Polfages to Mirepoix and lessons in life

Curfew meant we stayed the night at Polfages  and woke up late in a room that was meant for holidays. 
After breakfast Bernie Sanders, mu and I took the path down the hill,  swung up to the ridge and back down to the bee hive wood. Carmen and her boy followed us. We hit the lane and they were still there, solid dog rocks. There was the odd car that passed and i picked up BS  while Mu rolled the other two into the ditch.
I avoided potential carnage by urging Bernie past fields of new born lambs, in which Mu said she'd be happy to die because that was how she imagined heaven.  
She told me that she had always pictured a day as a short track of lane between the windmill and the Ridge with 11 am being in the shade of
 the mill, the afternoon being the sunlit road as it rose and the afternoon as it sank beneath the shadows of the trees.
I want to hug her when she says things like that because that is all I want to hear as a Ma.

Carmen, her boy, Mu, BS and I got up, over those hills and back down to the mill in three hours with 16 km in our legs. 

Photo of a painting by Jean Sabatier.