It's nearly 8am and the only noise I'm hearing is my stomach growling.
I don't know how it's happened, but the tribe and it's chief are all still sleeping and I'm by myself, enjoying coffee and the early morning sun.
I forgot how quiet it can be here.
No sound of cars passing by, no sound of the sea, no humming of an air conditioner.
I catch a lone sound of a cow off in the distance or a bird singing down in the field, but other than that, it's quiet.
How I've missed being home.
It's one heck of a journey from here to anywhere and when flying or driving along, knowing you've got "miles to go before I sleep," one can start second guessing the choice to live so far from family and friends. It's an effort to get anywhere else and an effort to get back. I could easily become a hermit and never leave the village.
I think this is why the Birth Control Bed & Breakfast usually has a full guest list. If anyone wants to make the effort to see us in this West Virginia of France, they deserve a clean room, good wine, warm bread, and a peaceful sunrise.
Now, if they get all that, that's another story.
Usually, they get howling dogs, fighting children, day old baguettes, and Auvergne wine, which we like, but lack some international recognition.
But, alas, here comes the chief. Just in time for coffee, before the noises get up.