The weather always seems to change, right on cue, as August comes to an end. It's like a switch. And even though the thermometer will hit the high 80s again today, it's somehow a different heat - a less fierce, cooler heat! In England I would now be looking at my garden and noticing subtle changes in leaves, and seeds bulging from flowers gone over but, from now on, I'll forever associate the beginning of Autumn with the end of the sunflower season in France. All around are fields and fields of sunflowers - or, at least, the blackened, shrivelled husks of a former summer splendour - all with their heads hung low as if in sadness at the loss of their looks. And now the farmers are moving in to chop off their heads. It's a hard life. See you next year, you beauties ..
Ps: Right on cue, the farmer cut down the flowers in the field right next to our gîte. The flowers seem to be bowing in submission. I'm reading too much into this. More gin, vicar?
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