Let's Just Pave it All

Just returned from a short walk with Attila. I started too late in the day, and it warmed up quickly, so we only walked about three miles. We “flushed” out a deer that was resting in the shade of the woods. I always have to catch my breath when I see one of these creatures up close they're so beautiful.

As I've mentioned before, France has this network of extensive public footpaths that traverse private property. You can walk all over the country on them, avoiding traffic while walking in peace through farms and forests . . . except for the occassional Mirage that flies over blowing out your eardrums. The paths have been around for HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of years . . . I suppose some of them have reached the THOUSAND years mark.

A while back, before we purchased our property, the previous mayor of our commune allowed people to purchase the paths that ran through their property. I image he had a FRIEND who wanted to purchase their path, and so he opened up our entire local system to the free market.

I only know of two people who did it. One was a Dutchman, the other a Frenchman.

The French owners of the castle down the valley (most likely his FRIENDS) bought the path that ran through their property, and then promptly closed it off. By doing so, people who are walking on the path that traverses our property are prevented from continuing through the valley . . . pedestrians either have to take the paved road and deal with some traffic, or turn up a steep path that adds a few more kilometers onto the hike. No big deal, but it wasn’t very neighborly of them to shut off the path, and so the entire community still talks negatively of them, and it’s been five, maybe seven years after their insult to the community.

The Dutchman seems to have relented and opened up his path. He defensively told me that he only closed it off because his wife sunbathes nude and he didn't want people walking through to oogle her. But she's hardly ever here and that doesn't explain why he had been keeping it closed off all year long.

Oh, the former mayor moved out of the village last summer too!

Walking these paths has become one of my favorite pastimes. I love going with the sheep, but Blanche and Soixante-Douze are now too fat to go hiking. The five lambs won’t split up for a single moment and since I don’t think I can manage to keep five sheep away from the farmhouses and their flowers, I don’t take them with me.

So now I take Attila, who isn’t quite as fun as the sheep. I haven’t figured out why, but when I do, I’ll let you know.

Last night, as it was getting dark, I heard engines revving on the path behind our mill. I went out with the dog to see what was going on, and found a group of four-wheelers trying to figure out how to get one of their monstrosities unstuck from the gravel and rocks. The path back there narrows down to a rocky narrow passage that even horses find difficult to traverse without slipping.

Attila barked at them which gave them a fright. I just shook my head as they freed the four-wheeler and drove it down our little hill onto our property and then looked around for a way to get out. I think it was the “industrialist” from Paris who has a house down the road . . . he’s the one having the affair with the local girl . . . her mother is so proud of the fact that she brags about it in the beauty salon where she works.

I just can’t figure out the mindset of people who tear up nature with their engines . . . snowmobiles in Yellowstone Park, motorcycles in the woods, jet skis on lakes . . .how can they possibly enjoy the gifts of nature when they're ripping her up and not able to hear what she has to say.

The world is too noisy, and there are so precious few places to escape that constant noise. For our own sanity, we need to protect what tiny patches of peace we have left on this planet.

Last year our present mayor, at someone else’s instigation, not mine, posted the path behind our mill with signs at both ends saying that it is forbidden for any vehicles with engines to travel on it . . . if I could vote here he’d get my vote.

Oh, speaking of voting . . . did I tell you that the ONLY village in our postal region, which must include around thirty to forty villages, to vote FOR the European constitution was our little village. I don’t know how I would have voted on that one!