You can't tell from this image, but I had to swallow several times on the way here, as my ears were popping. I live in the foothills of the Cevennes. The Lozère is the mountains for me, and several times I found myself well above 1,000 m in altitude.
La Source du Pêcher. I had heard quite good things. Unfortunately, I cavalierly failed to make a reservation, and seeing as it was Mother's Day in France...well, the lovely-sounding menu went untasted. Another time--and outside seating a must.
transhumance will be underway, slowing things down even more, as goats and sheep in the thousands head to summer pastures well above the hotter lowlands.
communal meals on long tables in front of the medieval church, under the sibilant, swooping circles made by dozens of swallows. Just earlier this month, they enjoyed the annual tête de veau.
The local roofs are eye-catching with their roughly-shaped slate tiles, unknown in the lowlands, where rounded terre cuite rules the day.
I know I did.