A Picture Tour of Heurtevent

This past weekend (as previously mentioned), I attended a work retreat weekend in Normandy.  We were in a tiny hamlet called Heurtevent, in a small retreat center called Béthanie.  It took about 3 and a half hours to drive from Pontault to Heurtevent.
I was absolutely amazed at the scenery--hills and vallies and everything the greenest green you've ever seen. 

In the time I've been here in France, I think Normandy has been by far my favorite weekend destination.  Two summers ago, Stephan and I took the train to Deauville and spent the day shivering on the beach.  This past spring, I drove out to Etretat with a few friends to see that famous door cut into the cliff.  And just before autumn cooled the air, Stephan and I spent a Saturday exploring the port city of Honfleur.
I love Normandy, but had never really been in a home in Normandy.  I've always taken the train to Normandy in the morning, then taken the train back at night, dividing my time between the beaches and tiny ice cream shops that dot the roads.  I've always been the tourist...which is nice in its own way.
But this weekend, at Béthanie, we had a chance to stay in this gorgeous little home with the Longs, an English couple living in Heurtevent, bringing up chickens, cows, and a ten-month-old named Pixie.
I've added a few pictures of their home:

It was a restful weekend with a few obligatory (but not altogether bad) get-to-know-you games and plenty of walks through the hills. 
I loved all the broken down sheds that crumbled in the fields but had been left in their broken state for years and years.  The Longs said that the farmers around them are very particular about noise and traffic and caring for the pastures.  But apparently, the tumbling barns are just part of the scenery.
So after a very lovely weekend, we drove home on Halloween Sunday.  I fell asleep after about fifteen minutes in the car.  It was something of a disappointment to wake up in the Paris area again. 
But here I am, back in Pontault.  It isn't so bad to be back.  I'm here with my vanilla and gingerbread candles...and the month of November stretching before me. 
National Novel Writing Month: here I come.
And Normandy, goodbye.  It was nice to have met you.  I probably will not be back before I move back to the States in December.