The Best Is Yet to Be

Reading in this place always makes me feel like a hobbit.

Série que les fleurs de mon jardin sont belles. 13 octobre 2024. Agapanthe blanche. Dayoud .

Série que la Nature est belle La cigogne du Puy du Fou avril 2024 Dayoud

Série que les fleurs sont belles. Nénuphar à la bambouseraie d'Anduze. Dayoud 22 août 2024.

Série que mes fleurs sont belles. 30/07/2024.Dayoud.

Pandolf's interests include watching the sunset while thinking about life

I went to the local donkey contest (finally!) and I got to meet the world's tiniest donkey 😭 She is 10 days-old and simply too small for words.

As a black cat Morille looks great in autumn, but summer is really Mascarille's time to shine.

Mediterranean Tree Frog (𝐻𝑦𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠), male, family Hylidae, southern France

photograph by Raphaël Grellety

Once again it rained all day and the sun only appeared in the early evening... At least this unusual June weather gives the pasture a wonderful rainy-flowery smell. ♡ I hadn't socialised with my animals all day so I ended up walking around with my glass of apéritif saying hello to various creatures. The hens were busy hunting evening insects (can you spot the hen in one of the pics?), frogs kept grumpily jumping out of my way in the wet grass, and I interrupted the cats in the middle of a conversation. Only my loyal donkey looked pleased to see me and followed me around devotedly (I had rosemary breadsticks in my pocket)

We felt a bit stalked during this walk—it was beautifully sunny on the plateau but we could see & hear rain showers in distant valleys getting closer and closer...

Série que mes fleurs sont belles. Mon hortensia ce matin le 4 Juin 2024.

I went to see the transhumance last week and it was an experience! I've lived here for five years and I'd never been to this event despite it being advertised in the library & town hall every year because I thought, it's just cows crossing a town on their way to their summer pastures, it's not that interesting—but I didn't realise that people turned it into a whole party, as people tend to do. When I arrived in town I found that a nearby field had been (temporarily) turned into a car park to accommodate the many, many visitors who came to see the spectacle—and I was like, maybe I've been missing out on something.

The town was festooned with tassels and garlands (some of the cows were also festooned, with big pompons on their horns) (festoon is a really great English word.) When I arrived there was a thriving little market with several cheese stands, because of course people would take this opportunity to sell their cheeses. They also sold bread, fruit, and cow milk-based desserts including ice-cream, so you were covered if you wanted lunch. (Unless you're lactose intolerant. I'm sorry.)

There were also folk dancers, and a contest going on where you had to guess the weight of an absolutely massive bull (see above). (My guess was way off, he weighed 1 200 kg!) There was a stand with a guy selling beautiful, framed photos of his cows. In one photo a cow was whispering something in her friend's ear. Nearby some prize cows were waiting to be paraded around and one of them was wearing a halter with a little heart <3

(I was invited for apéritif at a neighbour's house a few months ago, he's a retired farmer and he had old Kodak photos of his cows from the 1980s and 90s all over his house. He remembered their names and personalities.)

There was also a stand selling a dizzying variety of cow bells, and I've been resisting the temptation to buy a cow bell for five years now because, well, it's such a cliché tourist thing to buy, but I will probably end up buying one someday. It's hard to resist their allure. I'm not sure which of my animals will have to deal with the humiliation of wearing a bell for a few hours and being photographed cosplaying as a cow against his will.

(Definitely Pirlouit.)

I was buying an ice-cream and asking the vendor if the cows were fashionably late when finally, the herds started arriving. One herd would cross the town, with onlookers clapping and cheering (including from their balconies), then people went back to buying cheese and watching the dancers or the brass band, and commenting on the prize cows strutting on the plaza, then another herd would arrive half an hour later and children would run ahead to warn everyone "They're coming!" (kids love being sentinels) and people would eagerly gather again to clap and cheer as they walked past, and it went on like this all day. You'd think you might get tired of eating ice-cream and clapping for cows but no, people were still enthusiastic when the last herd came.

Imagine being a local cow, and every year when your owners take you to your summer pastures in the mountain you cross a town where people are eating cow milk ice-cream and clapping for you gratefully as you walk past, and buying cow merch (like bells) and admiring an exhibit of framed photos of you and your friends, and watching cow supermodels walking the catwalk on the plaza, and just as you think you've reached maximum levels of appreciation you reach the entrance of town and there's a lifesized statue in your honour in the middle of the roundabout. These cows must have such solid self-esteem.

La belle bleue…