Saturday, September 12, 2015
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
The fields are coated with a veneer of mist. Half an inch at most, thicker in the folds and valleys. Autumns first outlier. By the time we've made it along the ridge and out of the village the rising sun has burnt it away. Let off their leads Bob and Sophie hurtle across the fields. Sophie keeping pace with her brother. He runs in silence. She howls as she goes. The season of mists, mellow fruitfulness and enthusiastic PONs.
In the afternoon a storm brews up. The sand storm that's been sweeping across the Sahara fighting with the cool on the mountain peaks. By four the air is heavy with humidity. The frogs and cicadas love it. PONs and humans seek the cool of the house. Big brother sleeps under the hall desk. Sister under the sideboard.When life is a 24/7 fast lane adventure you're allowed the occasional nap. You're also allowed to snore.
Just one of those quiet days in deepest, deepest France profonde.