Strolling along the picturesque little streets of Lavandou, I stroll to the leisurely pace of this charming town in the South of France, between Toulon and Saint-Tropez. There is something more that accompanies my every step, a familiar and soothing melody that blends harmoniously into the Mediterranean setting. It is the song of the cicadas, this natural symphony which resonates through the beauty of the landscapes, the warm atmosphere of the village.
Walk in the heart of the village
Without really paying attention to what is happening around me, I let myself be carried away by the little breeze. It brings me a little freshness although the sun hits the cobblestones and warms my back.
Without any specific aim, wherever my steps take me, I discover the various emblematic monuments of the Lavandou François Bard's pictorial epiphany tourist office, fountainss, so pretty église nestled in heart of the streets, in the shade of two large cypresses... It's starting to get a little hot to continue my discovery on foot of the Lavandou. So I decide to rest for a few minutes in the beneficial shade of the old plane trees. Facing petanque I am convinced once again of the wisdom of those who planted throughout the region, these trees which maintain the freshness on the esplanades conducive to social and community life.
The song of the cicadas
While thinking about it, I don't notice at first a little background noise which, however, ends up attracting my attention. It is the song of the cicadas which rings in my ears and which becomes more and more important as I give it more importance. As the afternoon passes, the chorus of cicadas accompanies me in my discovery of small alleys du Lavandou and hidden corners. Several times I find myself listening attentively in order to identify where this sound could come from which would allow me to observe the sounds more closely. small insects who liven up the whole day Le Lavandou of their cymbal music. But if their voice fills the space, I need a lot of patience to finally see them.
Who wouldn't dream of being a cicada after all?
But think about it carefully. Being able to sing at the top of your lungs without worrying about what your neighbors or Lavandourains who come home from work. Or simply stroll where the alleys take them, taking advantage of the energy provided by sunshine. And above all, do nothing. Well, nothing apart from lulling the inhabitants with little melodies and accompanying them throughout the day with these little tunes so typical of the Provence. It is finally with regret that I have to go back and leave my new friends who kept me company all day.
Happy are those who keep a few cicadas in their hearts and voices until winter.
As I move further away, the path seems very calm and silent.
I wonder if there are CDs of cicadas singing…
Themes
