Pathological Compulsion

I like to start the day with a solitary walk on the plateau above the village. In fact, I'm compelled to walk. It's the only way I can think clearly enough to write every day.  The path I take every day was cleared and marked more than 50 years ago by a  local man named François Morenas. He created a network of paths that take you on a tour of country life, highlighting the handiwork of man and nature. Each path reads like a story of life, punctuated by colored markers for hikers, bikers and walkers like me.  

This path leads through private property. The owners helped out by fencing their land in two sections so the path could continue its journey through the woods. Their horses are corralled behind the gate on the left,  and they're led across the path and through the gate on the right to graze in the pasture.

It's reassuring to know that the horses have their own space to roam around and do whatever horses do. It is even more reassuring, this being hunting season, to know that the hunters also have their space, so there won't be any bullets zinging over my head or ricocheting off trees that I'm looking at...like these.

There's a tree, left, that grew up on one side of the path and then crossed over to reach for the sky. I can relate to that--I grew up on one side of the Atlantic and am reaching for the sky over France.  There's another tree, right, that decided to straddle the path and enjoy both sides. It reminds me of a French term...jambes dans l'air... which alludes to an agreeable lady mightily enjoying herself. 

Here's a very human tree -- with a belly button. Could use a loofah.

The sheep have their side of the path today, surrounded by an electric fence put up by their shepherd, a young man from a neighboring village.

Stone critters are allowed to hang out on the path.

This is a borie, an ancient shepherd's hut, a dry-stone construction that uses no mortar. They've been around this area for eons, and the farmers respect and plant around them. This borie is the most famous.

Here's the lavender sleeping in off-season peace.

Beau was raised to hunt, and today he seems to be on the trail of something or someone...

...and he found them: a group of local hunters. The one in the orange cap is Pierre Roux, the Best Wild Boar Hunter. He can make the noise of any animal you can name; he can use a dowsing stick to find water; and he can cure aches and pains with the heat of his hands. But no luck today for hunting. 

I had to stop -- I was compelled -- to shoot these glorious golden cherry trees. 

My passenger waited patiently for me. He may not know that pathological can mean therapeutic and even cathartic, but he knows paths and how to appreciate them.