Eight years. A drop in the ocean in the planet’s history, time needed to reconvene with a Provençal sunrise.
There is something special with Mediterranean light. At the beginning of spring, deep blue begins to shine and weigh its seasonal hues. The odd clouds still stain its sense of azurite majesty, but with it comes a return to heat waves.
Eight years to enjoy the flowers of trees, the peach (as above in pale pink) and the cherry blossoms. Eight years ago, they felt a placebo onto a wound so deeply rooted in my heart… The kind of wound that needs that amount of time to begin to heal. The loss of a loved one inflicts such a deep hole.
Eight years to reconnect with a world and its places, people and poetics. Such amount of time allows you to rediscover it all with fresh eyes.
What a joy to step back into the old geopoetical sphere, once so familiar – from the colline and côteau to the edge of the Med & the old delta of the Rhône and its wonderful wildlife, via the majesty of Mourre Nègre, top point of Grand Luberon – Giono’s Blue Whale.
Land-, Sky-, scapes, coloured and fashioned for the one who dreams.
Eight years as if it was yesterday.
Bonnieux, Lourmarin & La Vallée d’Aigues, Camargue and Aix-en-Provence feel eternal, steeped into that ancient land. And yet, you feel au pays de la soif…
La terre, as defined by Giono, feels both generous and cruel. It fashions man in many ways. From aridity to madness.
It is certainly home to a plethora of life, wild & tamed by man… And yet it does not feel like home.
And if home is my 60N latitude, Provence remains a rite of passage in my life, with anchored love & friendships I still nurture with all my heart.
See you next year in your infatiguable blue 🙂