High summer well and truly here. That time of the year when the village folds in on itself and absolute silence reigns . The thermometer nudged towards forty yesterday. More of the same forecast for today. Hopefully, there will be a mountain storm tonight to break the heat. Sophie is up and about early. She intends to make good use of the morning six to seven slot for a tour of the village before the tarmac gets too hot for her paws.
At this time of the morning there's deep shade and exciting scents to be found in the sunflower fields. As we head along the lane that traces the top of the ridge the post lady stops her van for a wee chat. She's on her way into the sorting office. The big news is that she's being moved to a new post office next week. I tell her we'll miss her. The new post office is a larger, sub-regional, affair and she's not looking forward to leaving her peaceful delivery route. A tractor goes by. We wave at the driver and he waves back. These are the only vehicles that pass us during our hour outside. Where would we have to be in the UK to find traffic this quiet ? Even Harris is busier than this.
We climb back up the hill through the sunflower fields. The seedlings were planted in straight rows and as the plants have grown these have formed shady canyons six feet high. Sophie likes to hurtle along these in search of heaven only knows what. Young hare and deer also love the shelter the plants offer. Sometimes I catch sight of two or three fawns wandering , in line, across the tracks ahead of us. It goes without saying that Sophie remains oblivious to their presence.
So starts a quiet morning with a lively Polish Lowland Sheepdog in deepest, deepest France profonde.