The ninth of twelve

On the ninth day of Christmas..
my inner love says to me
that I love to write, take photos, walk once I've got my coat on and gathered motivation to get out and about, cycle (when weather becomes warm) and when muscles get used to the action.
Yesterday, eventually I became inspired upon a route and headed in that direction. I marvel at the fact that the woodland above L'Anglin has remained as it is for 100 years or more, yet constantly in its state of growth and decay!

Further en route, I discovered a different siting of a Borie, in excellent condition on a small chemin that I had never walked before. I like to find a new route.
See two previous postings for regional cabanes/bories/shepherds' huts :  one    and   two 

 The view looking out from the borie doorway:

Just around the corner of the lane , inaccessible to any roving wanderer, but more visible in winter, is the largest borie I know of in this region.  I suppose I have identified at least 12 in this area.

I had walked much further than intended. I'd been out for almost three hours.  I still couldn't find the chemins marked on the map but have clearly been eroded by agriculturists and the owners of woodland.  On the way home in the dusk with rain falling, the former miller of the watermill offered me a lift into the village.   I abandoned my 'dog defense tool', an acquired walking stick as I stepped into his new looking vehicle.