Saturday, July 26, 2014
We could all learn from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.
The day the Tour de France comes through the neighbouring departement. Naturally it rains. Not just any rain but Newfoundland rain - heavy, constant, and unrelenting. The skies so black the solar lights come on. By nine the thunder has started shaking The Rickety Old Farmhouse to its foundations. Bob and Sophie being farm dogs are completely oblivious to it. A little before ten three fire trucks rush along the lane - a modern house at the other end of the village has been hit by lightening and set on fire. At lunchtime the French teacher phones to tell us that she and her husband were asleep in bed when three roof tiles came through the ceiling .
At the cafe under the arcades the beer and absinthe set are glum. Noses pressed against the window. Outside, under the arcades, a foreigner sits reading the paper. At his feet two fluffy, croissant eating, dogs. The local paper has a full page story about a German pilgrim ( Klaus ) whose horse ( Arkan ) has careened through the streets of a local town. Life here moves at a different tempo.
Later the sun comes out, the rain evaporates and we settle down for an evening of heat and humidity. From winter in Newfoundland to summer in Louisiana all in one day. Bob and Sophie remain uniformly enthusiastic.