We’ve only left the house to eat.  We are in a tiny village. A handful of houses, the prettiest of Maries, and a twelfth-century church. Old stones, salmon pink and pale cream, mottled with grey and brown.  Green leaves protrude from minute square windows. I think of them as wide arrow slits. Shutters, beams, towers and porticos.We can see all of this glory from the … Continue reading A French Country Idyll.