First sign of Spring...

    We woke to a bone-chillingly cold morning. Damp. Foggy. Should have worn a hat and gloves to Mirepoix market. Didn't, regretted it, and felt sorry for the stall-holders standing there on such a freezing day, even if they were mittened, hatted and scarved up to the eyebrows.

    Not all of them were there. I suspect some woke up, checked the temperature, rolled over and went back to sleep. The moules man from Sete had gone missing (not surprising as he has to get up at 3 a.m. and be on the road by four). My favourite vegetable stall wasn't there either. But, making up for the minuses was this huge plus, a blaze of stinging yellow that stood out from all the fog-muted colours.
    The mimosa man brings his flowers from Ceret, not far from Perpignan. It would almost be worth the trip to see them growing.
    Each bouquet cost three euros, which seemed an amazingly good deal for such a huge bunch of cheerfulness.

Spring Comes Shouting In.

Everywhere you looked at the market this morning, people were brandishing big bunches of stinging yellow mimosa. The source of it all was a thin bearded man who had set up a makeshift stall at the edge of the halles. Imagine an enormous vivid yellow mound of mimosa branches and a sweet, clean scent that is the essence of spring. It was impossible to resist so I didn't.  The mimosa comes from the town of Ceret, near Perpignan. Right now, in Léran, at 7:25 p.m., it's 11 degrees. Maybe winter is over.