At 10.15 a.m. the hand bell, from the school across the river, rings for morning break. I move from the beds to the shade of the shed, drink iced water, sit down on the roots of the old golden apple tree and watch the view. Dry season, it is hot. The water in the ravine trickles below Job's Tears to the river below. There is a digger working in the village of Vendome and the horns of the large trucks announce their descent of the winding mountain road. Lesser Antillean bullfinch, bananaquit and butterflies pass by with the cooling breeze that rustles the royal palms.
