A small red ball reminded us that three things have been happening. Primarily there’s too much comfort in bed to go looking for it; our lodgings are not facing that way; or the mist and cloud are keeping it for themselves.
But it was brief – it hasn’t been playing ball most of the day. The covers stayed on in the morning which made for easy walking, lots of grass to hide the mud, gravel and tarmac roads.
Bushland opened onto fields, over bridges with noisy rivers and creeks, through 3 villages and what timing, a lunch time bar open. We had our food but there’s a rush of blood when you know there is liquid other than water and a ‘proper’ place to sit, and……a table.
The long field stretches are hardest, but little of that today. A few hills today, nothing strenuous though, with lots of individual trees strategically placed or left on ridges, rest areas, and even hedges hiding garbage areas. Poppies hide amongst the crops, with some crouching close to the road to avoid the ploughs, other vain ones crying out for a picture.
A building covered a small creek allowing it to flow freely through, ‘Pan de Bois’ sat beside creeks, shared their walls with Ivy, but most were vain like the Poppies and the village Mairies. Water flowed in other ways as we tried to avoid spray from large tractors. Our concern was whether the water had nasty additives so wind direction was important and whether the huge contraption was in front of us or behind.
Poplar tree paths and small plantations rattled their leaves heralding the wind, its loyal bell ringer as we wound our way, very quickly, over the last kms home. Corrie is renowned on the caminos for her late spurts home. Two dogs – one large, one small spoke to us very gruffly when we knocked on the huge double gates. Once their mum, our host, showed we were friends, they were ours also. As I write this ‘Gold’ is resting her tired tonsils by nestling up against us on his mum’s couch, probably looking for comfort against the furious deluge outside that we just missed.
