What could have persuaded me to pick several tonnes of potatoes in mid-afternoon of the hottest day of the year? To follow a tractor up and down a field, on my knees, with a heavy bucket and sweaty hands?
In futile pursuit of a plough, once drawn by horses, but now pulled by something a little more modern (but only just)?
Could it be a reluctance to refuse my father-in-law, when he decreed that today was the day? Or was it that I welcomed the chance to spend an afternoon “en famille”?
Maybe it was just the thought of the freshly picked melon that awaited us once we’d finished? Or more likely the idea of a cellar filled with a year’s supply of potatoes.
Question: Where do mountain dwellers go on holiday?
Answer: You’ll have the answer when I get back 🙂
Fantastic photos…you’ll be considered the French equivalent of America’s Ree, The Pioneer Woman, if you continue with your beautiful photos of men hard at work in farming and ranching endeavors.
But what vistas you have to look at, when you do get to look up!
Your life does indeed seem a step back in time (for most of us). I find it enviable.
I think you are most deserving of a vacation! Look forward to hearing about it.
Maybe it was the freakin’ hot bods!
Do mountain dwellers go to the beach?
Great potatoes!
Have fun on your vacation – perhaps to another mountain location???
Have just a fabulous mini-vacation of my own…catching up on your August entries. Wonderful…so much is similar to my first years as a farmers wife in Africa…so different and so much the same. Hope you have a fabulous vacation! Have to agree with Mary Alice (above), similar to Ree at Pioneer Woman, but soo much better! LOL
Enjoy the mini vacation and take lots of phots!
Work, play, play, work. Your writing takes us back to the earth, maybe where we need to be for awareness. Today I was at the Farmer’s Market so I appreciate what work it is to bring food from the earth.
Well I hope you’re having a fabulous time of it!
I’m sure your back hurts when you are done, but you have to admit that the scenery beats that of a crowded grocery store. What a romantic way to obtain potatoes.
Maybe you followed the plow because you were wroking on your tan for the seaside of the Riveria?!