That wonderful time of the year when the days are getting longer and the predawn air is laden with the scent of wild roses . In the field across the lane from The Rickety Old Farmhouse the wheat is growing an inch a day. The young sparrows are up and about early. In fact they've been up and about since four arguing and flapping their wings in the gutters. They have reached that age when they can make short trips - solo. They are all making full use of this new found skill. I don't know how many baby sparrows live in our eaves but think Coney Island on Memorial Day and you're on the right track. The noise level is also Coneyesque. Sophie adds her decibel enhancement.
'The Font' is stirring and opening the shutters. In the early morning rays the 'woggly' glass in The Rickety Old Farmhouses windows glint. The uneven old glass was imported into France as ballast in ships returning from Vietnam. A local glazier would fire it up so that it could be reshaped to size. Over the years the glass has run. Age has given it a lustre quite different to modern glass.
By seven, and our second walk, the sun is up. The sparrows are still arguing. It was a national holiday on Thursday - Ascension Day. Many folks have made a long weekend of it. This morning the parking area in front of the church full of cars disgorging enthusiastic hikers.
Two vans show up. A family from Toulouse have booked the village hall. There will be ten of them - the maximum allowed by law - and are planning to have their Sunday lunch in the Salle des Fetes. The mayor reminds them they must be a metre apart, at least. ' No problem Mate' says a gentleman in a black Adidas track suit who, I presume, must be the father. This is perhaps the oddest lockdown activity I've witnessed. I'm betting there will be at least twenty of them by the time lunch is served. A flat bed truck arrives and a man starts to unload four armchairs. The mayor and Angus exchange looks.
3 comments:
You have hikers, we have bikers. There's a small parking lot that gives access to our house and the neighbors; the earliest arrivals like to park hugging our front gate. Never mind the flowers, which now have been run over many times, or the thought that the inhabitants might like to exit via their gate. They mostly come from Toulouse, even 33 plates (Bordeaux), well beyond the 100-km limit. I said something to the spandex-clad driver of 31 plates (and the rest of the parking lot was empty), and he said, "but it's in the shade here!" In that case, be my guest! Drive over the flowers! Should I bring fresh drinks? Excuse me first while I cancel my errands because I can't get out of my gate.
After nine weeks of solo lockdown, the idea of a twenty strong lunch party in the Salle des Fetes sounds appealing even to an introvert with a strong preference for socialising in very small groups!
And how interesting about the glass from Vietnam.
Cheers, Gail.
Hari OM
At first I thought, 'Vietnam?', then remembered the connection. You have given us some different aspects of your locale today and it is beautiful. Pity about the lunchers and their armchairs... YAM xx
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