We rise each morning and emerge into blazing heat, haze of ever-singing cigales, the air heavy, saturated with sweet aromas of floral fragrance, fruit trees, wild thyme and rosemary which pepper these fertile slopes.
Our rhythm is simple, elemental. The morning is for collecting eggs, feeding chickens, goats and fish, irrigation and small tasks.
Followed by work immersed in green beauty and arid grass. A garden of Eden. Fruit trees abound: oranges and lemons, kiwis and kumquats, heaps of fresh figs. Olive groves and vineyards. A vegetable patch and greenhouse with more tomatoes than even my cousin and I can stomach. The harvest is plentiful.
Meals are filling, succulent, often with products sourced from the local land. Juicy, beastly tomatoes and olive oil from the groves. Homemade vervenne and limoncello, with leaves and lemons picked just a few metres from the kitchen. The wine too, flows. The most nourishing are the conversations though. The anecdotes shared, the stories recounted. And there are many to be told, to be absorbed. Our hosts are well-travelled. From launching a worldwide sporting franchise to driving the hippie trail to Afghanistan in a combi in the 60s, there is no shortage of tales to be gaped at.
Free time blurrs into a cocktail of pleasurable adventures. We rest, hike, cycle, explore, laze by the pool, hit the local bar. Barter at local markets, sing songs deep into the night, cook up feasts and soak up the ever-present Mediterranean sunshine.
A peaceful bubble in the backcountry of Provence, a bracket out of space and time. A wonder-filled ten days of exchange and experience.
Please find attached a random assortment of photos. Part 2 to follow✌
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