Comice Agricole and wild daffodils

We still haven't shaken the cold spell quite yet, but there are signs of spring outside and the days are getting longer. It's crazy but the days seem longer here, perhaps because we're in the mountains but these days, it only gets dark around 21:00h. Another sign of spring: R thinks we may have baby birds this spring as he's spotted a small bird circling in and out of the birdhouse in our yard. 

In France, Sunday is the day devoted to spending time with your family. The entire family convenes at the grandparents' house—and the cooking starts early. Neighbor P's children and grandchildren live nearby, so he and his wife were busy preparing for their extended family.

As most stores are closed on Sundays, R and I did our grocery shopping yesterday after the walk. We went in looking for two things, but ended up zigzagging through the aisles so I could check out the meats, dairy, wine, and desserts. We left with mousse de canard, pâté of wild boar, saumon fumée, cornichons, rhum babas, and Canadian whiskey among other things.

After our petit dejeuner, R and I checked out a comice agricole in an adjoining town. Comices started as a way for farmers to exchange ideas with one another. It has the feel of a town fair but without carnival rides. Stands sold locally made sausages, reblochon cheese, and local honey. And on a large green lawn, nice old cars and tractors were displayed for the curious and car-minded. R explored the old cars, having sort of a "thing" for cars while I walked around. My nephew would have loved all the tractors and the stalls with large mooing cows and gargantuan work horses. And just for fun, there was an obstacle course for dogs and we watched a happy German Shepherd running through it. In France, the ubiquitous snack seems to be beignets or crêpes—I got mine with abricot confiture and R took his with plain sugar.




As the sun was still out, R and I drove to a nearby trail that is used for cross-country skiing during the winter. We walked for an hour or so along it, meeting fellow hikers who were all carrying bouquets of wild daffodils and one old man who was collecting dandelion greens. The trail is slightly uphill most of the way which is good for the calves, thighs, and derriere. The terrain was totally different than the terrain we saw on our walks the past three days.

Unable to find the chapel at the top of the mountain we were seeking, we headed back to the car and came upon a field of daffodils, their bright yellow color popping out against a sea of green. We stopped to pick a handful because I wanted to bring some spring color to our kitchen. And before I forget, en route home this afternoon, R showed me the most beautiful vista over a very high bridge which overlooked a canyon with a river running through it. I could feel my legs turn into jello, but I still looked down while holding onto R. The barrier is not nearly as high as I would have liked it to be. Must return with camera another day.