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I was in need of a view. Arles, despite its charms, can be claustrophobic. Closed in by Roman walls and an old-fashioned mentality, it can feel almost like living on an island. At times I need to move beyond the barriers to breathe. 

We all have our magic places. Whether it be the fort made under the dining room table or a solitary stretch of beach on the other side of the planet, there are certain spaces that just make us feel at home with ourselves. 

I know how lucky I am to have several such spots right here in Provence. Areas that resonate beyond beautiful. 

We only had a bit of time. Remi had worked all day and at present I can count the moments of the sunset on my fingers and toes. So I asked for a sure thing, rather than go exploring. A certain lieu that never fails to put a smile on all of our faces.

There is a trail that starts just before the Dalmeran winery in St.-Etienne-de-Gres, one nibbled on by the rains and rough with rocks.  But at the first turn, the ascent opens to a sweep across the Vallée du Rhone. And then I can let out a long exhale. 

Already a creeping feeling of something mysterious mounts at the back of my neck. Moss-covered steps lead up to a cave dwelling that has housed who knows how many way-ward travellers, shepherds and bandits. And yet there is nothing frightening here.

Time to keep moving on, to make the most of the lingering light. Ben has bounded ahead, with his most  frenetic bunny hop, back paws swinging side to side, ears flapping. He turns to egg me on and up.

Once I make that last push to arrive at the back of the church, I always do the same thing: sit down on the grass and watch. The light, the birds flying over head, Ben rolling on his back in delight.

Remi is usually taking photos. Me too. But then I settle in and let the quiet wash over me. Always, always that gift of…peace. 

I know that I have said it before, but it bears repeating how grateful I am to have you all here. For the connections that we have made and the happiness shared.

I am feeling especially blessed this year actually. For my wonderful Remi, my charmer Ben, my beautiful Sister and my adventurous Mom. For our health and that the wheel of fortune seems to be creaking in to a turn. We just might make a special meal tonight but if not I don’t mind. The warm glow in my heart is all that really matters on this special day.

A beret of gray capped the sky as I opened the shutters this morning. Monday, Monday, Monday after a weekend that disappeared with a puff. I had slept poorly, stifled by odd dreams. Not even the cinnamon-scented coffee that I clutched in my chilled hands could pull me towards a decent mood. And then the buzzer rang. “Oui, bonjour?” I croaked out groggily. “C’est la Poste, j’ai un colis pour vous.” Really? Instantly, the prospects of the day brightened. 

When I saw whom the package was from, my heart did a little loopity-loop. I ran back up to the second floor, lifting it above the reaches of Ben, who was waiting for me impatiently, doing that sly tail wag that makes a Golden golden. Cardboard ripping followed by careful unraveling of tightly tied string and voila! My friend Brooke Giannetti had surprised me with a beautifully dedicated copy of the book that she has created with her husband and partner, Steve Giannetti, Patina Style. Do you know Brooke and her exceptional blog, Velvet & Linen? I am assuming that you do, as she is a well-known figure, especially in the small big world of blogging. But the journalist in me says, “never assume” so if by chance you don’t, by all means click over…just as soon as you have finished this post (ah-hem).

Brooke inspires me–and we are talking about in the every day variety–not only by what she does but also by who she is. In our cynical, rough and tumble culture, we all need reminders that yes, hard work does pay, sometimes the good guy finishes first, not last and even if our best hatched plans go awry, it is not the end of the world. Despite her success, she is consistently generous with her time and efforts–including having mentioned me and this blog (despite it’s being so small), which might just be the reason why some of you are here. Hurrah! She is one of the people that I consider myself lucky to know, even though we haven’t met…yet.

The book that she and Steve have made truly comes from the heart and is a paean to their appreciation of the imperfect, the well-lived. The girl in me who identified heavily with the Island of Misfit Toys can’t help but appreciate this but it equally appeals to my aspirations towards a simplified elegance that has nothing to do with a big budget. In a time where showplaces rule, they are more interested in creating welcoming environments where good experiences are waiting to happen, a balm to our hectic world. There is nothing pretentious in their aesthetic, nor do they dumb down to reach a wider public. If I have peaked your curiosity (and I hope that I have), the book can be found at:

or

After being sold out for months, it is indeed in stock. Just in time…

However, one thing really worth mentioning is the respect that I have for my Mom. Well, always but most certainly today. For she is taking off on a three-week journey through Nepal and India to retrace where Buddha lived. I am so proud of her (and all of us) that decide to keep taking the risks that are right in front of our noses and are all the scarier for it. 

It is not an obvious or easy choice for my Mom to have made but one born out of a certain or uncertain necessity. Similarly, I love to look at Ben, using his sniffer to guide him as he goes. That is the best of life, when we unfold our stubborn cardboard wings to dare, if not to fly, then at least to stand expanded. 

This is going to be a very short post as I am heading back up to la region parisienne for a couple more days of photo shoots. But look at this little potato. Now, I ask you, are you as superstitious as I am? I couldn’t bring myself to cut it! What if it really was a little heart? A symbol for our love? No, best to take the silly route and leave it whole just in case. It got me thinking to my many tiny rituals, little gestures that I have to help keep my universe in order. True, as a former actress, I tend towards the highly superstitious. No crossing under ladders, no crossing black cats, and I always have to say “I love you” before getting off the phone with my dear ones. 

And you?

Remi and I were walking through Disneyland Paris. Night had just fallen. We were tired and tripping over our feet, trying to weave through the crowds. Suddenly the loud speakers barked out an announcement: “Please welcome Princess Aurora and her court!” White lights tracked to a stage that was instantly filled with dancers dressed in full Louis XIV regalia. The music began to swell. 

Despite myself, I started to sway in the dark, embarassed at first at my sentimental behaviour. Then I gave in and drank down the memories from long ago, covered by the shadows cast by a too full moon. For childhood still lives in us if we let it. We all know this. The capacity to wonder…by beauty so close it is a second skin…

I hope that you have enjoyed this second set of photos of Aix-en-Provence. It is no Disneyland, it is a real, bustling town but it can have the same effect for an adult like me. Both are most certainly worth the visit, for we all need to let ourselves dream now and again…