Lunch, Views and Sex Education

Le Castellas is a large farm at the end of the road (not suitable for a Ferrari) beyond Sivergues.

This is one of our favorite places to go at least once every summer with the grandchildren, children and others that are young at heart. A simple meal of goat cheeses, home cured ham, with plenty of bread and salad, washed down with wine and coffee eaten under huge spreading trees in the meadow at communal tables, surrounded by goats and/or pigs! With magnificent views in the midst of the Luberon mountains.

One is truly in the midst of nature, and while we were there, the pigs were doing what all animals are driven to do with no consideration for the audience. Those who are sensitive to Piggy Porn, should, perhaps, be prepared to look the other way....

Ruminations while by the Pool

Relaxing in the shade of our best producing olive tree (25 kilos in a good year) while breathing in the scent of lavender growing nearby, I couldn't avoid seeing the filament covered blue sky. Con trails from aircraft that had been torn apart by the high altitude winds ended up as this all pervasive but fine white cotton floating up above. While we have laws to prevent neighbors from growing trees that come over ones property, where are the laws to inhibit the hiding of beautiful blue skies by the intrusive planes that leave their own form of detritus behind.

Zurich to Barcelona; Moscow to Madrid; Paris to Tunis; London to Nairobi; do the sardine-packed inhabitants of these aluminum tubes realize that they are diminishing the enjoyment of thousands beneath them as they go to seek fresh pleasures? - Sounds like a grumpy old man talking.

While on the subject of olives, one of the deepest mysteries of the Luberon is the olive crop. While one tree may bear fruit prolifically, its neighbours may have a handful or even none at all. Everyone has their theories - one is better protected from the Mistral - there is not enough air circulating - there are unfriendly insects in the soil. Who knows - may be part of the glamour of olive growing is that there are no firm answers; they just don't behave like biscuits on a production line.