The sun rises over the Cher river. Blades of moist, green grass strain towards the thawing light as it appears in the east. The sky will fill with clouds as the day passes, a typical Sunday late in the month of April.
In these early hours, shop-keepers, relieved at the prospect of working a half day, open their doors to their local stores. Bakeries, cafes, butchers and grocers introduce their wares to the light that has shone upon the river every day for generations. And as the population of this small, rural French village emerge from their quaint, tired homes, the sense of small-town happiness drapes the sky like the clouds it mingles with.
A small, riverside road with tables and chairs arranged on one side and the cafe du sport on the other, sees locals approach in their small family cars from the direction of a local market, some ten kilomtres away. Cyclists dismount after hurtling themselves for hours along winding roads, through idyllic French landscapes and along the Cher. Passing through the green fields, accentuated by the fluorescent yellow of the rapeseed crops, a literal hunger grows in their bellies for fresh bread and pastries, a thirst to be quenched by a mid-morning coffee.
And crawling from the same direction, via long, narrow and eternally winding roads, two tourists in an old white van cough and splutter their way across the river. Unwashed and barely refreshed after a half-decent sleep in their van not far from here, they search the narrow street for somewhere to park. After mounting a curb or three and with much frustration, the driver finally makes it into a space built for a vehicle half his size.
Out of the car, they ignorantly lock the doors. At 11am on a Sunday, anyone with criminal tendencies is most likely sleeping off a hangover from the night before. After he orders coffee and she rushes to the bathroom, they sit out in the sun, next to the oyster seller, 12 euros for a dozen, on the street where he sells them every Sunday. She finds a free table and take a seat, while he stands nearby, outside the bakery. A line stretches out the door, but when he reaches the front he realises it's worth it. Spotless glass cases display dozens of cakes, croissants and chocolates, and in the back stand fresh baguettes, the .
He makes his selections, pays, and rejoins her at their table. Overlooking the river with their backs to the sun, they sit and enjoy their surroundings. The townspeople of Savonnieres go about their daily life, relaxing in the sun, drinking, eating, and in this tiny community, Sunday is truly a day for leisure.
