The Mistral

The mistral was blowing last week, as Joss promised it would. Have we mentioned Joss yet? She's the first friend we made and we've been so lucky to meet her - we like her immensely. She's introducing us to the village, and helping us navigate French bureaucracy, and when she gets done with that, she's going to teach us French. She is quite a find!

She sms-ed us this morning about the big antique fair in a village not too far away, and the mistral blew us down in plenty of time to find good parking - and just in time to see a line of antique-book-stalls picked up by a gust and tipped over the railing and into the quick little river below. Dozens and dozens of books, so old and so precious! Heartbreaking to see, and heartbreaking too for the vendor because the fair is expensive to join, is the biggest event of the antique year around these parts - so of course they bring all their most valuable stock. And the marquees were blowing so wildly the old cups and saucers and statues and nightgowns were flying like leaves, and before very long it was clear that it was a buyers market, this year.

It was too wild and tragic for photos, so here, instead, for your viewing pleasure -

Vineyards at Sablet