A tale of two Martins
Provence The canicule broke yesterday, heralding the end of high summer. Wild figs and mulberries litter the path, filling the air with their scent which, combined with lavender, rosemary and thyme, is the smell of Provence. Even though we’ve had more rain than previous years and fewer weeks of extreme heat, we’re relieved – especially those of us with no pool in which to cool off. When the temperature rises above 35°C, actions become clumsy and the mind dulls. Even here in the relative chill of the cave, with the shutters and windows closed, it can be insufferable. Small chores become mammoth tasks, work piles up and the fridge sits
