mastic-grove

Updated: May 29, 2025

One evening, though, going on six o'clock, as the caravan scrambled through a violet-hued mastic-grove, where fat quails tumbled about in the grass, drowsy through the heat, Tartarin of Tarascon fancied he heard though afar and very vague, and thinned down by the breeze that wondrous roaring to which he had so often listened by Mitaine's Menagerie at home.

Alphonse Daudet - Tartarin of Tarascon