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From the 18th century

Between village and bocage, the residence of Soussilanges crosses the centuries peacefully, according to the needs and the means of its successive guests.

Some think that François Villon could have found shelter and inspiration there during one of his miserable and enthusiastic escapes. Hanging trees are legion in the region ...

But more surely, in its current ramage and this since the XVIIIth century, the building constitutes a classic example of Bourbonnaise farm with the bakehouse, the vat (XIXth century) and a barn for the cattle and the horses. Twelve to fifteen people worked in perfect autarky until the beginning of the 20th century.

The Time of the Buds

How long it is to come!

Everything is ready ; not a cut of the secateurs is missing; the birds flutter; the hellebores hold the distance at arm's length defying the white hyacinths, the flower buds point, but nothing comes ... February was magnificent, like every year and like every year, April ruins the hope of a spring where every flower could become fruit. Humility, patience and a few more preparations before the May explosion.

The senses finally collide. No more restraint slows down Mother Nature. The wait for the last few months is only prehistoric. Peonies, roses, lotuses and magnolias come into the picture ...

The waltz of flowers

How beautiful !

Swifts flutter in the midst of the multicolored clouds of butterflies… Difficult to remember the dreary winter.

The vegetable garden then focuses the attention of the gardener who does not know which plant to turn to. Despite their length, the days are always too short. An abundant exuberance invades the spirits, even if the storms as saving as they are destructive remind us to reality. And in recent years, the pangs of drought have occupied people's minds. We organize, we rationalize, we learn, we adapt, but will that be enough?

Peace in the garden

Time has suspended its flight. The Charolais have joined the stables, but squirrels and faded grasses still brighten up the sleepy countryside.

Lotus and water lilies have disappeared. The frogs have deserted the still surfaces of the pools to reach the dark and muddy abyss.

Now, only the Decorative Malus majestically bending under their frosted fruits illuminate the Garden when the pale rays manage to pierce the cold mists for a fantastic dance of death.