On one of our provençale mountain drives (I think it was on the Mt. Ventoux), we were trailing some slow moving vehicles around some curvy parts of the road. Suddenly I was struck by the overwhelming odor of ripe goat cheese.
At that very moment we turned a corner and had to stop. A small herd of goats had stopped traffic and tourists were out of their cars snapping photos. Of course, I jumped out and joined them.
I was surprised by the smell of goat cheese. I had never really liked it much, and this smell just reinforced my distaste of the stuff. I love it now that I live here where it's made and have had a chance to try a lot.
After a short while the goats moved on and so did we.
Cinq photos de fleurs mouillées
3 hours ago