Fall drive in the country

It was a perfect fall day today: crisp, clear air, deep blue skies and a rosy sunset for the finale. I took a ride to Bergerac--not historical Bergerac, but the shops at the rotary at the exit for Bergerac. Anyway, coming back, between Bergerac and Sainte Foy, I saw a sign pointing toward Duras. It wasn't a turn I typically take, but with three-quarters of a tank of gas and nothing at all to do, I took the turn.

The road passed through the historical towns of Gardonne, then Saussignac, before becoming a narrow country lane. The lane passed by farms and tiny towns with only a derelict church and maybe a post office.

Grape vines blazed in all colors of fall. Plum trees, recently covered with snowy spring blossoms, glowed warmly in the late afternoon sun.

Lazy cream-colored cows munched on crispy grasses. The skeletons of sunflowers bent their heads in dark silence. In some places the farmers had already cut the sunflowers down--leaving a five o'clock shadow of stubble across an undulating field.

Signs pointing the way to Duras popped up at various intervals, but at unmarked intersections I headed roughly west and always managed to get back on track to the next sign validating my course.

It was a perfect fall day for a long ride through vines, through forests,