les Davey de France

Alan and Pat live and work in Bordeaux. Alan is a pastor and Pat was a nurse. Now we work with UFM worldwide. Read on! (If you'd like to know what took us to Bordeaux, then start with the archives from September 2004)

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Honestly, it's the finest moment of the day

I was up in time, and 6:45 saw me lumbering out of the door of the apartment block (shall I opt for condo in future?) as the rising sun beamed down at me, evidently pleased with the effort I was making. I've got a bit of hay fever, which provokes asthma, and I woke up rattling, but a lot of that is solved simply by getting upright.

I walk to the corner of the vineyard, and that gives me a chance to observe what new plants are sprouting from the line of the fence. (We have lots of poppies in our garden, by the way) Then this morning as I turned the corner I saw the sunlight on the vines. Man, it's beautiful! And off I charge, like a rhino at the sound of the starter's gun.

For some reason I'm counting my steps again, but only to establish a rhythm, and I count in fives. It might be some subliminal music exercise I am doing with myself. I don't know. Incidentally I'm singing at the moment a piece where the piano is in 12/8 and I'm not. I have groups of two, three, four, six, whatever... Except 5. Never 5. The strange thing is that it's turn of the century comic-opera kind of stuff, think "Hiawatha's lumbago" and you won't go far wrong. Anyway it's not too difficult. You just ignore the piano, try and fit the words in somehow while appearing relaxed about it all and Voilà! Parfait, ne change rien!

So today I varied my route in a fit of daring bravery. Instead of going down the hypotenuse of the triangle formed by the vines, the main road and the side road, I took the short side first and did it clockwise. I can't think why I never did it that way before. It meant on the return leg I was running into the rising sun, most glorious, and gazing on the leaves, glittering and glistening as they fluttered in the breeze.

Oh. The porage is ready.

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