I’ve only been in Provence once during lavender season. It was many years ago when everything in the region was new to me and I was much less adventurous. As a result, I didn’t see much lavender and have regretted it ever since. This year I wanted to be here in time to see it before it would be harvested. As everyone knows, there have been many things going on in the world that could potentially put this plan off-course, but thankfully it worked out.
I came armed with a plan of what routes I wanted to cycle early, knowing the warm weather could start the harvest at any time. I also wanted to return to some of the spots where I placed my mom’s ashes to see that I provided her picturesque locations with stunning views.
I am delighted to report I have not been disappointed. To date, I’ve been around the Pays de Sault (a lesser-known “capital” of lavender) and the Drôme. Every time I stop to take a picture—because it’s just shockingly beautiful—around the corner, or the next is another lovely patch. There are areas where the lavender is so close you can hear the bees humming. In others, you see fields high up on the hillsides, dotted with bright purple. Today there was some harvested lavender drying in the fields, and the smell was intoxicating. I plan to get out a few more times to soak it all up before it’s gone. While the scent during harvest provides its own magical moment in time, seeing fields upon fields of violet blossoms is awe-inspiring.
After watching the floods all over Europe, the devastating fires in Canada and the US, Covid and every other rotten thing in this world, seeing all this splendour is humbling. I feel incredibly grateful to be here, under a blue sky and bright sun. I am reminded—often to the point of tears—there is still so much beauty on this beaten-down planet. And if we are lucky enough to see it, take it in. Stop, breathe deep, and appreciate all the good there is.
