PAUL CHRISTENSEN

A few days ago the winds came up; there were clouds north and east of us piled up like dark blue foot hills. We sat on the terrace of the village bar, my wife and I, sipping rose wine (me) and she a glass of Perrier and slice of lemon. Men and women were in the final eliminations of a game of petanque, the boules game played with iron balls and a tiny wooden peg called a piglet, which served as the target for every player trying to get as close to it as possible without lett