Transhumance

Ok I'm Michael and this blog and these photos, I hope, will give me personally a record of things I would otherwise forget and, who knows, might be of slight interest to my friends and family.
Anyway, it helps me take a moment to reflect on each day, easily done in France but will I find the time in England?
Living in the Pyrenees Orientales is a world away from life in Lincolnshire. That is not just because the sun shines but because nobody is in a rush and life is much simpler. The village is quiet and the summer tourism has long since finished but there are always things to do. I was awakened a few minutes ago from a bit of clearing up in the garden by a clanging cacophony. It was the unmistakable jangling of cow bells as the cattle descend from their summer pastures on slopes of the Canigou Massif. A pale sun filters down into the narrow street but there is still warmth.
This morning started with French verbs. I can't seem to interest Kath in them but intricacies of the rules of use of the French subjunctive are more appealing than a Times crossword (which I could never do anyway.) there are those who might regards this as just a little nerdy but then they are denied the pleasures of a beautiful language. I later started on Le Grand Meaulnes by Alain Fournier which I read at A level but cheated by only reading the translation. I want to see if it moves me in the same way as it did 40 years ago.
The sun is filtering more strongly through onto our neighbour's terrace where he kindly let's me capture his wi-fi. The pic de la Pena is now in silhouette but Canigou still looks wonderful with it's new white winter coat. Perhaps I'll stroll up to the street above and take tomorrow's picture...