The spring was mild and wet, the orchard exploded in colours and promises of fruits. And then a bite of frost here and there, and everything turned: not a cherry in sight this year, only a few apples on one of the apple trees, the almonds are riddled with worms, where are the Sharon fruits? Some fruit trees have died, the plum trees have held up, the pear trees are bearing fruit but the bad wind is shaking them so. The swollen grapes have dried up in the first heat of summer, the strawberries are struggling, the onions are soft.

On the other hand, it is a jungle everywhere and the insects are kings. We’ve never seen so many flowers and butterflies in such profusion. The few potatoes forgotten last year gave us a good crop. The nashi tree also surprised us with so many good crunchy fruits…

Noëlle has gone to a retirement home not far from here and she is doing well there. I’m going to see her soon with Raymonde. For Mickie it’s complicated. The moments of absence and confusion are more and more frequent leaving her distraught and unhappy. Sometimes angry. She who was unbeatable at scrabble by far…Catherine came to lunch last week to see her and they talked about the things they both love so much, so all was fine then…well, almost.

But she walks. With her sticks she covers between 2 and 4 km every day. She tells me she wants to enjoy every moment. I don’t have that in Paris….she says sweeping her arms in the direction of the hills and the valleys all around. She wants to fill all her senses because she knows she won’t be coming back to us next year.

Good year for hay, bad year for everything else. Folklore. No need for a mobile app, they know how to read the weather, those old ones who are still here in our countryside. Hay, there is a lot of it this year. The weather has been favourable and we have plenty. But prices have doubled and the price of grain is rising.

But tonight, we put that aside. It’s the big annual summer party in the village. The three-course meal with wine and coffee is ready to be served under the plane trees behind the village hall for the two hundred and fifty who have booked their places well in advance. The pretty tables like long and colourful caterpillars await families. The bandas playing makes the children spin. The bar brings together friends and neighbours laughing out loud in their clean Sunday best, the orchestra is there, and then there will be fireworks a little later by the water tower and it will be more beautiful and much bigger than usual…

Good year for hay, bad year for everything else. I have a stomach ache.