This past week I was supposed to be on a brilliant trip with les trois Canadiennes. Sadly, it got postponed (I prefer to think of it as postponed rather than cancelled mes très chères amies). While it would have been the best trip and likely would have made summer feel longer, not going meant I would have more time here to soak up every last moment.
It’s a bit of an odd year, as I’ll be heading to house sit in Malaucène again, which means packing up at Chez Paula. It’s strange: I have all the profoundly sad emotions I often get at the end of my time here, but I must keep reminding myself it’s not over yet. I will just be moving.
And as I found after my first stay in Malaucène, I love it there! Less wind, access to fabulous towns, bakeries, and amazing cycling. So, I shouldn’t be sad at all. And I have the bonus of a quick trip to Ireland to visit my friend I haven’t seen since before the whole Covid debacle. But somehow, it’s near impossible not to acknowledge that I am on the dwindling end of my time here. The cool weather, the return of the rain on occasion, and the height of the sun in the sky all signal we are headed to my most dreaded time of year.
Thankfully, there is still time to have dinners, drinks, walks, and cycles with friends. There is time to stare out into the gorgeous landscapes. There is time to drink the incredible wine of the region and eat the seasonal produce. There is time to still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin for a little while longer. And I will cherish every one of these magical things I have the privilege of experiencing year after year. Merci Provence.
