Welcome to Kerolivier
Set among rolling hills, woods, rivers, lakes and big, big granite stones in the land of Breton Celtes there is an old farmstead.
My husband Paul and I went looking for an abandoned farm for sale in the early dawn of the new millennium. It became our life’s adventure to restore magic to derelict buildings, plant young trees, create gardens, rekindle bygone ways of life and find new purpose. In 25 years much and very little has changed within the confines of this land. We have shaped the place and the place in turn has shaped us.
And this is the story …
Once upon a time, two young people full of zeal for a better world decided to buy a patch of land on which they might live, produce what little they needed and aim to make their living without (or with less) dependence on commercial consumerism. This had become à la vogue again as the world was still heading full throttle in the wrong direction.
As they were sensible youngsters, they accepted certain inconveniences that would have to be suffered to make the transition to the life of their dreams work out for the better in the long run. Most importantly they accepted they would have to live apart, one earning their income in a place where good income could be earned, the other getting on with creating the home where they eventually both hoped to live together, happily ever after.
Years turned into a decade, some progress was made here and there, an apple orchard was planted and children arrived. This did not make the logistics of living in separate countries any easier but they were a committed couple and solutions could always be found when the need arose. Around Easter time, in their tenth year of reckoning it was decided that a former lake should be restored on the property.
The couple got in a scrap with the authorities and the whole thing ended badly. The husband foolishly drowned leaving behind a young family and a dream on the verge of a rude awakening.
Instead, within a short time the young mother made a big decision. In a state of great naivety and courage, she faced her demons and set to making her own plans. With next to no practical notion of how renovations or sustainable farming could be managed on site or at a distance, without even understanding the French language too well, she took charge of 38 wild hectares, their herd of Highland cattle, two ponies, a shepherd dog and a building site in central Brittany, while carrying on working full time in London and being mother to their two orphaned girls of 4 and 6. She calculated that all being well, work would advance enough within the next three years that her young family could conceivably get established there.
And so it was that the little family left Grandmother, home and country behind a few years later heading for a new uncertain future in central Brittany in the summer of 2014. A caravan awaited them because, of course, their house was far from ready. The next phase of their adventure had begun. Being a careful individual, of course this young widow reflected on the best and most productive means of employing the sales proceeds of their house in Britain. As a result, she was able to welcome gite visitors into the newly renovated longère two summers later which has been a reliable earner for the family’s piggy bank ever since, all the while introducing an ongoing stream of high- and like minded people into our lives.
It is not luxury that attracts them to here but simple, natural living. They feel charmed by the hens that, ever hopeful, park themselves outside their front door, encouraged by tasty hand-outs.
Like me they appreciate the incessant birdsong from early spring to late summer. Many join us for coffee to exchange stories, others prefer to keep themselves to themselves enjoying nature’s little spectacles their own way.
All the while peace is at an ever greater premium beyond these parts.
By now the kids have grown up and flown the nest. My work has changed and changes daily. I see life in very different terms compared to when we first came here. Slowly, gently, sensitively and with the unexpected help of other people, this place has, over time, become a little kinder towards us, offering glimpses of fundamental truth.
People used to ask me in the early days: « …and what are you farming here,? What have you got to sell? » and I would answer apologetically that I just kept a few cows but was thinking of adding this or that. Nowadays, my mission is much clearer and I no longer feel any embarrassment at all in the apparent lack of conventional productivity on this farm. I have finally understood what being here is really about. In this age of valuing achievement, I’m not here to strive for the exceptional. I am just here to value the beauty in the ordinary and every day and to share it with others. For that my door is always open and coffee (or tea) on tap.
Our highland cow herd has moved on but the dream is well alive. It has morphed, as circumstances changed and wisdom grew. Who can tell what’s around the next corner, so ever onwards to pastures new…
