Morning Forage

Hottest Summer So Far!

Europe is being consumed by another canicule¹ . While this heatwave doesn’t seem as intense as the last three, no one — plants, bees, people — has the energy to fight it anymore. It’s enervating and it’s expected to last until Ferragosto.² Even weeds have given up.

Hot bees hang out on the front porch. It’s called bearding.

Astute readers recall one of two motivations for me buying a place in the mountains was to escape Nice and its tropical nights (nights where the temperature doesn’t fall below 25c/77f). So, it’s been a real pleasant surprise to look at the weather this summer and see that the temperatures here are almost exactly the same as Nice’s, only cooler at night (but not by much).

About 3 weeks ago fields were still slightly green

Astute readers might also remember that during my search I took future climate calamities into consideration, rejecting houses that sat too close to mountain rivers, avoiding areas with likely water shortages and passing up places that might be washed away by a landslide or vulnerable to wildfires. This was a long time ago — two years — so who could know that a fire sweeping down the dried out forested hills and across fields that crunch under your feet would be so easy to imagine.

That field would have been cut for hay at least once already. It’s easier to imagine it on fire than rolled up into dozens of huge round bales.

Under Red Alert, there are a limited number of hours before you need to seek protection inside, behind meter-thick stone walls and sun shutters³. Work starts early. Other than soaking ground that will be dry and cracked again within hours, there’s not much to do.

That leaves time for Morning Forage.

Sorry, we got here before you did. Go forage somewhere else.

“Foraging” suggests I’m collecting. My knowledge is not that great. Mostly, I’m just eating blackberries and observing: what’s growing where, why and when, what’s pooping in the roads and tracks and what it eats, how the chestnuts are progressing, which secret grapes, figs and plums are ready for me to eat. I’m thinking ambitious thoughts about mushroom season, hoping that one of my village connections will show me the ropes.

I theorize that the hidden fig and plum trees are part of old forgotten orchards that have been taken over by the forest since their owners died. If they were mine, I would pull the ivy and other vines off them to prolong their lives, but they aren’t and it’s a lot of work.

Made a mental note to track how long the old ladder has been leaning against that fruit tree.

The forests temper the heat somewhat, making Morning Forage pleasant. The plums are past, the figs aren’t quite ripe yet and the grapes still a ways off. I found a promising pear tree, barely standing under a cloak of ivy and fruit-heavy branches. I stopped for a neighborly chat with a farmer I know from the Mondovì market while he watered. I wanted to praise his flourishing rows of zucco⁴, with which I was quite impressed.

Instead, he wanted to talk about climate change, and how nothing was growing. How everything, from southern Italy to France and Spain to North America was on fire. “What can we do?” he asked, not expecting answer.

I shrugged and wished him a buona giornata and buon lavoro. I walked down the hill toward home, closing the windows and shutters behind me. I hope it will be enough for now.

1. Canicola, in Italian. It’s a great word and comes from the appearance of Sirius, the dog star, in Canis Major during the hottest period of summer. Romans mistook correlation for causation and that’s why we have the dog days of summer. In French the term is used more precisely — canicule is called when daytime and nighttime temperatures exceed certain degrees for a certain number of days. Six of one, half dozen of the other: It’s canicule time.

2. Ferragosto is 15 August, indicating the height of summer for Italians. Depending on how pagan you are, you might know it as a traditional post-harvest festival offering a rest day for people and animals, or Assumption Day. No matter where you fall on that continuum, you won’t get anything done in Italy for the two weeks before or after. It’s also hot as hell.

3. I’m taking a pass on the Great European AC debate due to multiple conflicts. I am 100% pro-AC — my Nice apartment is fully air conditioned, which makes me feel cool and not cranky. My mountain house is fully un-air conditioned, which makes me feel virtuous at least until summer becomes unbearable, which shouldn’t far off.

4. But not so much that he would offer me one since I have a dozen of my own. How can you identify someone who doesn’t have any friends? They are buying zucco (various forms of zucchini and squash), tomatoes and eggplants in the market.