The aperitif.  

Ours begins each day between the church bells chiming 5pm and the neighbour’s rooster crowing at 5.30pm. 

The sun starts to turn golden and it's warm on my skin as we sit up on the front deck overlooking our neighbours barn.  They have a cat with no tail, which I mistook for a bunny at first glance.

Sometimes our neighbour will wander around his yard, hands in pockets, looking at his wood pile while we slowly sip and spy.  He examines it very closely while his other ginger cat follows closely behind.

Above us, the planes make tic tac toe patterns in the sky.  Why do they do that here and not in Australia?  A question I always think about when in France, but forget as soon as I leave.

The church bells chime 6.30pm.  

Dinner time!