Your Weekly Voilà: Finding Home in the Heart of France 🏡💕🇫🇷

La France profonde is a phrase that denotes a deep and profoundly French culture in the heart of the country. This is not Paris or Provence. This is quiet village life with a rural agricultural flavor. Where exactly is this place? While it's as much a concept as it is a specific location, many today use the term to describe anywhere in the French countryside. However, my French family defines le Lot, the department where we live, and the region east as the "true" la France profonde. Certainly, life here is relatively untouched by development and anchored in old farming traditions.

Here you find deep forests, wild pastures, and towering limestone cliffs. The rivers Lot and Célé meander past ancient villages pressed into the sides of valleys or balanced on top of high ridges. Vineyards seem to cling to the side of steep hills. There is a feeling of seclusion from fast-paced life despite being only a two-hour drive from the large city of Toulouse.

This is not the easiest region to get to because you'll not find large highways or fast-train lines. Thus, everyone who visits has to literally slow down. I find the meditative pace appropriate for the region given that the Camino de Santiago, the medieval pilgrim route, curves its way across the region on its way to Spain.

Everywhere you look there is a story to be told . . . including our own.

This relatively untouched part of France lies between the popular touristy places of the Dordogne and the crowded cities of the Côte d'Azur. This is also not Provence or the Loire valley, where many homes are owned by retired expats or sometimes-used country getaways for the Paris crowd. No. This has a very different down-to-earth feel. Perhaps, it is because much of the central departments of Lot, Cantal, and Aveyron is protected land for both regional parks and farms with pastures stretching from hamlet to hamlet. It's also different because the villages haven't been "prettified" for the benefit of tourists. Don't get me wrong. I love a beautiful village. But there are some that are just too "Disney-esque" for my taste. (Lacoste in Provence comes to mind.) I like to be in a setting that values everyday life and a simple way of doing things.

Tucked here in la France profonde, I found quite by accident a tiny hamlet and my soon-to-be home - Glandines.

In six days, we close on our 17th-century stone farmhouse. It's a far cry from what I imagined seven years ago when I began my search for property in France in earnest. I imagined sharing a Renaissance château with a collective group of owners. I fell in love with abbeys, manor houses, mills, and a wonderful hamlet of several stone cottages not far from here. But hard as I tried, I couldn't bring the dream to fruition.

Still, each experience, each region, each property brought me to the place I am today. It definitely has been a long journey. But a journey filled with lessons of "less is more" and "patience is a virtue." It was that last hamlet property that brought me to this secluded part of France. I was immediately taken in by both the beauty of the countryside and the peacefulness. Both provided inspiration to be creative. I need that where I live.

At first glance, you might think that this house is not worthy of time or funds. There is nothing fancy about her architecture. No turrets or beautiful windows. She was built with leftover stones from a larger barn project some 300 years ago. Big stones, little rocks, handmade bricks, you'll find it all on the exterior. Ugly cement mortar has been hurriedly applied over this last century when there was concern walls might crumble. There is no water. No sewer. But we do have an ancient electric board that screams fire hazard. The oak poutre or foundation beams are turning to dust. The largest of them must be replaced. The roof is surprisingly in fair condition. The wood structure holding it is sound. Our plan is to reuse as many of the tiles as possible. They have a beautiful aged color.

There is a lot to do and a very tight budget.

Finding a place that felt like home despite being in a foreign setting was important to us.

It has been more than 100 years since anyone has lived here. Perhaps a worker might have stayed to help with the harvest and have been provided lodging. The house has never had indoor plumbing. That most certainly must change. It is also dark inside given that the upstairs attic space was used for storing foodstuff such as chestnuts through winter.

Our plan is to put in a French door with a small balcony on the back facade with a smaller window above to allow light into what will be our bedroom. It is from this vantage point that you have the best views over the Célé valley. We want to capture them the best we can and bring more light into the spaces.

One side of the property line is delineated by this pile of rocks. Building a better stone wall is a next summer's project with my French cousin. I'm not sure how it will turn out since neither of us has ever built a wall but "rustic" will work just fine with this property and I'm confident it will be better than the current example.

There is no doubt that this small house presents a very large challenge. The one thing in our favor is that it's not that large. Over two floors we have about 100 square meters or 1,100 square feet. Plenty big enough. Although, I really wish there was a separate room or outbuilding for my art studio. Maybe a building nearby becomes available one day.

For now, I'll make most of the house my studio. A table tucked under a window for painting. Well-thought-out storage for my fabric. A comfy chair with good lighting for my needlework and spinning. A dye setup in the garden. The weaving loom is going to have to wait. We've had the last couple of years to think about just how much "home" we need to have. And while 30 square meters was not enough, I learned just how creative I can be in utilizing space to live comfortably.

Still . . . I'd love one of those nearby old stone barns for an atelier one day ;)

An enormous bay laurel tree has taken over. I'm not sure where to begin pruning or how many leaves I can dry. I had to laugh the first time I saw it because I had this bay "stick" that I nurtured in Hawaii. A recipe had to be deemed worthy before picking one of its leaves.

There is a large cellar under the house for Tim's workshop and our car. Bonus extra space is not taken for granted. Great old tractor in there now. No need since we have just a tiny garden.

There's the question of where to begin. From the top down or the bottom up? Both the roof and foundation need immediate attention. I captured this photo just as hubby, Tim, turned and saw the other side of the beam. Made the initial side facing the doorway look perfectly structural. It has to go.

Inside, there is a simple layout. The first room you walk into is the kitchen. Here you will find the large cantou or fireplace and the incredible stone sink that is big enough to bathe in. Behind the kitchen are two small rooms. Stairs lead to a large attic. Ç'est tout. That's all.

There is electricity. Seems all roads lead to this lightbulb that hangs in the fireplace. Yeah. Electricity is high on the list of "things to do."

I saw this sink and decided that's it. We're buying it. It actually is structurally a part of the house. If you look closely at its back side, you'll see a corncob stuck in the drain to keep critters out. Sink stays. Corncob goes.

Not a very good photo of the cantou or fireplace. There will be more photographs as we document the restoration. It's large, taking up almost half the length of the house on one side. It will one day be home to an old and working wood cookstove and storage for my copperware. One day.

There are a few historical elements that make the house special. We will keep the mantel - bien sûr. But I'll remove the old finish and restore the natural wood.

The stairs will move to the other side of the wall and be turned so that when you enter the upstairs, you don't bump into the wall. The wall separating the two small rooms will be removed and the french doors and balcony will be on this back wall. It will allow much-needed light and bring the view inside.

There are a few old things still tucked in the corners, including pieces of an old armoire with doors tall enough to be of use for the powder room and closet. Not sure what else I might find but repurposing is the name of the game on a tight budget. Besides, I love old things.

Surprisingly, there is a lot of room in the attic. We will create a bedroom, bath, and a second room used for my sewing and storing my online shop's inventory. I have a lot to fit so storage will be very important.

I have no idea what I will do with this door that blocked the attic from the ground floor but it is too fabulous not to become something else.

Our house, much like the region, has retained
the simple beauty of another era.

I want to become a part of this house's story. I'm not looking to change it into something it doesn't want to be. (It really does want to have indoor plumbing ;)

I want to preserve its simplicity and rustic nature. Researching the context, culture, traditions of this region helps with choices on the renovation. By visiting properties, churches, and brocantes, we have an appreciation for the local materials and methods. Both will guide us through the process.

Hand-painted Porcelain in Le Shop
Click on the photo for more details

Shop for more French finds here

While our garden is tiny . . . I'll share more on those plans in the future . . . there are plenty of places to explore just outside my door and I don't have to mow it or weedwhip.

My desire to forage will be amply fulfilled. This spring the owner and I found wild asparagus. Now - showing me the best places to find mushrooms? That's a very different matter altogether. Those locations are heavily guarded secrets.

Much like la France profonde, Glandines is not to be rushed but rather savored. Unspoiled by mass tourism and utterly charming, it's a place to fall in love with everyday life. It's where a morning mist hides the valley, where people are friendly and willing to help, and traditions are valued and passed down.

Yes, I am conscious of being a foreigner in "real" France. But I'm prepared to make the effort of learning a new culture. It's all part of the adventure of living abroad and undertaking the restoration of this stone farmhouse. The work will be hard but the reward for me is a life filled with purpose.

Besides, beneath it all there is something timeless - something worth knowing - something I can't yet put my finger on - that I think might be the real secret of this part of France.

Next week, I'll share some design ideas
of how this house might look one day.

À bientôt,

Karen 🇫🇷