The old shepherds hut in the sunflower field has been abandoned for at least sixty years. A dank and malodorous place. Home to voles and large spiders and who knows what else. It is made all the more dank and malodorous by Bobs insistence on copiously christening each of the huts corners, in turn, every morning. While Bob christens, Sophie chases lizards in the sunflowers.
The stream is shrinking. The crystal clear water now becoming a taupe coloured sludge. Bob and Sophie slurp it up as if it's going out of fashion.
Fields carpeted in buttercups. Darting dragonflies in the reed beds. Wild orchards slowly turning to seed. There is something other worldly about this remote part of France profonde. This morning there are foxes about. Adolescents arrogantly walking along the old Roman road as if they owned it. The irrepressible duo , ever ready for the chase, are kept on their harnesses.