Three different directions and then a sunset from the almond tree.

A morning and an evening walk bracketing a mizzly day spent writing near a wood fire.
An afternoon walk at the end of a gentle, slow Sunday and wondering about the shelters built into the rocks.
Looking for Saint Julien but finding Communist bees.
Leaving myself sticky notes to make sure the boulanger does not elude me this time.

A little drama and I forgot the eggman. But preparing for a clean start with fresh sheets.

A slow day, much of it spent with the Minotaur.

Feeling whacked after a day in Carcassonne and homing in again with a mizzly walk to the source.

Thinking about my mother who would have been 95 today, and resetting myself as I watch a storm speeding in at sunset.
From a grey morning with the sounds of the chasse to the mellow stillness of the full moon, and a walk up the hill to watch the sunset in between.