Le Franco Phoney

I woke up a few mornings ago to discover that the green grass was covered with a blanket of white, sparkling snow. Across the road from my place, a group of friends were having a snowball fight and one wandered further away to kick snow for the dogs to play with. See? Even the dogs love the snow, although Bruno, my cat, is less than happy about it.

Anyway, what really makes it officially winter is what happened on Saturday night. We ventured up to the carpark at La Balme, which is normally empty after dark in November. That all changes when there’s fresh snow in the vast open space. We made it up the slippery, snowy road that leads to the car park and discovered another car was already there. We saw its headlights go from side to side: its driver had the same thing in mind — handbrake turns! It’s been years since I’ve been in a car skidding sideways in the snow, and I was a little apprehensive, but it was great fun. We took it in turns with the other car to slide from one end of the car park to the other, fishtailing all the way, and ending with a 180-degree slide to go back again for more.

After three circuits, four more cars arrived. Now, the car park is big, but it’s not really big enough for six cars. No worries, the delivery van (!) driver took his van to the lower, smaller car park and went crazy there, leaving five of us all trying to hog the car park’s remaining untouched snow. After many more slides, we left the others to it: it was just too crowded, and I think we both felt a bit too old in such a young crowd. It was definitely one of those great relive-a-teenage-pastime moments, but better than that, I felt really local, with the others waving to us and smiles all around. It’s rare that the carpark is completely free of cars in winter, and even rarer for so much snow to fall to cause a spray of snow over the entire car when sliding sideways. This must earmark the start of winter.

Tomorrow, I will be snowboarding down one of the closed runs and catching freshies all day. Another sure sign that it’s winter! Bring on the snow.

For the past week, I’ve had the company of a medium-sized, slightly green, patterned lizard. My French book on animals tells me it’s a Lézard des Souches (a sand lizard). Bruno the cat brought me the lizard as a gift — his third this summer. Bruno is spritely for a cat of fourteen years, capable of spotting lizards from a-far and catching them even when they drop their tail in an effort to escape him. The first lizard was the largest at around 25cm (without her tail — and yes, it was female, as the female of the species are a lovely bright green), and relatively easy to catch with the help of a cloth: dump the cloth on the lizard and it stops moving; pick up the cloth with the lizard inside and dump the lizard back outside while the cat is still hunting for the lizard indoors. Result! The second lizard was smaller and also easy to catch using this method. The third lizard, however, found the narrow gap under my fridge before I had chance to catch him.

About twice a day, I’ve been hearing the lizard scampering around under my fridge, but he never came from under there long enough for me to catch him. I was worried he might die of fright: bad for the lizard and bad for the smell of my place. I offered him food: banana (stupid when I think about it - a lizard could never peel a banana to try the contents); some sliced apple; a piece of plum; a dead fly; a white flower, and a yellow weed. He wouldn’t come out. I found myself pulling apart the cupboard mounts next to the fridge in case he was stuck and unable to get out the way he got in. Still nothing. A fly even flew down under the cupboard and survived without being eaten by the lizard. Now, if you have to live with a lizard, the least it can do is eat the flies. Disappointed with the un-lizardness of my new lizard friend, I gave up trying to help him, and accepted I had a new housemate.

Today, day seven, the lizard took the plunge into the open space and the cat pounced immediately, taking less than a second to jump from his curled-up-asleep position on the couch to the fridge area. I think the cat landed his ample girth on top of the lizard, as, by the time I pounced on the cat in much the same fashion as he had pounced on the lizard, the lizard seemed to be pinned under his belly, without harm. Good one Bruno. As I lifted the cat off him, the lizard scurried into the dead end of the bathroom. I dumped the cat outside and caught the lizard. He did what the other two lizards had done: he hissed at me with his toothless mouth, then played dead, which is handy for catching them really. I noticed his tail had already regrown about 3cm, although it lacked proper colour. I ushered the cat inside while I dumped the lizard in a rock garden. Clueless to what I had in my cloth, Bruno ran back in and sniffed around near the fridge. He still is, and that was hours ago. I suspect he will keep looking for days, poor thing.