You’ll have to be quick but if you find yourself driving down one of those tree-lined avenues where the plane trees are majestically showing off their autumn foliage and Canigou is sitting white and snow-capped against a steel-grey and blue sky - drink it in. When you come back next week the scene may have changed

Zooming round the winding roads along the coast towards Banyuls-sur-mer, we pass the vines, hundreds of them, all looking rather forlorn and bare. « This is the nicest part of the life-cycle of the vine, » said my husband, « the time when you drink the wine . » There’s always something good to say about life in the P.O.!

At time of writing it’s pouring with rain and that lovely sprinkling of snow that was covering the Albères has melted and trickled down to join the streams and rivers gushing down the hills. In Argelès-sur-Mer we are often marooned at this time of year as La Massane causes chaos at all points where it meets the road. We’ve had some sun though and some extremely cold temperatures. There have been days when one is coaxed outside and others where the crackle and spit of a flaming fire makes us pull up a chair and settle down with a good book.

It’s the countdown towards the rising of the sap. The cherry and almond blossom and the mimosa are hustling for the position of Best in Show. Apricot and peach buds are bursting to show off their petals. Shrubs are being cut back, vines have been clipped and tied, camp-sites are being spruced up, weeds are being torched (yes, really) - there’s a mad dash to get everything ready for the Spring. As always, keeping a cool head in all of this is our friend Canigou reminding us that Winter is not over quite yet.

On the subject of putting the clocks forward, I haven’t quite grasped the logic of it but according to someone I know, if you make a start at the beginning of March and get up earlier each day, there’s a good chance that when the time comes you won’t miss that lost hour - that feeling of sleep deprivation (which grips the psyche of some people lucky enough to sleep longer than 6 hours a night) will have completely disappeared! I’m all for Nature taking its course.

The beautiful song of the Nightingale which until quite recently accompanied our night’s sleep is dearly missed. During the day we are now being treated to the plaintive coos of our friend the Hoopoe. (Apparently pronounced Hoo-poo for reasons which I won’t go into in case some of you are reading this over breakfast!)

Scorched Earth! Well not quite. If you’re up among the massive, craggy limestone rocks in the gorges somewhere between Arles sur Tech and Saint Laurent de Cerdans
and take those roads which wind through the forests, it’s green and lush and full of birdsong.