OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD

Our Quissac home was nestled between the cemetery and the Catholic church, in the “old part” of Quissac, circa 17th century. There was everything we needed, from supermarkets to hardware stores. The river that runs through the town is called “Le Vidourle”, and it travels all the way to the Mediterranean. We visited it often to feed the ducks our day-old baguettes, meet some acquaintances and chat.

One elderly gentleman related to us the devastation that took place when the Vidourle repeatedly decided to overflow its banks and flood parts of the town. Cars were swept away, houses damaged, and even a woman drowned. Karl stands next to the marker for the flooding depths.

Karl doing some landscaping in the courtyard.

We had a virtual menagerie: a white cat with black spots came to visit daily, a beautiful lizzard (our Lizzy) lived under the rock seat, snails in abundance which we called "cargoes" (short for escargot), some falcons in the attic of a nearby house, clearly seen from our deck, and of course all the pigeons in the "pigeonniers" at almost every house.

Karl taking a photo of Lizzy!

This beautiful copper rooster welcomed us home every time we drove into the neighbourhood. Such an icon of France!

What kind of gifts do you think a French woman receives? Perfume, chocolate, flowers... well, I get meat. I became fast friends with the José Ruiz Butchers and received lasagna one day, then ground steak on our last day in Quissac. These men were so friendly, so genuine, I just loved going to shop there. They were definitely the best butchers in town!