Rameaux

The change of hour knocked me back a bit and I woke up to a beautiful mid-morning already feeling the loss of a beautiful early morning.
Our street is the last on the north edge of town and beyond our narrow garden there's the Breizh - a water meadow, the river and the hills.  
The result of this lay out is an acoustic phenomenon which richochets the cathedral bells away from the town and up into the hills.
Which, for me, is where the cathedral is.
I hopped on my bike to make up for lost time.  Eliana was standing solidly in front of the tabac with a bundle of olive branches in her arms, complaining to an old man that she'd not get into mass because she'd forgotten her mask.  The old man provided her with one and I slipped by unseen. 
As I left the tabac the bells started ringing, Piotto opened the chicken roaster in front of his shop, releasing a sunday lunch plume of steam which hit the underside of the couverts and up into a perfect blue sky, where a sea gull (where did that come from?) swooped beneath the rooves of la rue Delcassé.  
It was a rather beautiful conjunction of smell, light and sound, but I still had to get up into the hills.
When I got home Josette was waving a branch of laurel leaves at me, saying that Père David had blessed them twice.  She stuck them on to our door for protection.  I kind of need it at the moment, so didn't object.