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Armor.
The ocean.
Water, wind, earth.
The three arms of the triskell, pre-eminent symbol of Brittany.

Pointe du Van.
Turquoise ocean loosing itself in faraway and misty purple. Chaos of rocks, covered in dazzling yellow lichen.

Rambling amidst a treasure of mauve heather, blue thyme, the yellow flowers of broom and gorse. Honeysuckle, appearing to smell stronger in the evening, when the sun stands low and makes colours warm and vibrant. A tapestry that is gorgeous and lovely, but treacherous, just like Blodeuwedd in the Welsh mythological soap.

Blodeuwedd: created out of blossom by sorcerers Math and Gwydion for Lleu, because his virgin mother (yes, I know...) Arianrhod denied him carnal pleasures with a human woman.
Blodeuwedd: a gorgeous and lovely flowergirl who has absolutely no say in the choice of her other half, reacts to Lleu as Elsa Lanchester to Boris Karloff, cuckolds him as soon as she can with neighbour Gronw Penbr and hatches wickes schemes to rob Lleu of his life. Something that is only possible when fulfilling a ridiculous accumulation of prerequisites (neither in water nor on dry land, clothed nor naked, indoors nor out of doors, riding nor walking, and he can only be smitten with a spear that took a year and a day in the making). With a typical Hero's naivety Lleu reveals to Blodeuwedd the unlikely way to bring about all these conditions.
A typical Hero with more muscle than brains, because he even gives a demonstration.
Neighbour then bravely throws his spear to a half-naked Lleu who is balancing with one foot in a tub and one foot on the back of a goat.
Makes for great action!
But in stead of dying, because of some obscure logic Lleu changes temporarily into an eagle. Blodeuwedd also gets a winged future: for punishment she is transformed into an owl.
(But isn't that actually a symbol for wisdom?)

The Welsh Blodeuwedd was created out of meadowsweet, broom and oak. Her Breton twin-sister grows out of the Breton coastal plants, that are a treasure for the eye and a torture for the ass.