Post by racaille on Jul 16, 2014 12:44:28 GMT
It is now crushingly hot (which is why I'm indoors in the cool ) but I had the best start to the day ....
Woke up just before six as the sun suddenly streamed through my bedroom window and allowed myself the luxury of a cup of tea in bed while I read the last chapter of my book (James Lees Burke - read his stuff even if you don't like 'thrillers' . The guy writes with such a lyrical touch, a complete genius. And I'm usually rather snooty about literature, my preferred reading is usually pretty pretentious like Zola or Flaubert ....)
So I went down to the nags and put their fly bonnets on and it was cool, damp underfoot and with a light mist whiskering the mountains and too good an opportunity to miss. So I was in the saddle before 8am and heading south, with flycatchers and swifts wheeling overhead but too early for the cigales. A large buzzard and a sparrowhawk spun lazily in an pool-blue sky, the moon bowing out to the rising sun.
The vineyards were lush and green as we plodded along the tractor trails between them, avoiding where possible the irrigation systems that make horse-eating noises and then launch a watery attack without warning.
Found ourselves on the top of a bluff, knotty with green oak, gazing at the hilltop chateau of Ansouis. Followed the hunters' tracks down to the vineyards below and started wondering about going up into the hills but decided I didn't have enough time. So I turned for home, greeting the many tourists who were finally getting up and out but who had already missed the best part of the day! Back by 10am and it was so very hot that even Paco didn't mind a hose down.
It was wonderful be be out, just the two of us. Forgotten what a lovely chap Paco is
Woke up just before six as the sun suddenly streamed through my bedroom window and allowed myself the luxury of a cup of tea in bed while I read the last chapter of my book (James Lees Burke - read his stuff even if you don't like 'thrillers' . The guy writes with such a lyrical touch, a complete genius. And I'm usually rather snooty about literature, my preferred reading is usually pretty pretentious like Zola or Flaubert ....)
So I went down to the nags and put their fly bonnets on and it was cool, damp underfoot and with a light mist whiskering the mountains and too good an opportunity to miss. So I was in the saddle before 8am and heading south, with flycatchers and swifts wheeling overhead but too early for the cigales. A large buzzard and a sparrowhawk spun lazily in an pool-blue sky, the moon bowing out to the rising sun.
The vineyards were lush and green as we plodded along the tractor trails between them, avoiding where possible the irrigation systems that make horse-eating noises and then launch a watery attack without warning.
Found ourselves on the top of a bluff, knotty with green oak, gazing at the hilltop chateau of Ansouis. Followed the hunters' tracks down to the vineyards below and started wondering about going up into the hills but decided I didn't have enough time. So I turned for home, greeting the many tourists who were finally getting up and out but who had already missed the best part of the day! Back by 10am and it was so very hot that even Paco didn't mind a hose down.
It was wonderful be be out, just the two of us. Forgotten what a lovely chap Paco is
for so much hard work we thank ye!!
Nah, will have the excuse of 'builders in' for years to come (even though they've all gone on hols until September, I kid you not!) ..... 
