Driving down snake hill as I headed back from the Greek Hovel towards the village of Kambos all was quiet. I could hear nothing at all. Bliss! Can God please have words with the Mrs about retiring and us living here all year round.
And there was some sound, not humans for there were none about but the tinkling of bells as I encountered a herd of sheep. The grass is lush and green at this time of year and they were feeding greedily, hopping over the rocks in a dedicated quest to fill their bellies.
And at the bottom of the hill there was another sound...that of water. The dry river has filled up after recent heavy rains and now spills over the track before falling off a ledge into a stream on the other side on its way to Susan Shimmin's "lake"