Whirr and whizz

Off to the plateau of Calern this morning. Bright sunshine, keen mountain air, the strong scent of lavender and thyme as our sandals passed over the tufts of hardy vegetation.

Hardly a sound, except for the excited warning chirrup of invisible small birds as we approached their hiding places.

Then a strange whirring sound, almost wasp-like. It was the aeromodellers' club, flying their sleek, radio-controlled gliders off the cliff edge. With the wind thrumming across their wings, they flew with almost the same grace as the eagles and buzzards we often see up there.