Our visit to a farm near Pont Carral this morning gave us an up-close-and-personal look at country life, Dordogne-style.
We had driven to the farm from Daglan to help our friend Judith load up her van with firewood. She had ordered a cubic metre of wood, which was to be cut into logs about 40 centimetres long. So we figured that we would just pull into the farmer’s driveway and start flinging logs into her van. Wrong.
It turns out that Monsieur was out back, just preparing to dump the load of wood onto the muddy ground, and then start cutting it to length. So we stood around, waiting as he attacked the wood pile with a gasoline-powered saw. Every few minutes, a few more logs were ready to be tossed into the van, as we ducked down to avoid the spray of sawdust that was flying back from the saw. Here is the farmer, with no gloves, no safety goggles, merrily sawing away:
As we waited, there was lots to see. The farmer’s two grown dogs and two puppies trotted around us, ducks would occasionally fly past, and the sun was playing off the old farm buildings in the cold, crisp air. Like this:
As my wife Jan and I left, we had a brief visit with two ducks as they waddled along on the frosty grass. A picturesque start to the day: