A few days ago, after we had tried to see the elusive nightingale near the ornithological lake we sat eating our ice-creams by the side of the pond at the Maison du Parc en Brenne. Whilst we sat motionless, we watched the frogs, also motionless, until the ribbet-ribbet resulted in the little balloons at the side of their heads. They were singing their 'love serenade' pushing the air through their larynx. The elastic membranes (vocal sacs) distend so that the sound is amplified. They were so sweet. There were some very pretty white flowers near the edge of the water ... maybe the 'Cuckoo flower' ... I know it is not 'le coucou' (the cowslip in French) This year the cowslips have been more magnificent than I have ever seen. Oh, to be nearer the Brenne!
COUNTDOWN: 6 days - Already anxious about a number of things!
2 comments:
When I was a vourier in London, a frenchman who rode for the same company used to have a saying when it was raining- 'la fete de la grenouille'
Nice photos.
I think, my dearest and only son, you mean a courier not a 'vourier' though I contemplated on the meaning of this word for some time! ... You were, just for the record of those who read this blog, a bicycle courier who rode a bike with no gears and no helmet! Mad!
But you enjoyed it... and it set you challenges... and you were good at it... and you met interesting people... and you lived in London ... and I loved to visit you in your flat above the tram station and listen to the firemen on their SHOUT next door at all times of the night and I never got much sleep because London never sleeps! Thank you for those times. Madre xx
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