By day two we had discovered the forgotten stash of salt we always keep in the barn and were able to thaw our way out of the drive but by then it was snowing, a rare treat indeed in the Vendée. The kids were thrilled and either despite of or because of the weather, headed into the woods. If you ever worry about your children having too much electrical time, head to rural France where the childish delights of making camps, fishing off the bridge and swinging in old tyres hung from a branch remain an irresistible lure even stronger than Minecraft! And resigned to another day of non-achieving, us grown-ups decided simply to enjoy the moment.
By day three the snow had gone and blue skies and freezing sunshine had returned but the pace for the rest of the week had been set at gentle plod. It was clear there wasn’t much we could do in terms of moving things on and even the builders had thrown in the towel for the time being. So there was nothing else for it other than to content ourselves with making lists of what we’d need to do and bring in April and preparing ourselves for what is going to be hard graft when we next visit in a few weeks’ time.
In the end, it’s not so bad to have to sit on the terrace in the February sun reading a book or watching the amazing swallows in their airborne dance. Or catching sight of a green woodpecker, a coypu or a hovering bird of prey. We first saw Le Moulin at this time of year and I remember our estate agent saying that if you loved it in the cold of February, you would love it all year. And notwithstanding the ice, mud and chaos, we do love it and it still has much to enchant us with, even in winter. It’s so very different to what it’s like in the summer, but it’s also a bit like falling in love all over again.