A French Break

I'm off to France today, back to our goathouse in the eastern Pyrenees. My last visit was a whirlwind week, churning a cough, moving furniture, and finishing my Haldane bio. This time around should be more playful, watching the butterflies emerge; walking the hills in search of native peonies, orchids and dwarf iris; waiting for the lamergeyer to soar above the valley; listening to nightingale song in the evenings.

The place has seen some serious bouts of writing, but it works most happily when I just let some unsuspected piece stir in me. Lighter writing projects reveal themselves in that way. I've a mind to let a poem or two flow. Maybe my partner James will spin out another piece to add to his own poetry sequence notes from a mountain village. And we'll hunt down some new vivid red surprise from our current favourite wine district of Tautavel to accompany the Easter Sunday lunch.

I'll aim to post a bulletin or two, as freedom and a feeble internet connection allows.