Among the many things I wanted to do today: visit Morlaix and points south, to include the forested interior as far as Brasparts. Well, the best-laid plans and all, one would think someone who had only recently pointed to the positives of using a map would actually CARRY one when exploring points unknown.
One would be wrong.
Hmmm. And yet, such stupidity sometimes brings with it benefits not planned. Such as: even though I drove over 100 miles today, it was through countryside that continues to astound. Similar to the UK, when you reach town limit boundaries, your view changes. Within the town, life is crowded, hewn by (in the case of Bretagne) huge stone blocks, and roadways are usually bounded by homes built with those stones. Each town has seen history, feels lived-in. Leave the city limits, and you are immediately rural: sheep, cows, horses, hay, summer grains, artichokes, etc. Rolling hills of incredible greens, farm houses created from stones removed from the land.
Anyway, back to kismet. I'd been driving for several hours, photographing very little. As I'd given up on the day, turning the car back towards Pedernec, I espy ahead a tiny chapel, Chapelle Notre Dame du Pénity, found a few miles south of Callac. The chapel itself was just enough of a draw to part me from vehicle with camera in hand. However, it was the small stream behind the chapel which retained my attention for over an hour.
You see, the stream and the sunshine above were magickly coloured by invisibly-clear waters, the greens of underwater plants, the creams of mayflies in abundance, and the mating dances of hundreds (if not thousands) of cobalt-blue and brimstone-red dragonflies.
[ 2009: What I remember most of that afternoon was the serenity of the valley, the warmth of the sunshine, and the vast numbers of dragonflies and mayflies along this very tiny portion of the creek. And that I would have missed this had I not seen Some Thing in the chapel as I was driving by.
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