Meule du Foin

This morning I saw the bundles of hay that usually are laying in the fields, stacked high in a barn of a farm that, from the sounds of bleating, raises goats. Today's journey was another cirque in this section of southwest France, past an isolated windmill, by dying sunflowers in the fields, alongside a training area for the French foreign legion, through the farm with the goats and haystacks, and finally the road entered a village with French barking dogs. This village was about 30 minutes from home brewed coffee and a cool tile floor after three hours in the morning heat.