The countdown widget on my home page surprised me yesterday when it noted I have only 90 days left BF. Before France.
It was only the day before that I was whining about not being in Paris for spring.
Instead we will be at Chez Bateau for the start of autumn. That fires my imagination: Will the woods and fields smell like a heady mix of grape and woodsmoke? What bird calls will we hear in the morning? Will the owl know we are back and mark it with his own distinctive evensong?
We will wait to find out.
We will see the changes, no doubt, as our train trundles out of Austerlitz through the green Loire and down into the heart of France, stopping at the names we've come to love for the meaning they now hold: Chateau Rouge, Vierzon, Limoges, Brive. Finally, the little gare at Cahors with the amiable Gaston there to meet us.
Then the winding road up to Chez Bateau with its hairpin twists and turns and finally the small village on the hill with the tiny church and the iron cross and vineyards everywhere you look.
Yes, it will be good and welcoming and our own for two weeks. It will be worth the wait and much fun to anticipate.