My little brook in France has no cultural or intellectual life, past or present. For high-flying festivals, drive further south. Local events were mostly invented by hippie refugees in the seventies. Bless them. Without their creativity, summer would be a vast, hot, empty limbo. In this village (above) remains one (1) lavender-grower and one (1) family business of industrial aromas and flavouring. That's more than enough to come up with a "traditional" "Plants and aromas Festival" every year in July.
July is good for tourists, and hell for green things. The sun burnt them all. Garden plants are scarce in this season, so the stands make do with the usual essential-oils burners, local and fair-trade artifacts, and lavender landscapes. I will shortly be allergic to lavender.
Fortunately, a plant collector from another departement (much cooler, high up on the mountains) took pity and came down with a load of rare or forgotten plants and pots. He was the one who introduced me to Herbe de la rue (street weed)
Now, what is street weed ? A wild specimen, brought to human gardens sometimes during the Middle Ages, and mostly known for its abortive powers. Yes, abortive. That's the "magic herb" burnt witches and maids in distress used to deal with the original sin. It has some other healing powers, but nothing worth mentioning. One wonders if RU, the abortion pill created by a French scientist, was named after its organic version. Now, that's worth investigating! The herbe de la rue looks very wild, as can be expected.Two female tourists from Northern France nearly bought one, then decided against it. Pity, it makes for interesting conversation at the gardening club meetings.
I did not mention a word about street weed in my report. My paper was founded by a catholic priest and is still something like the official voice of the Vatican in the departement.