I was so much older then. I'm younger than that now.
Wait a minute. Reverse that.
Now, I walk. Promenade. Just a few times a week. Maybe 5 kilometers or so at a clip. I use about three different routes. They all start with a long downhill stretch. If you live within steps of the church at the top of a French village built on a hill, you don't have a choice. And that means that the return trip ends with an uphill slog. Depending on the route, a rather steep uphill slog. I suppose that's the way that it should be...end the workout with one last push.
Here are the pics. Enjoy.
|First, check out the blooming succulent on our window ledge.|
|Then down the Rue des Bichettes. The blue door on the left is to our cave (pronounced cahve), our dirt-floor cellar.|
|Still heading down hill.|
|We've hit the main road. Still down hill.|
|The local cooperative winery. Grape growers who aren't vintners bring in their harvest in September and October.|
|Just past the cooperative, the views open up. This is rural France. My trail runs along that tree line.|
|Still within the town limits, a grower of saffron.|
|And we've left town. Note the abbey's spire at the top of the village. Our house is just a few steps away.|
|The creek is called Le Quarante.|
|On the road out of town, an abandoned vineyard on one side...|
|And on the other side of the road, new vines.|
|Le Terminus is a fine local restaurant in the old, converted train station between Quarante and sister town Cruzy.|
|Suitable for weddings and bar mitzvahs. And the public walking path begins in the parking lot.|
|Bicycles and walkers only, please.|
|With gates to enforce the ban on motorized vehicles.|
|The back side of the co-op. Freshly cultivated vineyard in the foreground prepping for spring.|
|The horses weren't at the fence checking me out. Maybe next time.|
|One of two trees that came down across the path during recent storms.|
|Starting to cloud over. And there's the steeple that I came from and am headed back to.|
|I almost forget to check out the view behind me.|
|Some folks live along the trail. Cabbage garden kept going right through the winter.|
|The trail hits a local road and jogs left.|
|But I head right, back to town.|
|Not bluebonnets, but pretty...|
|Almost as though cultivated, this field will be a carpet of red poppies in just a few weeks.|
|Into town along the back of the co-op.|
|The end in sight.|