Lost in Arles

since 2010

Meanderings through all that makes life in a small town in Provence worth while…

After over ten years of “meandering,” it seemed like the right time to move to a proper site. Now if you have been reading me for any length of time, you might remember that I would write this with pen and ink if I could! With printed photographs! So I hope that you will bear with me as I find my way towards building a new home for us to enjoy.

My hope is to keep this particular page active…a “welcome” is never static but alive…so bienvenue!

Our Summers in Provence are uniquely their own. There is truly nowhere else in the world that exudes quite the same feeling. 

Here is a poem that I am currently working on about some of the many emotions felt here…and yes, especially in my dear Arles…

What is it to be here?

Amidst light so bright we hide
clinking glasses, long siestas
up to no good
from 12 to 4
bull tails switch
from Picasso to Cocteau
sex is rich as the sun
but hidden, not yet
begun,
so she whispers, the “Arlésienne.”

The work it rides
and calls to our
deep creativity.
Make it vibrant, yes, alive.
Spark the winter stars
until they die trying,
kissing that last wind
Mistral.
Burning our old vines
until, maybe
we are clean again.

We know our stories
And share our stones as
bone.
For this,
this garrigue sings
rosemary, thyme
and fills our breath
for sighing,
winning
somewhat laughing
eternal.
Shadows drawn long
over such everyday Antiquity
again, a living history
Is sprung.