A balade as the sun goes down

An evening strole a balade not a randonnez, as the sun was dimming near the lost village of Casenove. The warm light of this bright winters day brought the browns of a mediterranean autumn to the fore. Silhouettes grew from the sandy, rocky alluvial plain on the Tet.

Dogs barked and hunters fired shotguns through the thicket, while families strolled this popular venue too and fro. Oak seered by some long forgotten fire were surrounded by rejuvenated undergrowth. Bamboo stems, slender and supple sliced through the bright green foliage. Neat rows of stark fruit trees puctuated the plain.


The Canigou became dark and mysterious across the wide Tet valley. High above the silver sliver of moon became bright in a still blue sky.

Granite boulder walls of the compounds and houses of Casenove, were now overgrown with cultivated vines.

In short bursts, I lectured my son on the development of a new persona for the new year. A persona based upon wit, imagination, fun and above all application. Crows cawed their appreciation of the message as it fell among the silent stones of deserted, forgotten Casenove.