The tomb of St. Martin in Tours was rediscovered on December 14, 1860–which encouraged a revival of popular devotion to St. Martin.
Our church–named for St. Martin–was built at this time.
Jean-Luc and his son Gregor are here to complete the first tranche of work on “our” church—the cleaning out and making safe–after it had been abandoned for over 15 years.
Seems a good moment for a spring cleaning, with Spring bursting out everywhere.
The work on the overgrown trees and hedge surrounding the church is beginning to pay off.
The hawthorns or “May Trees”–carefully planted with ten meters gaps long ago–are breathing easier than they have for years.
I’m waiting for the pretty white blossoms of the hawthorn to show. Not a pleasant fragrance, as I recall from childhood, but a beautiful sight–and sure sign that the seasons have changed.
“Ne’er cast a clout ‘til May be out”–a trope oft-repeated in our household when I was growing up in the ‘fifties.
Never knew whether it meant–Don’t leave off warm winter clothes until June OR keep wrapped up until the May trees/hawthorns are blooming.
Jean-Luc and Gregor are an impressive team.
Spot Jean-Luc and Gregor high up on the scaffolding!
They carry an air of competence and savoir-faire–they what they’re doing.
It’s reassuring.
Today they are removing the bulbous excretions of plastic filling that oozed from the large cracks inside and outside the walls of the eastern side chapel as they were treated.
I’m reminded of the cake fillings my mother used to bind her sponge layers.
She’d spread the gorgeous coffee-flavored cream on the bottom sponge–thick–and press down the second layer on top.
Then run the spreading knife ’round the circumference–collecting a good dollop of the crunchy, sugary mix for a patient “sous chef” beside her to relish.
The plastic is not so tempting.
Left to dry out thoroughly it’s judged ready to be prettied up.
The chapel in question was in a perilous state and looked as though it could collapse in a trice.
Here it is in the BEFORE state:
The confessional stall on the right was set into the wall–surely a factor in the weakening it.
The men gingerly removed it.
The ground was settling there–making sense as the leaning wall–but why is still unclear.
Jean-Luc went to work–tying in the three walls and filling in the gaps.
AFTER:
The sandstone used in the 1860s to construct the church was hacked from the cliffs nearby–an inexpensive option.
The church is built on rock (appropriate!)–but with scant foundations.
A miracule it has stayed standing!
Saint Martin himself may have had a hand in it–legend has him as a worker of miracles.
Here is one of the best-preserved murals in the church. St. Martin is tied to a post in winter, giving his executioners pause by summoning Spring!
Another mural depicts him standing in the path of a tree being felled–and legend has it that the tree miraculously missed him.
Keeping his church from toppling seems small beer in comparison.
The remedial work involved removing the heavy plaster vaulted ceiling in the transept where it was pulling away from its wooden roof. Had it fallen it might have brought “all the king’s men” down with it.
A shame to lose the stunning blue ceiling in the side chapel, but an unavoidable step.
The roof is the next step–and for that we wait for more reliable weather.
Meanwhile our head cat, Beau, is supervising the works:
