The bells are clanging heavily as I pass under the tower of Saint Trophime with my trusted companion, Ben, our Golden Retriever. A group of locals, recognizable for their unwillingness to look at anyone else, huddle together on the church steps. A Sunday morning in Provence. Ben and I wander the streets, strewn with garbage due to the current strike, both of us hunting for an open bakery. Inside De Moro, the owner announces that the Mistral, our Northern winds that both inspired Vincent Van G. and drove him mad, would attack in full force tomorrow. “They say they will reach 110 kilometers per hour. Best to stay inside.” Realizing that the equivalent in miles per hour was that equal to a small hurricane, I pull my Max Mara cardigan a little tighter around my shoulders as I share the end of the baguette with Ben on the way home. Yes, it is definitely Fall, my favorite season.
Now I am snuggled into my club chair in this wonderful apartment that we are renting while we look for a new house to buy. Or not. We love this incredible space so much it is difficult to imagine leaving. What a year it has been–selling our house and gallery, losing my Dad. I am definitely wandering, not only these streets of Arles that I have come to love so much since moving here in 2005, but also looking for that next step, that sign of the direction of what is next for me. A good a day as any, then to start a blog and share my experiences of living in Provence that I find along the way…
