House

Property Description

A quarter of an hour from Vic-Fezensac, the road stretches between the fields.
It seems like it never ends. A real country lane, dusty, which winds and climbs before coming out to the house.
She suddenly appears, sitting on her hill like a retired movie star.
We think she must have seen it, quiet summers and barbecues that go on forever.

Two horses and a donkey welcome you without making any fuss. The kind of animals that have understood everything about life.
Here, it's calm, the real thing. Not that of tourist brochures. The calm that smells — the smell of hot hay and the sun on the stone.

The garden, a little bohemian, is overflowing with unpretentious bushes and trees. Nothing aligned, all alive.
The house, on the other hand, does not seek to please. She pleases, that's all.
A real stone house, camped on the ridge, with a view that runs all the way to the Pyrenees.
Ivy climbs on the façade.
Its roofs on different levels give it an air of the South, a little Gascony, a little Provence, like a woman with several accents.
You feel good right away. Without thinking.

In front of it, the swimming pool. Blue, like the sky.
She has this chic of useless but essential things.
We imagine the fresh rosé, the laughter of a friend we haven't seen for ten years, the time that stops for a nap.

We enter through the living room.
Beams, blond wood, travertine. Nothing more, nothing less.
It's chic without meaning to.
The open kitchen is recent, efficient, without claptraps.
Half-timbering draws spaces with the restraint that should be taught in architecture schools.
And then, two chimneys. One for evenings where we talk too much, the other for those where we are silent.

The staircase goes upstairs. A beautiful staircase, made for people who are no longer twenty years old but who still go up.
Up there, the framework flexes its muscles.
The first bedroom catches the light through its large windows.
The other is more modest, but she has a heart. It overlooks the bathroom and the landing, a quiet corner to dream in peace.

But that's not all.
A bedroom on the ground floor is currently used as a storage room, but it will be welcome after a good lick of paint.

And then there's this large apartment in the extension of the house.
He waits, quietly, for us to take care of him. The volumes are there, water and electricity. It's just waiting to be woken up — a little work and it'll come back to life.
It could be made into an independent wing, a place for guests or for passing children. A gîte, perhaps, if you want to play the charming host in the summer.
In short, a space in reserve, like one more promise.

Everything here tells of a sweet life, a little old-fashioned, but terribly enviable.
A house that has nothing to prove, and that knows very well that we will end up wanting to stay there.