Rural

Vision Du Réel is a documentary film festival that takes place every year, or almost. It is an opportunity to watch documentary films on a screen bigger than a laptop or television. Many films are screened with the director/producer but they are also screened a second time. Yesterday I went to watch The Mountains Won’t Move. It is an observational, cinéma verité style film.

There is no narration. There are no subtitles. Almost everything takes place in the mountains. You watch people at work, taking care of sheep, goats and cows. They also spend time speaking about a dog they appreciate.

Yesterday afternoon I was convinced that I would have a short easy walk, just to get out of the house. In reality I walked from Nyon to Bonmont and back along roads, but also farm paths. I walked this route because I decided that going for a walk would keep me cooler than if I stayed in my apartment.

At first it was going to be a short loop, but eventually I thought “If I walk slowly it doesn’t matter how long I walk for so I modified my course and walked towards Cheserex. I was going to check the lending library in Cheserex but someone was sitting there so I walked by the swimming pool and then up towards Bonmon and across. The grass cutters were out. With so much rain this summer grass is growing fantastically well.

Today I saw a strange machine so I stopped to watch it in action. It went over a pile of manure and flipped it around to get air through the pile to help with the forming of fresh manure to spread on fields shortly.

https://youtu.be/EjWcjqe7I8I

Before going over the pile of manure

After going over the pile of manure

Two Donkeys In The Sun

Do you feel like you are being watched. Imagine loving south of a field of sunflowers.

Wet chickens

Chickens in the rain, for a change.

During a pandemic it makes sense to go to the mountains and it makes sense to walk where you have space to the left and right to keep social distancing. Today I saw the cows near St Cergue and they were all sitting and relaxing, chewing the cud, waiting for the tourist day to open.

I haven’t been to the mountains much over the last four years because of the pandemic, a broken arm and for one summer no car. I say this but I did go up, on a bike. I have been up at least three or four times this year. I’ve been up to St Cergue via the safe road, la Barillette via the normal road, once, and up the steep La Rippe climb twice. It’s not that I don’t go to the mountains, it is that I do go up and going up is the workout, not what I do once at the top.

The conversation is too often about designing cities to be car-free, but I would argue that designing the countryside to require less frequently would be more advantageous. The reason for this is that walking from village to village, and from villages to towns eliminates the need for, and appeal of the car. If the need for a car is mooted by making the sides of roads pleasant for pedestrians and cyclists, we reduce the allure of the car.

On Google Plus, one of my muses, I saw that instead of Street photography someone suggested Village photography. I like the idea because villages are such an integral part of my life. Life in villages is a privileged one. Every time we go for a walk we cross people we do not know and say hello. We walk from field to field and along paths. We see which crops have been planted and which ones are being harvested. We see frequent horses and dog walkers. We also see families. We hear the sound of rifle practices at the local gun range. The practice is for military service most of the time. We also have fountains and old buildings. We hear the church bell every half hour and hour. We see the fountains with wooden chalet to protect from the cold in winter. Villages are seasonal. In summer the sounds of children playing, of fireworks and of barbecues can be heard. In Autumn the sound of wind blowers can be heard. In Winter we see lights on as the neighbours prepare their evening meal. In the mornings we see parents bring their children to school before the bell rings and they head in to their classes to sit and wait impatiently for the school day to be over so that they may go out on adventures. That’s why village photography captivates my imagination. I know villages well. I appreciate them. I look forward to looking at images from the past, and preserving today for future generations.