.
.
.
- The Quiz... We'll meet them when we get back.
- We talk a little... a lot... passionately!
My Proust madeleine! Ferrasses: Lavender Party... Jacques Arnaud... See you in the Oubradou de la Fouant... Provenço libro... The history of lavender... Andree Blachere... Gleb Sivirine... Concrete on the Mediterranean coast... The beast of the Gevaudan... Transhumance... - Vagabondages...
- Photos from yesterday
- The Library of Passadoc
.
.
.
Claude Boyer
My mechanical Proust madeleine!
Puget-sur-Argens, 1965... Here I am on my father's Massey Harris Pony tractor.
As part of the Marschall Plan, the Canadian Pony 11 made in the United States was imported to allow farmers to abandon their horses. Its particularity is its 12 hp Continental motor. It will be one of the first large-scale tractors. There were 6 models of Pony, the Canadian 11 is the only one built in the USA. The 811, 812, 820, 820 Diesel and Vigneron were built in France under license and equipped with Simca or Peugeot engines.
I wouldn't be able to say what my father's model was.
Yesterday, at the lavender festival in Ferrasses, I had the joy of going back in time when I saw this Pony. I haven't seen one in half a century...
.
Ferrasses... Lavender Party
.
Jacques Arnaud
Descending from a powerful family, the Laugier-Arnauds, mainly composed of bankers, silk traders, and lawyers, he could have led a long life if he had been tarred by the thirst for distant discoveries and horizons.
Soon he felt narrow in his mountains and in 1805, Jacques decided to try the great adventure, that is to say to join the thousands of migrants who left old Europe by throwing themselves across the Atlantic to try the American dream.
Click... The story is on this page.
.
See you at "Ubradou de la Fouant"
André Abbe took us for a guided tour of Roquebrune-sur-Argens... Comments in Provencal !
Many Roquebrunois and Roquebrunois were present and each went from his anecdote as he visited. The walk ended at Didou's house around the glass of friendship. Thank you Dedé for this sympathic wandering in the village. Well, that's it. !
.
In the past, the Roquebrunois used to drop off their rubble at the location of the current parking lot at the bottom of the village.
One day, in the middle of the pieces of plaster, vermolue beams and other gallons, André Abbe See books... He approached and saved – among other things – a dictionary dated 1701!
Jeanne Monin… The imaginary story of an old book found in the midst of beams and malles...
He had spent his book life in the beautiful library of a large bourgeois house ... »The castle », as the people of the village called it.
We didn't open much more... We barely flipped it... Actually, we didn't read it anymore! But never, ever, would it have come to the master's idea to separate himself, or worse: to throw him away!
On the highest of the shelves, he cracked his back in the sun and stopped with dust... He was getting older... like the master who once gave his soul back to God... Unless it was the Devil.
« The castle » was sold to people of the city who modernized here, demolished there...
– A library is nice but you need a children's playroom
Farewell the beautiful woodwork... the books were given or sold on the brocades. Like the others, he walked from house to villa... We never knew what hand killed him on the pile of rubble.
Fortunately, André Abbe It's the way!
.
Provènço libro !
.
Giselle Penat-Lorde
Harvesting
O beautiful estieu, sesoun de l'aboundànci,
Quau, digo-me, to bend with you?
Sias e saras toujour lou bèn-adu,
Toujour vendrera courouna l ́esperanço
O beautiful summer, season of abundance,
Who, tell me, can complain about you?
Welcome you are and you will be,
Always, you will crown hope.
Frédéric Mistral – Translation Alain Viau.
.
The history of lavender
A beautiful story to the legend from which it would emerge.
The first sunrises awakened from their sweetness a still lethargic Provence. Birds gave thanks to this and there to the new day with melodious and joyful songs. The bees were already doing the job in an aerial ballet. The nature numbed by a quiet and peaceful night was slowly stretching.
As every day, a little fairy named Lavandula, not more than one inch tall, awakened with nature in an unchanging ritual. Smoothing of her pretty blond hair, a few drops of fresh dew to get rid of and make her skin fresh, giving back to her eyes the brilliance of a blue never seen before. A few quick fritters to clear her crystal wings, she was ready for further exploration. She had no attachment and traveled according to her desires where to let herself be carried by the winds. Evolved so high that no one could see it, Lavandula kept a strict notebook of each landscape she was flying over.
Click! the rest is on this page.
.
Philippe Natalini
Andrée Blachere
Again, tribute and honour to the many women who engaged in resistance during the Second World War. Irreplaceable liaison officers, courageously carrying out important but dangerous missions, most were young girls who did not hesitate to engage knowing the risks involved: arrest, torture, deportation and the worst, death. To illustrate this commitment, this courage, here is the testimony of Andrée Blachere, a young resistant from Bollene (Vaucluse):
« I joined the Resistance in July 1943. I was just 21 years old. I was a member of the FUJP (United Front of the Young Patriots). In October or November, an official of this organization entrusted me with a mission that remains engraved in my memory. We had to carry a suitcase containing leaflets and weapons from Valencia to Avignon. When he handed it back to me in Valencia, he said:
– At the exit from Avignon station, the Germans control the passengers, especially the men. Women, especially if you give them a lovely smile, come by more easily. But still be very careful. You'll hand over the suitcase to a man who'll be standing in front of the café, on the left, leaving the station. (Today this coffee no longer exists). He will keep in his right hand a copy of the newspaper of the time « The Little One Marseilles« .
So I'm taking the train carelessly from a 20-year-old girl. I install myself in a compartment, the precious suitcase, in the luggage net, far enough from me, in case of always possible and unforeseen control.
At the time the train started, three German soldiers, including a young and elegant officer, settled in the compartment. This one gets enterprising, all smiles. He tells me that France is a beautiful country, especially the French Riviera and invites me to spend a few days with him.
Finally we arrive at the Avignon station. I take my suitcase and prepare to face German control. A terrible anxiety holds my throat. The sweat drips down my back. I suddenly see my young officer getting ready to go out. A chance. A reflex. I stand next to him smiling. We pass, thus avoiding control.
OEgg! I'm in the square. But now I have to get rid of him... And my suitcase. I'll meet him at the train station buffet. I see the one waiting with his diary in his right hand. I put the suitcase to him with relief, he gives me his diary without a word and disappears quickly. Mission accomplished. I'm proud of it, but I'll always remember it. As for my handsome officer, no need to tell you that he's still waiting for me!
Andrée Blachere joined the Army of Shadows in 2011, she was 90 years old.
.
Gleb Sivirine
Gleb Sivirine (head of the maquis) testified:
Great day for the young people of the maquis, who made their first military parade, and at the bottom, it worked very well, much better as together and as discipline than I expected.
So, at 9 a.m., here as I said, and at 9 1/2 a.m. precise, according to the schedule, departure for Aiguines. I go down with the car, Roger, Jean-Pierre and two others, the last three in front with the F.M. barring the road to finish in Aiguines. With Roger, we prepare the material details of the ceremony, we warn people, then I return to the road, a few hundred meters from the village where I wait for my men. Two sections of 18 men, ordered one by Pierrot, the other by Dominique, that of Pierrot in shorts and blue shirt, that of Dominique, in companion style uniform. I take command of the whole and we scroll in an impeccable way singing through the village. The manoeuvre is done very well, sharp stops, handling weapons really not bad for beginners, because many did not know anything about weaponry a few weeks ago. Hail to the colors, then minute of silence in memory of our dead, minute of all the more poignant as we heard behind us the sobs of Madame Dûchatel (1)...
I take over the command, we come out of the village, and when I'm going to ask them to pick up the car, there's 1, 2 then almost everyone who asks me to go to the Halls to make the colour greeting, that is 6 km away again.
Les Salles is the best supply to us in the region and the inhabitants are really very chic (2). I'm being prayed for two minutes, then I decide we're going down there, and I'm going with my F.M. staff to prepare everything and warn the people we're coming.
Touching reception of spontaneity and kindness. When we arrive, the whole village is massed on the road, men discover or greet, women cry... After the ceremony, we are welcomed to the hotel of the village where we obviously occupy the large room in total being 44 to all of us. Very friendly parade of people coming each to bring something, that eggs, that bread, that cheese and especially wine. In total, amazing meals ending with songs from home and a cream offered by the ladies of the Salles who, to make us wait, also sing some romances. I felt that if I hadn't been careful with the distribution of the wine, the return could have been a little difficult, but everything went well and the departure parade was quite suitable.
1. The wife of Constable François Duchâtel murdered in Aups (83) on 12 June 1944.
2. In the Halls, Louis Picoche will report in particular the help of the families Anot, Bagarre, Sumian and Laugier. In Aiguines, the Malon, Sage and Perrier families.
.
Concrete on the Mediterranean coast
If our Mediterranean coastline is today full of real estate constructions of all kinds, it has not always been so. 78 years ago, concrete appeared on our shores, not because of real estate developers, but because of the German occupant.
Ainsi s’est édifié « Le mur de la Méditerranée » (en allemand : Südwall, signifiant « rempart du sud »). Il s’agissait d’un système extensif de fortifications côtières, construit par le Troisième Reich durant la Seconde Guerre mondiale ( de 1943 à août 1944) le long de la côte française de la mer Méditerranée, allant de Cerbère à Menton, et destiné à empêcher une invasion par les Alliés.
La 19e Armée allemande dont le PC était à Avignon, armait ces fortifications. Elle était organisée en 7 secteurs côtiers de défense couvrant les 864 km des côtes françaises de la Méditerranée, de la frontière espagnole jusqu’à la frontière italienne. De nombreux ouvrages composant ce Südwall sont encore aujourd’hui debout et font partie intégrante du paysage.
Voir informations complémentaires sur le site Sudwall Superforum.
.
Alain Cathala
La bête du Gévaudan.
Le 30 juin 1764, sur les rudes plateaux du haut Vivarais (au sud du Massif Central), Jeanne Boulet, une petite bergère de 14 ans, meurt victime d’une « bête féroce », selon le curé qui l’enterre. À partir de là, les agressions de jeunes bergers vont se multiplier en dépit de grandes battues.
La psychose se répand dans cette région appelée Gévaudan, qui correspond à l’actuel département de la Lozère. La mystérieuse « bête » fait parler d’elle dans les gazettes et même à la cour du roi Louis XV, à Versailles, où l’on mobilise la troupe pour lui donner la chasse. En vain. On lui attribuera au total 80 à 100 décès en trois ans.
Les rumeurs les plus fantasques vont se donner libre cours jusqu’à nos jours, avec le film Le Pacte des loups (Christophe Gans, 2001). D’aucuns imaginent une bête extraordinaire ou encore un tueur en série qui aurait dressé des chiens à cet effet.
D’après l’historien Jean-Marc Moriceau, il s’agirait en fait de trois loups de grande taille. Le premier fut abattu par François Antoine, porte-arquebuse du roi, en septembre 1765, sur le domaine de l’abbaye royale des Chazes. Le dernier fut tué le 19 juin 1767 par un enfant du pays, Jean Chastel. Après cette date, on n’eut plus à déplorer de drame.
Et l’historien de rappeler que les attaques de jeunes gardiens de troupeaux par les loups étaient relativement fréquentes dans les campagnes de l’Ancien Régime, qui comptaient encore au XVIIIe siècle une vingtaine de milliers de loups. Le Petit Chaperon rouge n’est pas seulement un conte…
Source : herodote
.
François Abbe
Transhumance
Fin juin 1984, j’avais 10 ans. Nous étions partis de Saint-Auban (Alpes Maritimes) à 900 m d’altitude pour arriver à la Colle à 1 900 m d’altitude. Il y a de la neige en été mais pas d’herbe ! Quel est l’intérêt de monter aussi haut ? Car de l’autre côté du col, sur le mont Mounier, on trouve de l’herbe tout l’été !
Il ne fait pas chaud … alors on sort les pulls… un pull tricoté par ma tante Jo… comme j’aimais les maths, elle l’avait personnalisé. La classe, non ? Un beau voyage dont je me souviens surtout à travers les photos d’André (mon papa).
On m’avait fait sécher l’école pour la transhumance. André l’a suivie une dizaine de fois. On espère que d’autres bergers prendront la relève pour que cette belle tradition perdure… (sans parler des transhumances « carte postale » où on balade des moutons dans des villages pour la photo).
Jeanne Monin … À chaque fois que je lis « transhumance », immanquablement me revient en mémoire ces paragraphes de Monsieur Daudet… un bonheur :
« Il faut vous dire qu’en Provence, c’est l’usage, quand viennent les chaleurs, d’envoyer le bétail dans les Alpes. Bêtes et gens passent cinq ou six mois là-haut, logés à la belle étoile, dans l’herbe jusqu’au ventre ; puis, au premier frisson de l’automne, on redescend au mas, et l’on revient brouter bourgeoisement les petites collines grises que parfume le romarin…
Donc hier soir les troupeaux rentraient. Depuis le matin, le portail attendait, ouvert à deux battants ; les bergeries étaient pleines de paille fraîche. D’heure en heure on se disait : « Maintenant, ils sont à Eyguières, maintenant au Paradou. » Puis, tout à coup, vers le soir, un grand cri : « Les voilà ! » et là-bas, au lointain, nous voyons le troupeau s’avancer dans une gloire de poussière.
Toute la route semble marcher avec lui… Les vieux béliers viennent d’abord, la corne en avant, l’air sauvage ; derrière eux le gros des moutons, les mères un peu lasses, leurs nourrissons dans les pattes ; – les mules à pompons rouges portant dans des paniers les agnelets d’un jour qu’elles bercent en marchant ; puis les chiens tout suants, avec des langues jusqu’à terre, et deux grands coquins de bergers tombent sur les talons comme des chapes. »
Je ne m’en lasse pas…
Document PASSADOC – Photo André Abbe
.
.
Christophe Kilou
Vins-sur-Caramy
… dans le Var.
.
Alain Cathala
Château de Baux – Saint-Jean-de-Bueges.
Ancienne seigneurie des Aubert de Gelas de Chalus, le château fut vendu et revendu… Dernier propriétaire dans les années 1970, M. Sicard, qui vendit (franc symbolique) le château au département qui le restaurera et le rétrocédera à la commune.
.
Draguignan
.
Montpellier
Les jardins du Peyrou. C’est l’arrivée de l’aqueduc Saint-Clément qui amène l’eau à la ville. Elle est puisée à 10 km, à la source du Lez, amenée par un aqueduc, passant par Montferrier-sur-Lez, Saint-Clément-de-Rivière, puis, canalisée (route de Lodeve), elle repart en aqueduc des Arceaux, à Montpellier, le bassin pour le surplus d’eau. Aujourd’hui, Montpellier est alimenté par l’eau du Rhône.
.
Guy Bouyer
Sainte-Baume, à Plan-d’Aups.
.
Claude Boyer
Tempête de ciel bleu sur Sainte-Croix et Valensole !
.
Giselle Penat-Lorde
Arles
Clic… Robes d’Arles… Fifres, tambourins et musique de Bizet !
.
.
Giselle Penat-Lorde
La Treille
Le village de Marcel Pagnol
.
.
