There are not many things in this life I dread more than saying goodbye to Provence. It’s an all-consuming heart and body ache. I feel sad for weeks leading up to it, even though I try to soak up every last drop at the same time.
I am still awed by the beauty here. It takes my breath away, often at unexpected moments. I see new routes, new villages, and new terrain, and I am always amazed it can all be so spectacular. I never get tired of it. I said to Jason, my eyes love what they see here. Being surrounded by such natural abundance that is alive and thriving helps me to feel alive.
I also adore all the oddities that occur in rural southern France in a Mediterranean climate. Like wild boar running around, the sound of cicadas, the random closures of shops and restaurants that make no sense whatsoever, endless snails, and having to rescue lizards and geckos that get stuck inside, or even trickier, stuck in the kitchen sink or bathtub.
After all these years, I still can’t believe I won’t wake up to this every day. It has become so normal and natural to me that adjusting back to North American life is much more difficult than the other way around.
This blog is my love letter to a place that has stolen my soul and kept it in a vice grip. It’s a stroll down memory lane, a way to hold on to it just a little bit longer. It’s not always funny or happy; it’s simply my truth. Thanks for coming along for the journey.
