We’re in the midst of a heat wave here in France. Canicule. The temperature doesn’t even drop sufficiently at night for the house to catch a breather. Fortunately, the old walls are thick and well-insulated and, yes, we make it fine in the end even without air conditioning. Dogs lie about like they’re dead. Well-watered shade plants wilt, because even in the coolth of a shadow, it’s a veritable oven. And, still, Nature offers up small gifts and reminders of things to come. Change. I’ve been saving these from our wild-flower patch which I’ll relocate next Spring. Seed pods. Many are varieties of poppy, coquelicots. The others, I can’t name. But I love their space-age packaging and the seeds which, in this heat, fall out of them willingly, some no larger than motes of dust and blacker than coal.