When I was a child, people often said that in Brittany, you always had to have a coat within reach. Summers were mild, the meadows stayed green, and rain was a regular part of the landscape. In northern Finistère, a sea temperature of over 16 °C was almost a rare occurrence.
Today, as I look out over the landscape from the Manoir de Kerozet, I sometimes feel as if I’m living in a different region. It’s mid-July. It’s been over a month since we’ve had any real rain. A few thunderstorms break out now and then, but the ground is so dry that the water disappears immediately. The meadows are yellow, the gardens are suffering, and the hedges are starting to turn brown. Even the wind, which used to bring that cool breeze so characteristic of our coast, has grown warm.
Like many of you, we now keep our shutters closed during the day and open our windows early in the morning to let in a little cool air. These are habits we used to associate with the south of France… and which are gradually becoming part of our daily lives. I am neither a scientist nor a climatologist. I’m simply sharing what I’ve observed over the years in this place where I live. What strikes me most isn’t a single day of extreme heat. It’s that what once seemed exceptional is gradually becoming the norm.
Doing Our Part, Simply
At the Manoir de Kerozet, we try to do our part. When we ask our guests to be mindful of their water usage or to avoid taking overly long showers, it’s not to impose rules. It’s because water is a precious resource, especially in Brittany, where supplies are relatively limited. After several weeks without rain, groundwater levels struggle to replenish, and water restrictions can be imposed quickly.
We’re lucky to have a spring that flows year-round on our property. It’s a true blessing. Yet even here, we’ve noticed that the little stream becomes less visible when the rains are slow to come. It’s a reminder that nothing can be taken for granted. In our daily lives, we also try to minimize our impact. We sort our trash, we compost, we feed some of the scraps to the chickens, we collect rainwater, and—when we remember—we reuse the water to water the flowers.
Do we do everything perfectly? No.
Sometimes we forget, or don’t pay attention to it ourselves. Some habits aren’t automatic yet. And that’s exactly what I’d like to share: being eco-friendly isn’t a race for perfection. It’s a series of small actions that we learn over time. Sharing our home is also part of this process. This old house is far too big for just two people. By welcoming travelers, we’re sharing resources that already exist rather than always thinking about building more. And restoring a centuries-old manor house is, in its own way, an act of preservation: sustaining what already exists, passing on our heritage, and giving it new life.
Travel a Different Way
I have a soft spot for travelers who arrive by bike. The roads in northern Finistère aren’t always easy on the calves, but it’s such a pleasure to see people choosing to explore the region in a different way.
For me, responsible tourism isn’t about being flawless. It’s about taking your time. Staying in the same place for several nights. Meeting the locals. Discovering local producers. Walking to a beach. Enjoying a sunset without necessarily rushing off to the next place to visit.
Ultimately, traveling slowly often allows you to experience things much more intensely.
Everyone can do their part
I am convinced that major changes will also come about through businesses, industry, and public policy decisions. But that doesn’t stop us from taking action at our own level as well.
For my part, I'm thinking more and more about developing activities that limit unnecessary travel. Because every kilometer avoided is a small step in the right direction.
No single action, on its own, will change the world. But millions of small actions can ultimately make a real difference.
The Manoir de Kerozet is a place where you can take your time. Time to chat over a cup of coffee, watch the dogs play in the garden, listen to the wind in the trees, watch the birds… even when it’s a little too hot.
I just hope that future generations will still be able to discover the Brittany that I knew: green, wild, welcoming, full of life, and unspoiled.
What about you? What small habits have you adopted at home or while traveling to help protect our planet a little better? I’d love to hear your ideas in the comments. Maybe they’ll inspire others… and us, too.