Picnic

Not far from Argelès there is a lake where we go annually with a summer couple who are now year round residents. One year there were horses sampling the grass behind us and they lay down on their backs moving to give themselves a good scratch.

The man of the couple would swim the entire lake with his snorkel. His wife would do a few strokes and return to read while Barbara was somewhere in between.

Me?

I'd wade being careful not to cut my feet on the rocks, then return to shore to enjoy the tranquility far different from the towel-to-towel mayhem of La Plage.

This year our water exploits were about the same, although Barbara's back limited her time in the water.

This year our regular picnic was a first for Rick. Everyone brought something from traditional tunafish to a carrot cake. A bottle of champagne made it extra special. The champagne was a late celebration of the woman's birthday, although we all agreed when it comes to celebrations, we can find any reason.
 

A short walk through the words and we came to another lake, smaller equipped with tele-skiing. We watched as mostly young men skirted the leg pulled by the cable.  Some twisted, turned and jumped, we suspected wanting adoration from the girls watching on the sure. There was also a beginner section where people were towed from a kneeling position. This is new feature. In winter the lake will revert to a fisherman's lake.

We wonder which the fish prefer...the water churning over their heads or the potential to be cooked up Catalan style with tomatoes, garlic and onions.