Quessoy arboretum, afternoon.

We meet Rosie and Porridge.  The dogs are hot and panting, but pleased to see each other, and Porridge has a paddle. We go to the café afterwards for Perrier.

down the road, morning.

The barley fields have thickened into creaminess.  The young swallows, their tail forks still stubby, fill the air, and pass close between the bodies of the grazing cattle, catching flies.

Down the road, evening (Tuesday)

The strawberries Pierre planted in front of the house where the young couple now live have reverted almost to wild ones.  I pick a handful to eat as I go.

Down the road, evening.

Freed from her bucket, Mol skips along joyfully, tail awag  taking in the smells.  Swallows skim over the grassheads in the field alongside us as if giving us an escort.

Down the road, late afternoon.

Rain at last, but Mol's had a haircut, so less to dry later.

With a soft clatter, nine wood pigeons rise up out of the empty pasture over the road.

Water mill, Guettes-es-Lievres

A fish breaks the surface after an insect glancing over the water. It fails, but a robin dips and catches the insect instead,  perching on the branch to eat it.

Tredaniel plan d'eau, morning.

They are stocking the pond with trout; a flatbed truck carries large tanks, from which they scoop netfuls of fish into a plastic dustbin and pour them into the water.