Springtime at Chalet Brio

A couple of weeks ago we returned from two amazing weeks staying at my aunt and uncle's chalet in the mountains in France. Here's a little poem I wrote about it...

Listen.

A stream trips over rocks as it follows its course downwards,

downwards from icy peaks to its valley cradle.

The forest is alive with the sounds of winged creatures – drilling and calling, soaring and seeking.

Distant bells sound from around the necks of cows, their craggy hulks weighted and framed against green slopes.

A child laughs, a swing creaks, a car roars, a lamb bleats,

a hammer pounds against nail,

then all is silent again.

Smell.

The secrets from the wood, curling into the dusky air.

Smoke, mingling with the earth’s scent, damp after a downpour.

The beefy, dungy, grassy smell that hangs itself stubbornly from mountain top to toe.

Wafts of culinary magic escaping from beneath a lid and tiptoeing down the stairs.

Smell the coffee brewing and the wet grass stewing in the evening rain.

Taste.

The green slice and crunch of teeth cutting through fresh market lettuce.

The creamy decadence of comté cheese and the know-you-shouldn’t-but-just-can’t-resist-spreading-it-thicker butter, pale as ivory.

The tenderness of lamb, tang of apples, sweetness of pears,

The lightness of the baguette beneath its hard, crispy shell

And the wine that slips gracefully, gratefully down.

Feel.

Put your hand against the sun-mellowed, rain-brushed wood of the chalet.

Turn your face to the expanding light that seeps over the mountain tops and slowly floods the garden, holding you in its brisk, bright clutches as a new day dawns.

Look.

The ark of a parapente appears, a bright scrap of fabric curved against the blue sky.

The breeze carries delicate white hands of dandelion clocks, tick-tocking down the peaceful hours.

Carry walking up the slope into L’Etelley, past the carpet of yellow dandelions and buttercups spread in thick clumps,

Past the tiny chapel, locked and frozen,

Keep walking, keep walking and here, Chalet Brio appears, a slice of paradise carved into the mountainside.