The heat of the past week has gone. Replaced by cloudy skies and a gentle breeze. Late summer has segued into early autumn. Although it's seven am on a Sunday morning the local stonemason is sitting on the war memorial steps. He's working on the stone cross that was broken off the tombstone in last weeks accident or act of vandalism. In a French village the churchyard is sacrosanct.
The cooler weather has brought out a motorcycle club. 30 of them congregate on the village green. They are all wearing helmets, apart from one man who seems to be some sort of organizer. Helmets are probably even better than masks as a Covid prophylactic.
Down in the valley the swallows are out in force. Hundreds of them. They dart backwards and forwards around Sophie. Swallows and House Martins used to do this to prior generations of PONs in Scotland. This is truly an amazing (and amusing) example of cross species communication. When they get tired the swallows sit on the telegraph wires while contentedly looking down at their furry playmate. All is well with the world.