggest that I slot into one or all of those categories..
The climbing beans of three varieties are behaving like jungle plants this summer towering above me in ever increasing tangles. They taunt me with their long, juicy pods in burgeoning clusters, which barely give me time to pick them before more appear. Today, I notice that towards the top of the pitched structure of bamboo poles, which I built for them in the Spring and which is now completely hidden, the beans, being short of room, sometimes curl round one another to form strange rings and half moon shapes, which no supermarket would accept for their regimented displays. The nasturtiums have as usual seeded themselves from last year and now bestrew a whole bed with their orange and yellow blooms. and saucer like leaves. As I select a few flowers for cutting I note that some stems have behaved in a similar way to the beans, eager you might say, to express themselves. In one case a stem has wound itself round another rather like those puzzles of twisted steel shapes, which as a child, one was expected to unlock.