Outside my door is rarely flat, we live at the base of the Saint Baume mountains. A much loved path is up one of the many hills that has a chapel at the top, along the way are the stations of the cross.
Natural springs are plentiful, as are stone arched bridges covered in ivy. Enchanting for mountain bikers, hikers, hunters and those who search for fairies.
The shepherds and their flock are down from the Alps, they will stay in Provence until mid June, then head back up to the cooler weather.
Driving along the road back home I was greeted with a flock of sheep. Like a parade they came with their bells ringing, taking over the entire road leaving me little choice but to pull over and admire them.
Their master, a Shepherd for over thirty years, told me he was bringing his sheep down (on foot like most French herders do between seasons of Autumn/Winter, Spring/Summer) from the French Alps, and that he would stay in the area until June 15th. Then when the heat of the Provence becomes too hot to bear he will lead his sheep back into the French Alps.
The winter sun warmed my back as the Shepherd and I watched the sheep enjoy their constant meal. Wherever I was going took a back seat. It was if this moment was meant to be... meant as a reminder to enjoy the gift at hand.