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We just got back from France where we stayed in a wonderful old farm house backing on to a small forest. The visitor's book informed us that there was an old man who lived in the woods behind us. His name was Monsieur Jean and he was, they said, very nice and harmless. Although we come from Ireland and live in an area where there is a small population, we had forgotten what true peace was. At night when the stars came out the animal sounds would begin and the crickets and the frogs fought for their position in the chorus. An owl began his to wit to woo in the early hours of the morning and the wild boar would bellow as dawn broke. Each day as we walked down the road beside the forest on our way to the lake to visit the geese, we would try to see if we could spot Monsiur Jean amongst the trees but never did. On the second week my son Nicholas arrived and immediately set out to explore the woods. Nick has been to Iraq twice, so the woods were a challenge to him.. On the second day he met Monsieur Jean and spoke to him in his halting French. Jean had no English, but offered Nick a glass of wine which had been given to him by the farmer. I should mention that the farm house was in the middle of the Bordeaux Vineyards. He lived in a shed just 6 feet by 4 feet and cooked on an open fire just outside. His possesions were small, a sleeping bag, a few pots and pans and a mirror with a basin to shave in. He explained to Nick that he had lived in the area as a child, then moved away when he joined the army. He had been a young man when the Germans invaded his country. We don't know what happened when his parents died, but he travelled alone around France eventually returning to settle in the area of his childhood. The local farmer agreed to let him live in the Forest and offered him a shed in return for a few chores.
Over the next few days we swam, ate the local bread and cheeses washed down by delicious local wine. We spent days exploring the neighbouring villages, the town of Bergerac and the city of Bordeaux. One evening when we returned a storm broke out and the thunder roared whilst lightning lit up the sky over the forest. We all wondered how Monsieur Jean fared in the inclement weather. In the morning Nick took him some cheese we had bought and a bottle of wine just bottled in St. Ferme, the nearest village. We needn't have worried. He had, he told Nick, enjoyed the freshness of the air after the storm. The forest was his home. The animals were his protectors and every star in the night sky was known to him. He wanted for nothing. Nick took Paddy Jack, his 8 month old nephew to visit and Monsieur Jean posed proudly with the baby on his knee. He asked many questions about Ireland, about the mountains and the lakes and the music. He wanted to know how our family had fared during 'the troubles' of which he had been aware. He, like us, was a Celt at heart. Nick told him about the Marsh Arab people he had befriended on his last term in Iraq. One by one he met each member of our family and there were 14 of us over the two week period.
On the day we left Nick took him the last of our wine and said his goodbyes. Monsieur Jean hugged him and wiped away a tear from his eye. His shirt, which he had washed in the water from the river, was white and spotless, his hair combed and his face freshly shaven. ' Au Revoir Nick, he said, 'come back soon.' He turned and walked back into his shed where he had a little rabbit in a box in the corner. He had found it with its tiny paw caught in a snare and was nursing it back to health before returning it to the forest. Nick walked slowly back to the house. 'You know Mum,' he told me later, 'that man owned nothing but he was more content than anyone I've ever met before.'
We're back home now and the weather has been kind for the time of year. We live by the sea and at night it's quiet and peaceful but the stillness is not the same. Somehow or other we are aware that the city is just 7 miles away and the sky is never really dark. Last night as I switched off the light and lay in the half light before falling asleep I thought of Monsieur Jean and the forest. I hope that life is kind to him in his final years. Somehow or other, I know it will be.
p.s. I will post some photos of Monsieur Jean with little Paddy Jack when I download them.
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You should write books your blogs are so well written and so interesting, thanks for sharing these interesting times in your life, I have thoroughly enjoyed reading them all.
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Posted by Linda747
on 2007-09-30 15:35:31
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| Views: 126
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