and feels like two because of the Mistral. I love that wind - but it blew me back before I'd gotten half way to Seguret today, and I think it looks set to stick around. It still surprises me after all this time - the fierceness of it, and the unexpected shifts and swings in direction. Joss warned me that it was no day for walking - but what's a little bit of wind? I thought.
Live and learn...
(Just after I moaned about it here, I received this delicious little note: enfin tu as connu le mistral sous son vrai jour! tu es maintenant une vraie provencale!!! So now my undignified retreat down the hardscrabble track through the vineyards seems quite poetic. Why does everything always sound so much better in French?)
It's cold and bleak and there's none of le glanage or grapillage any more. The earth is resting.
Heart you, France.