Dimanche

I took the girls for a walk today. Blanche is so fat that we can't go on three hour walks any more. She pants like a dog with her tongue hanging out if we have to walk up a slight incline. I also think she has breathing difficulty because she had a mild case of lamb pneumonia when she was young. Most of the way, she walks right beside me, her rotund side rubbing against my leg. Sometimes, she'll see something appealing to eat and stops to nibble. The funny thing is, that if I keep walking and don't look back at her, she'll stay for a long time eating; but as soon as I turn around, she starts running to me. It's a hysterical sight to see this huge blob of wool, loping towards me on her scrawny peg legs.

Soixante-Douze, still petite, likes to do that spring lamb dance where she hops down the road by jumping off the ground and flying a bit forward in the air with all four hooves off the ground. I'll hear this "bop-bop-bop" behind me and I turn around to see her sailing towards me.

She's getting much friendlier towards me. When I was laying down on the side of the road hugging Blance, S-D surprised me by coming up several times and touching me with her nose.

The weather is still below freezing at night, but the days are beautifully sunny and warm if you're bundled up and laying in the sun. The three of us walked over a mile to see if the source of the canal was clogged. The water level of the basin had dropped rapidly yesterday so I had to do a little detective work to figure out what was going on. When we arrived at the source, it was obvious that the grill covering the intake pipe was clogged with leaves. I didn't bring a pitchfork with me to get them off, so we turned around and headed back.

We passed by the Count's cousins' abandoned maison de maitre, a remnant of the past glory of the nobility, and the girls wanted to eat the lush grass around the large house, so I laid in the grass, taking photos of them, and enjoyed watching them eat. (You'll have to wait until after the 23rd to see all my photos.)

Sheep cut off the grass and inhale it without chewing. The grass goes to a holding stomach, where they'll burp it back up later to chew.

Late this afternoon, Roger called me to tell me that he had driven out to the source to check it. He only does this for my benefit because the canal doesn't go through his property. He told me that it was clogged. I told him I was aware of that, but I would just let it remain clogged for a few days, let the water totally drain out of the basin, and then we could telephone the forgeron to come fix the vanne.

Roger was surprised when I told him that most of the water had already gone out of the basin. I told him there were just a few centimeters left. He told me that he would drive over to see if it was low enough for the forgeron to work on it.

He arrived in his Deux Chevaux with Miss his Border Collie sitting beside him. We walked around the back of the moulin and VOILA, the basin was full. Roger seemed to think I was losing my mind, or that my French was devolving and he hadn't been able to understand what I had said on the phone.

I had Roger call Louis Couderc, the property owner at the head of the canal. It turns out that Louis unclogged the intake pipe at noon, after Roger, I, and the girls had inspected it. Louis thinks that fishermen purposely clogged up the grill so that the water from the ruisseau wouldn't be diverted. If this is true, it's disconcerting, because last year, we had to put in a new vanne at the source after someone had sabotaged it. Again, the theory last year was that it was fishermen. The gendarmes were called out, but they didn't have a clue, and I'm sure they didn't pursue any leads . . . like the many bottles of chlorine lying about that our friends speculated were used to POISON the fish for easy fishing. I asked who in their right mind would poison a fish before catching it, and was told by several people that it was probably gypsies!

The gypsies get blamed for everything around here. I think that's the reason the French allow them to squat on small parcels of land throughout the country. The close proximity of the gypsies means there's an explanation for every mysterious happening. Life is much more straightforward that way. Nothing to puzzle over. You can't find your keys? Blame it on the gypsies, shrug, then go find your spare set.

I'm a Virgo . . . that's an Earth sign. I shouldn't be plagued with all these water issues. But this is what I get for marrying a PISCES!!!!!