Eighty-one degrees, or about 27 C, as I write this. Sunshine and brilliant blue skies. Last weekend, the vide grenier, which I’d eagerly awaited, was cancelled because of heavy rain and thunderstorms. Instead, I sat in Julie’s bedroom–where she’s confined with a back injury–listening to loud claps of thunder and watching the trees and shrubs shake in the wind. Another friend of Julie’s had arrived and we improvised a picnic. Salads and a roast ordered from the butcher up the street, a polenta that I made with chevre bought at the Saturday market in Gignac. We drank rosé and, after the thunder died down, listened to the drift of piano music. A young neighbor practicing, Julie said.
This morning, I took my straw shopping basket up to the small Thursday market. It’s very small –fish, vegetables, a charcuterie — the vendors all clustered in the shade. By 10:30, the fish was mostly gone, the sweet smell of melon hung in the air.
I’m beginning to appreciate the thick plaster walls of my apartment. Yesterday, engrossed in my work, I suddenly felt chilled and stopped to make a cup of tea. Outside my window though, people strolled by in summer clothes through bright patches of sunlight. The day’s heat never really penetrated the walls. Although it works very well now, I wonder how it will be in the colder months. Julie assures me that the heater will be working well by then.
So, exactly two weeks into this new phase of my French adventure but it seems so much longer. Montpeyroux feels comfortable to me, the smallness of village life. This Friday, le passage de la Transhumance. Sheep will be herded from the warm lowlands to cooler elevations. They will pass directly by my window. Notices are posted all over the village. It is to be something of a celebration. Wine will be served at the mairie.
I continue to enjoy my adventure.