A Town Called Hedgehog

Yesterday was another weekend. We like to have our weekends during the week, when there are fewer other people out and about doing weekendy things. And we like to have them more than once a week. Because we can.

This has been a busy week. We’ve got next winter’s hay in. Simon has sorted another blocked septic tank problem (for our friend Sue, whose sick hubby is in hospital), and mowed acres of very nettley land. I have mowed the rocks and pieces of wood that lurk in the very long weeds that grow in the ‘paths’ in the vegetable patch, and the dogs’ playground, and washed all the bedding. All in 30 degrees plus. So we decided to spend yesterday morning being tourists.

We went out early, before the sun was too, too hot, and drove to Herisson. Herisson is French for hedgehog. The town is a small and very pretty collection of old medieval buildings with impossible roofs. It has a ruined castle on its hilltop, and it sits in big sweeping loop of the Aumance river (whose source is just up the road from our house, and into which the stream on our land – and the filtered effluent from our septic tank – romantically flows).

We parked in the shade of the big trees next to the river and wandered about a bit. And this is what we saw….

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