6.Pyrenean Journal, Some Place, Feb. 22nd

Two booted eagles, with seagull like cries and chatterings pass down over the roofs of the village, coming in from the mountains, followed by two complaining crows. Later on they are higher up, hovering almost motionless, silent, wing edges blurry and fingered, so high up they are difficult to discern, against the azure light, but I can see their pale legs, dangling, angled forwards.

"In the garden again, Alees," says Emile, peering through the hedge, put there to hinder the peepshow.
"Yes, Emile, I'm making a garden that's a bit different, with enclosed compartments to bluff the wind and lots of climbers around them. A wild flower meadow, too, down there, nearer the well".
"Hmphhh, there will be plenty of wild flowers out there, soon". He indicates up the hill towards the early orchid prairies. He has a point, of course, but has missed my stealthy mention of enclosures. I didn't have the heart to include the words: 'more privacy'. I'm not deterred, however, not yet. The welcome sunshine and drying soil are too great a temptation. I grin at him, turn my back and get on with my labour. Did he smile too, before I turned?
Labels: February 22nd. Eagles and sunshine