Nothing at all.

With the pottery fair over the village settles down into its summer torpor. No cars disturb our early morning walk to the stream, just the sound of bull finches, larks and circling eagles. Not of course to forget the frogs that have wandered into the drainage ditches and are now noisily trying to find their way back to the village pond before the sun rises.

A ray of sunlight bursts through the gap between the hills and paints the sunflowers. One of those moments that's so aesthetically complete it whispers there's a purpose behind such beauty. I was going to say even Bob can see it, but of course Bob sees -  and understands - so much more in nature than buttoned up humans ever can.

In the fold of the land where the deep shadow lingers, three deer and a pair of hares are enjoying the last of that magic time before humans wake and seize control of the day. Bob stands tail low, nostrils twitching, eyes focused. I kneel beside him and the two of us watch our silent companions melt away into the treeline.

After breakfast the PONs are loaded up into the Skoda and driven to the little market town. Despite being the height of the tourist season it's deserted. A good enough reason for brother and sister to be allowed to wander free. A morning for reading scents and leaving scents for others to read.

Then a detour under the bridge to that magical spot where the PONs can wade into the shallow water and drink to their hearts content. Sophie absent mindedly sits down. This sudden burst of cold water on those parts that frigid water shouldn't reach creates a diva moment. It also signals that it's time to return for breakfast.

So starts a Wednesday morning. Nothing at all here to grab the headlines other than a signal that all's well with the world.