Pissenlit

We have returned again, ready for another year of adventures in Perigord...we arrived last night at our house, exhausted from our 24-hour trip from Santa Rosa to Pont de Cause. Good friend John Virball was insane enough to volunteer to fetch us at the Toulouse airport and haul us and our bags back to La Tour de Cause.

Starving at 8:15 p.m. (20 hr 15) as we entered Cénac from the south, we were thrilled to see the Pizza Lolo wagon was still open. We stopped and ordered our favorite "Indienne" pizza so we'd have something to eat before falling into bed.

After the usual first night's sleep -- forcing ourselves to stay awake until nearly midnight, then crashing, then waking at 4 a.m., forcing ourselves to go back to sleep -- we finally arose near 8 a.m. and jumped into gear, pulling weeds, cleaning the refrigerator, opening up the guest rooms, taking down shutters, hooking up the computer, vacuuming, unpacking, mowing the "lawn" (weeds). Still found time to snap a couple of photos. The weather's gorgeous today, but neighbor Odette says rain is prévu pour demain, so we decided to spend most of our limited energy on outside work, leaving the indoor housekeeping for tomorrow.

The walnut orchards around us are full of vibrant pissenlit flowers, a name which is always a bit of a conundrum for me. The French are said to have called it "dents de lion" or "lion's teeth" because of its dentillated leaves -- hence "Dandelion" in English. But in our little Céou valley, during my first springtime here back in 2002, I tried calling it "dents de lion," thinking to impress my new neighbors with my impressive vocabulary. I received quizzical looks until finally someone suggested I probably meant pissenlit. I've seen a neighbor gather basketsful for his rabbits, the young tender leaves are lovely in salads, and each year since then I imagine I'll finally try making dandelion wine. I really mean to go out and gather the blossoms first thing in the morning when they're still damp with dew as my recipe recommends. I don't get to it, then a few more mornings slip past, and suddenly -- poof! The fields are no longer yellow but white with the downy blown blossoms. Maybe this year?

But why pissenlit? One is warned to consume dandelion leaves with moderation -- and the same with the wine. Its diuretic powers are notorious, hence its popular name, which means, literally, "piss in the bed."