The Ariège (Occitan: Arièja) is a 164 km long river in southern France, right tributary of the Garonne. Its source is in the Pyrenees, where it forms part of the border with Andorra. It flows north through the following départements and towns:
Ariège (named after the river): Ax-les-Thermes, Les Cabannes, Tarascon-sur-Ariège, Montgaillard, Foix, Varilhes, Pamiers, Saverdun.
Haute-Garonne: Cintegabelle, Auterive.
It flows into the Garonne in Portet-sur-Garonne, south of Toulouse. If the Latin origin of its name (Aurigera) is to be trusted, the Ariège is supposed to carry gold nuggets.
i’m more interested in another type of gold but i’ll keep looking…
no anger, no nationalism, no blood, no politics, no religion, no patriotism, no violence, no fear.
stereotypes show us the Eiffel tower, baguettes, people with bad teeth, cheese and quite attractive women in mini-skirts and while all those can be rightly considered symbols of this nation, there’s of course a lot more to it than that. France, just like many other countries is primarily agricultural, take a flight over the country and almost all you’ll see are fields. real nature can be found here and there but man’s intervention dominates the landscape but that doesn’t necessarily mean that its unattractive. more than mere symbols of the need for food and commerce, they’re a strong reminder of the ones who created them.
this place is just around the corner but it could be anywhere. all these fields seem to convey the same feeling; one of peace and quiet, of serenity and timelessness and contemplation. these fields occasionally get washed out by storms, hail and even fire but they always grow back and so will those who made and loved and tended them for its their home and homes occasionally need to be rebuilt.
and since fog transmits sound so well, here’s some fog music.
Corinne Dardé loves taking images of Parisian walls. i love her images.
funny how outside of France today is called Bastille day but here it’s just ‘Fête Nationale'(national holiday)…
anyhow, being B-day and all, tonight, all the french cities will have fireworks and countless frenchmen will be ‘Ooooing and ‘Ahhhhing speechlessly for at least an hour. a nice break from the usual mundane frenchitudes as far as i’m concerned.
anyhow again. you’re probably thinking so what ? and i most certainly won’t fault you for that but here’s the interesting part. (sort of)
i happen to live in a strange city that does their fireworks on the 13th instead. in this year’s case i’m guessing it was about celebrating Saturday or maybe pre-B-day or who knows what so, as a preview of coming events that happened yesterday here’s some boom-boom shot from the Cobra Terrace overlooking the Canal du Midi. *
missing out on a lot of fish but then, it never really was about catching fish…
“In Southwestern France, a group of fish have learned how to kill birds. As the River Tarn winds through the city of Albi, it contains a small gravel island where pigeons gather to clean and bathe. And patrolling the island are European catfish—1 to 1.5 metres long, and the largest freshwater fish on the continent. These particular catfish have taken to lunging out of the water, grabbing a pigeon, and then wriggling back into the water to swallow their prey.”
i’m thinking a
disgusting dirty grey full neck hackle wound around a block of foam with a zip-tie will do the trick and i’m packin’. Albi is about an hour away…
big thanks to Agitated-Acey for the tip-off !
two views from the Cobra’s new office in the south of France.
these stonefly nymph exoskeletons (shucks) where split all the way down the back allowing the adult insect to mute for the last time and fly away to do whatever bugs do.
a springtime image from a Pyrenean river in the south of France. it’s like someone put in some kind of weird milk chocolate for the fish !
is a pretty little rainbow trout from the Pyrenees foothills in southern France.