ART OF THE BOOK
A Day In The Life
Friday in France:
Leaves, Cows, and Quiet Victories
November 14, 2025
I woke up in the dark this morning, the kind of quiet darkness that feels like the day is deciding whether to begin. After a quick, freezing shower, I let Penny Lane out into the back garden – her little morning ritual of sniffing the air and surveying her kingdom.
I flipped the calendar to November 14th, put the kettle on, and fed her. Three small anchors of routine feel grounding here in France.
Then we set out for our walk in the countryside. Penny was in her element, galloping freely between the fields of cows, her joy so uncomplicated and contagious – free as a bird.
As we walked, I kicked through the fallen leaves. I love the rustle they make, that soft crackling chorus under my boots. Each leaf reminds me of its own quiet journey: falling, changing color, metamorphosing each passing day. Then, just as I settle into that gentle rhythm, there’s the sudden thunder of Penny’s paws as she sprints past me – wild, alive, and fully in the moment.
We say hello to our favourite cows, greet the silence and begin our walk back through the lieu-dit of Villagrand carrying my mug of tea in my hand, warm and comforting, ready to start the day.
After three days of cleaning the house, I decided I’d earned an escape – a cycle ride into Magnac Laval for a petit cafe at La Magnachon. La Brazza, etait fermee, so Magnachon it was. I sat outside with my cartes postales and drew my little cafe as the morning unfolded around me. The day was windy, quiet and perfect for riding. From town I carried on through Le Dorat, letting the rhythm of the pedals clear my head, then wound my way home along the country lanes, past the sheep and the familiar patchwork of local farms.
Later in the afternoon, I drove to Montmorillon for a swim. The warm water felt like a small reset before heading to see my mum on the way home. Afterwards I met with the roofer who came to assess what needs to be done on the house.
And of course, nothing is ever simple. It turns out I have a hornets’ nest tucked away somewhere in the roof – along with a few leaks that need attention before the whole thing decides to cave in. Homeownership: the adventure that keeps on giving.
But today at least, held one quiet victory: after six months without it, I finally have heat again. A leak in the fuel tank had left the house cold for far too long, so hearing the radiators hum back to life felt almost celebratory- a small mercy on a grey November day.
To end the day, I am looking forward to dinner with my Aussie friends Andrew and Peter at Le Lucullus in Montmorillon. Good food, good company, and the gentle closure of a Friday – a perfect way to wrap up a day lived fully.
A Friday well lived: fresh air, small adventures, and the simple joys that make it all worthwhile.
This is the real life of an artist in residence in rural France.