... are gathering on our new super-power electricity line. Not just in ones and twos but dozens, chattering and fluttering.
In the drought, Monsieur F has abandoned watering his maize and taken the lot for silage for his cows.
Further down the valley, the first of the fields of blackened sunflowers has been cleared. Those around us are not far behind.
The camper vans in the supermarket car parks this weekend will be heading north and home.
The pears on our small tree are blush coloured - nearly ready for picking - and the grapes on the old vines along the veranda are more black than green.
Even through these hottest of days there is a feel of the turn of the seasons.
First misty morning