wildflowers – Lo Vedo Life

June in the garrigue

What’s a garrigue?

I live in the garrigue of southern France. If you stand on a Mediterranean beach near the city of Narbonne and move north, you’ll pass through flat and fertile river land before arriving in my regional garrigue. It’s a rough, rocky, hilly terrain that marks the transition from flat farmland to the low mountains of the Haute Languedoc region.

The garrigue is terribly difficult to farm, but people have been trying for a few thousand years. This land is hilly, dry and rocky. It used to be covered by forests, but those were chopped down, first by the Greeks (who arrived in the 6th century B.C.) and then by the Romans, who established Narbonne in 118 B.C. They all used a lot of wood, and entire forests were wiped out during this period.

Earth Day and a full moon

A few thoughts, a few photographs

I didn’t want to let this Earth Day slide past without at least a mention, a vote of confidence, a rousing voice from the cheering section.

Here in the South of France, we’ve had some perfect weather lately: warm during the day, cooler at night, with clear, crisp, fresh air. Air so clear that we’ve had several days with great views of the distant Pyrenees, still snow-capped. Yesterday I walked with my friends Maryse and Claude, all of us harvesting some thyme to dry and cook with during the coming year.

Today I celebrated Earth Day with a nice walk in the garrigue, the scrubby foothills just uphill from my house. There are a few photographs of Mother Nature’s handiwork, along with thoughts about this planet we call home.

The Chemin in bloom

Le Chemin fleuri

It’s all about the flowers
In May, my friend Claude and I completed the second half of one section of the Chemin de Compostelle, or Camino de Santiago. The full section starts in Le-Puy-en-Velay and finishes in Conques. You can read about it here. For last year’s two posts about the first half of this section, click here and here.

I always make photographs of flowers, and in May, the flowers were abundant. Because I had so many photos, I decided to do a second post that’s all botanical. I’m also going to try doing this one in both English and French.

Song of summer

Garden Toad — A toad the size of my hand surprised me one morning when I was watering my garden.

Heard from my terrace
You know that old story about how city people can’t fall asleep in the countryside because it’s too quiet? Well, that doesn’t hold water here in the South of France. It is not quiet; all manner of things are making noise. I’m here today to talk about two of the noisemakers: cicadas and frogs.

The cicadas awaken when the sun pops over the hills and begins to warm the earth. All day long, every day through the summer, the cicadas sing their amazing song. That music can get quite loud, up to 120 decibels, enough to damage human ears at close range. The cicada—cigale in French—is among the longest-lived insects, and it is recognized as a symbol of longevity and metamorphosis.

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Huzzah for Gaia!

Lichen Garden — A miniature lichen garden at the foot of a tree in the garrigue near my house.

Mother Earth, who has been beleaguered by all manner of human assault for far too long, is staging a tiny comeback. While much of the world shelters in place, the cities have cleaner air, animals feel safer to explore this home we all share, and the skies are not full of noise and contrails. Huzzah for Gaia on this Earth Day 2020!

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This ain’t no April Fool’s Day joke

Late-night TV host Jimmy Fallon asked people to share their experiences with cabin fever, and here are a few responses.

As the saying goes, March came in like a lion, and it left like a … lion. Lots of wind, cooler temperatures, a little rain. In between, we had some lovely lamb-like days that had colorful spring wildflowers popping out all over, giving all of us a cheerful sense of hope and life and renewal.

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