A billow of thyme releases underfoot as I step out of the car, stretching my crashing xylophone nerves, the tension of le départ. As has happened on our previous escapes to the Luberon, Remi and I are somehow on the cusp of a fight over nothing, as if we were overly eager to dive into the release of les vacances. Slow down, Heather. There is nothing but a big stretch of time rolling out in front of us like a magic carpet.
The carpet of earth–pliny greens that bend, miniscule buds blossoming and twigs that crackle underfoot–pulls my focus downwards. Or maybe it was just the thyme that has whispered me in.
Regardless, every millimetre is my garden to scan and wonder, “How different” from the pavement usually shoring under my feet.
It seems to be a welcoming gift.
We turned off the road near Joucas, then on to another and finally on to a dirt path that crests on a small rise. Hidden but the same as all of the countryside around us. Nothing special and yet…
…for a moment the size of the world seems to inverse with the prickles of sensations that arise.
We flip down the back of the Range Rover to let the dogs run. I unpack the picnic quickly bought but carefully chosen and watch the small smile of approval as Remi looks over the delectables spread out on the blanket. I knew he would be pleased. We eat quietly, occasionally scolding Ben and Kipling for their insistent begging, something they would never dare do at home.
As Remi finishes his millefeuille, I pick up my camera and stray back towards the old stone wall that had initially said, “Turn Here.” Scraggly vines point accusingly at a cloud cover that is trying to break but failing. I don’t mind.
For I am content to be in the sous-bois, that French term that is so much lovelier than the English ‘underbrush’ and am reassured that no matter what lies ahead, I have already sipped my fill of beauty, pure.
I want to close my eyes, inhale the different scents rising from the rich earth of the underbrush and do nothing but imagine the beauty of the Luberon. Pictures are beautiful as always. Thank you Heather!
xx Amelia
Crete! Jackie, I am green with envy. I have always wanted to go…
Merci, D. I find much comfort in the extreme beauty of the small…
I imagine it to be so, Lisa. How different your corner of Italy is from what so many of us imagine…I am loving discovering it through your eyes…
That is really, really kind of you Ann. Merci et Bo W-E à toi aussi!
You've captured my imagination even as I sit in a virtual paradise in Crete. Lovely photos as usual!
Poésie…
There's something about what grows wild and the renewal of the seasons in Nature. Divine.
How beautiful and I found myself fascinated by the multitudes of insects scurrying about in the fields near the house. Nature here is wild and bold x
Lovely shots of one of my favorite parts of the world. Nature's details are amazing (like the dewdrops on clover) and your photographer's eye so tender and observant, Heather. Bon weekend!
It is so true, Debbie. I was also happy to see the wild chives that were on my childhood farm in Ohio growing rampant there too!