The annual visit to the banks of the Aulne was as magical as ever… Wild garlic as far as the eye can see, mixed with Wood Anenomes and Bluebells. As I still have last years’ jars of lacto-fermented to use up, I didn’t need to pick much. A bag full – just enough to make a ‘pesto’ with toasted hazelnuts, goat cheese, and some for a salad.
A trip to the Mont St Michel de Brasparts. One of the summits of the Monts d’Aree. At about 380 metres it’s a pretty small ‘mountain’. But on a clear day the panoramas are impressive and the little stone box of a chapel perches on top like in a child’s drawing. Obviously it’s not the Alps. But, whereas the Alps are pert, pointy and young in geological age, the Monts d’Aree are old. Old and eroded and almost flat!
I like the windows. Strangely though, they work better for me from the outside…
And Le Gouffre at Huelgoat Forest. One of my most visited and most loved places. Here the torrent of water that I saw in January has slowed to not much more than a trickle. No matter. Still amazing.