Ants and storms

581

My meanderings through the French countryside are making for interesting research.
I have discovered that when the weather is stormy, which it is since last night, the ants little tiny clock do not go ping until they are safely tucked up in their beds.

Louis and I ran this morning. I ran, he cycled, along the canal and there were no little ribbons of dreaming ants. I missed them, the uneven tread as I leap over their lines whilst running.

It was a beautiful morning, dark and stormy. Strong winds blowing the huge fennel plants all over the place. We ran as far as we could until it became too high and entangling. It really is such a great way to get self esteem.

When I first got clean there was an awful expression going round the rooms: if you want self esteem, do estimable things.
It never really made sense at the time. It does now. Running and bread making both bring a great feeling of achievement. And today, Louis made the bread. It was wonderful watching him kneading it without any interruptions, no boredom, just real concentration. As I cut the dough into two I could feel all that lovely energy in the warm dough.

Meanwhile Isadora has found a trunk of wigs from the 40’s. They are fabulous. She is currently wearing one dressed in a Georgian style with a tiara and pearls would around a high bun. It is amazing how much it changes her. Last night she had one on that must have been for a pageboy. It had a really high fringe and she looked like Betty Boop! Wild, seeing one’s child so transformed.

We are in for a stormy day, yards of sheets pretending to dry under the fig trees, pine needles flying around and peacock lying in the dust waiting for their tails to grow again. There is only one female at the moment. She is going to have a great spring.