Bretagne, en famille

Brittany is behind us, bringing a smile to my lips as I think of the stories yet to share.

 The sun shone on us, despite forecasts that suggested otherwise.

The Atlantic sparkled. The hills spread out in folds of velvety green.

The Kouign-amann was plentiful. The mussels straight from the sea. 

 We took to the narrow paths to walk the coastline and beaches. All to ourselves.

We swam, surfed, rock-climbed and rambled beneath mackerel skies.

In a barn at Plonévez, we ate crêpes oozing in salty butter and watched couples dancing Breton dances to our great delight.

A fest-diez, a traditional Breton knees-up in a barn, complete with bagpipes, crêpes and cider

 

And so, we are home from Brittany, remembering our time there with both sets of parents with great fondness.

 

I hope to find myself there again sometime soon.

pastures new

Summer ended in a flurry of planning and packing for a brief sojourn back to homeland for me in Dorset (UK) in September. I returned to France in the last weekend of September, refreshed, revitalised and ready to get stuck into new projects and adventures!

Back in the valley, I was greeted by autumnal weather. Yesterday morning, I woke up in the dark, and there was frost on the roofs. As the last of the lingering tourists and curistes head back to their homes, the village is becoming quiet again.

In the Pyrenees, the autumn is always a time of ebb and flow...a season for change...a time for new adventures.

With the first sprinkling of snow up on the summits, it will soon be time to bring the animals from the high summer pasture lands back down to the fields around the valley.  We will wake up one morning soon to find all the leaves have changed.

Old things are coming to an end. New things are happening...and we're looking forward to exploring new pastures and having new adventures!

starting again

It’s been a long while since I last wrote here.

A storm-cloud blustered through, knocking all the stuffing out of me. And my last little logs ended up falling by the wayside.

The storm seems to be passing, but I am left feeling unsure, a little battered.

Despite the thunderous clouds and the lashing rain, my desire to write has remained deep inside.

I need to write, to connect once again with my surroundings, with myself.

And I need to start again.

So here we go, let's see where this little log takes me...

vallée de Campan

Am spending the week over in the Vallée de Campan, reunited with N and living in the woods together with the other barn-builders. It's just the thing I need after a busy summer and poor health - the tonic of wilderness.

early autumn in the woods

This is what early September feels like when you're living in the woods for a week - misty and chilly when we wake up. Our view is eclipsed by trees that sit on our hilltop obscuring everything a few feet above. 

We are out of the tent at 8 am, the sun breaks over the hill by 9am. By eleven, all hints of autumn will be lost again to the hot sun.

For those of us not re-building a barn, a Turkish novel, an audio book, bramble bushes and hazelnut trees await me today. Such possibilities!

big sky

   
It was a day of clarity and blue skies. 

A day spent living out in the open, beneath the big Pyrenean sky. 

A day that began early at dawn when we were woken by cows grazing about our tent and ended at dusk as I cartwheeled in the setting sun.

From its rising to its setting, I have been soaking up every beam of this inescapable, soul-stirring Summer sun.

At a moment when we desperately need healing, it is like a river of love flowing down upon this hurting land.

 

 

cowbells and parachutes

Pulled from a heavy sleep by the tinkling of cow bells. There was just time to pack up the tent and brew a quick coffee before the parapentistes arrived.

light pollution

I was in desperate need of a break from my translation project. [Nearly 12,000 words behind me, only another three thousand or so to go]. 

N came home to rescue me from my dictionaries and laptop, and brought me over the Tourmalet for a night of wild camping.  

We set up our camp on the crest of a hill, overlooking the barn in Serris. 

After dinner, we made hot chocolate and sat on the crest of the hill watching the sunlight drain from the sky, to be replaced by the lights of Bagnères and Tarbes.

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows..."

Summer is finally upon us, and the thyme is fragrant as we walk through the fields and meadows above the valley.

Wild Mountain Thyme growing around the Lac du Gaube

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, 

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, 

Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine, 

With sweet musk-roses, 

and with eglantine" 

Oberon, King of the Fairies - A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. Act 2, Scene 1

j'aime la montagne

 Parce qu'elle est là, dans mes yeux, dans ma tête.

Parce qu'elle est belle et fragile aussi ; elle nous rappelle combien nous sommes petits face à elle et combien est grande notre responsabilité à la protéger.

Près d'elle, je me simplifie.

Loin du futile, elle m'enseigne la langue de l'essentiel.