Frostiness in Léran

    So, it's such a gorgeous morning that, after I'd swung by the mairie, and dropped into the market (pains aux raisins all sold out. Desolé,) I wandered down to the river....

   Frost on the bushes and trees, sequins on the water...sparkle, sparkle.

  
   Nature can really outdo most Christmas decorations. Check out these leaves, each one outlined in white. Beyond, those hedges mark what was once the Duke of Mirepoix's potager. Sheep graze there now, and occasionally a donkey. Those dark shapes in the trees in the middle are mistletoe, which grows everywhere around here.

Quite early one summer morning.

 It was one of those July days that you just knew was going to be in the high thirties by lunchtime. But at about 7:30 a.m. as I walked down to the boulangerie for croissants, the sun was up and the air was cool. Here's one side of the school...

And here, where you can see that clump of trees, is the schoolyard side...

And this is how the same scene looked about 100 years ago.

A Beautiful Walk on a Beautiful Day.

    Books need to be stacked and measured so we can make or buy more shelves. Work needs doing in the garden. A deadline for a story is fast approaching. But....on this glorious, unseasonably warm day, who could stay indoors. 

    It's been 17 degrees today and we weren't the only ones tempted outside. As we started along the back road to Laroque d'Olmes we ran into friends returing from a bike ride. A few steps on, a young woman was searching for a missing white dog. A jogger went past with two black-and-white dogs loping along behind him. But as soon as we cut across the fields, we had the rumpled green and brown quilt of the countryside to ourselves. 

   What I love about the land around here is its accessibility. You can wander off tracks up steep grassy slopes to see what's on the other side, and find filigree nets of cobweb zig-zagging across your path. The only fences are the thin electric ones that keep cattle from wandering off. On the way back, we had a good view of the chateau and our stubby-towered church. Fields are plowed over, the colour of milk chocolate, or sprouting winter crops that will be plowed into the ground as fertilizer next spring. 

    One house we pass on this walk is surrounded by a high evergreen hedge with a small area carved into it to hold the post-box. Coming back through the village, Peter noticed the shadows of the plane trees. Don't they look exactly as though they're fighting each other?

A Stroll to the Lake

  Léran is a terrific village to live in and one of the things we love here is having a lake within walking distance. Maybe a kilometre away? I've never measured the distance and besides, the stroll along a country road is the kind where you're continually pausing to look at, this time of year, sunflowers and butterflies. 

   It may look real but Montbel is actually an artificial lake constructed to stop the flooding that used to wreak havoc on this area. At the end of a hot, dry summer the water level drops so you can see the stumps of the trees that once grew in this valley.

  Sand is trucked in to our local "beach". On Tuesday, around lunchtime, a family was unpacking a picnic. First items out of the hamper: a baguette and a can of foie gras. It's inspired us to roast a chicken sometime soon for our own lakeside meal. 

   What you see in the photo is only one small part of Montbel which extends further than the eye can see. The tour du lac, a trail we've taken only once, measures 16 km.

   Across the water are dark, cool forests and the peaks of the Pyrenees. Around you, trees provide a nice bit of shade on a mid-30s day. A restaurant overlooks the lake, a good spot for a cold beer if you've forgotten to bring your own.

   Power boats are forbidden so the only sound from the turquoise water is the occasional "plop" as a fisherman casts his line in the hopes of landing a fat trout.

Sunday Morning Walk

Doing the morning run to the boulangerie via the fast route takes me past the church and the old mairie. Baguette bought, I often come home along the river bank. Join me..

   Top left are some of the houses that back on the river. Built centuries ago, most are no more than 10 feet wide.

   Just over the bridge is this sign pointing to the riverside trail. "A/R" means aller-retour--a round trip.

   The path ambles along with the chateau meadow--and the chateau--on our right and the river--and a green sea of nettles on our left. 

    Léran still has a few derelict buildings around. Here's one. 

    Now we're at the small foot-bridge that brings us back to the main part of the village. Here's the footbridge itself and the green, bosky view when we look to the right.

    Five minutes from now and we can down with coffee and croissants.

La Poste

Not only do we have a boulangerie and an épicerie (little grocery store) in the village, Léran is also lucky enough to have its own post office. Meet Sylvie, who runs it. She always has a bowl of candies on the counter for her customers and also a small decoration that reflects the season. This is the first sign of Christmas that I've seen in the village. 

 

Our Local Lake

If we drive about 90 minutes, we come to the Mediterranean. If we amble a kilometre along a country road, we're here, at Lac Montbel. 

Rivers around here are notorious for their violence. (Several centuries ago, the nearby towns of Limoux and Mirepoix were completely washed away.) The river that trickles through Léran may look like a harmless, sparkly little thing on a summer day but a rainstorm transform it. In fact, its name, Le Touyre, is Occitan for "torrent."

Sometime in the 1980s, dams were built and excess water diverted into a valley forming this lake. When the water drops, you can see the stumps of trees that once grew here. No mere pond, the lake is over 500 hectares, and the Tour du Lac, the hiking trail around its perimeter, is about 16 km. Forest-lined, and with the Pyrenees on the horizon, it's a peaceful place to be. 

Sand was trucked in to create a small beach. You can bask in your bikini, swim, take a pedalo out, row a boat, or paddle a kayak. Trout fishing: you can do that too in a leisurely way. To everyone's joy, motorboats are forbidden.

The Léran Spectacle

Accent on the "tacle", the spectacle is our village's annual historical pageant held, this year, in the grounds of the chateau de Léran. Crammed with snails from the cargolade earlier that evening, we lacked the energy to take in the Saturday night son et lumière version. Instead, today, we ambled down to the show scheduled for 5 p.m.

Banked seats were set up in the shade. In front of us was the large meadow where sheep occasionally graze. Beyond it was a row of enormously tall trees and behind those, hidden by leaves at this time of year, is the chateau. 

Called "Léran-cestral" the 90 minute show was a quick whip through village history. Vignettes of peasants going about their daily sowing, laundering and threshing gave way to a Saracen attack. I think. My understanding of French went awry at this point. Anyway, a sequence featuring nubile, be-sequinned and filmily attired dancing girls. 

Highlights were the horse that galloped in towing a large blazing ball, jousting, a trio of fire-eaters, and the Black Death with the tiniest members of the cast costumed as Disney-ish rats. 

Special applause for the costumes which the village ladies spend much of the year making.