LAVENDER FIELDS FOREVER….

• July 14, 2010
• Mari Bickmore
• 4 comments

Le Cordiere – Our Gite in Lourmarin

Well, gentle readers, I have been to Provence in the spring, when the flowers were blooming and the Mistral swept down from the mountains cleansing everything in its path. Spring with bold blue skies and promise of newness in the air and I fell in love. Then I returned to see Provence in the Fall, still tasting the summer warmth in the air with the blazing colors of a bounteous harvest at the village markets and orchards redolent with apples. A collage of sight, smell and sound emblazoned in my memories. You don’t have to dig far in your imagination to know why artists and poets have been drawn to this little piece of God’s green earth.

Now I am here to tell you that the lavender fields of summer are amazing. Traveling along the winding

Lavender Fields In Provence

roads, up and down and to and from the perched villages, the fields are checkered with a vibrancy of purple that is mesmerizing. It was so mesmerizing, that amidst our photo shoots, we had to take a little lavender too. In fact, there was this one field that was so much more electric purple than all the others we had seen. The Bs and Amanda went to take pictures, but I was waiting in the car this time (after dozens of fields it was welcome to wait). I guess it was so tantalizing, just too much, that B2 just had to have some of this forbidden fruit. BUSTED. Just as they got to the car and threw the bouquet in the trunk, out of nowhere races this little white van and the farmer jumps out of it and runs to the car yelling “Vous me couper les lavande! Pourquoi?” Beverly tried to apologize and offered to pay, but he was way too mad for that. Oops….

Meanwhile, the other Beverly, BS, had hightailed it the opposite direction. Only when the coast was clear did we see her face and had to go down the road to pick her up. Those of you who know her will appreciate this part of the story! Wish that had been caught on film.

Blazing Lavender, AKA Forbidden Fruit

Speaking of markets, we had hit L’Isle sur La Sorgue the day previous to this. This has to be my favorite market of all, which is why this is my fourth trip here. It is situated up in a delightful town  right on the Sorgue River. There are cheeses that are lined up to be tasted and are scrumptious. I love that word and it is very appropriate here. There are lots of sacissons (sausages), many with the aroma of smelly feet. I typically don’t try these. But the best melons in the world are Cavaillon melons. They are similar to a cantaloupe but smaller and the flavor is much more intense. In 1864, the Cavaillon library asked writer Alexander Dumas to donate some 400 volumes of his work to the town. He complied on one condition — that he be given a dozen melons every year. Until his death in 1870, the author received his supply. So you know that must be good.

Sights at the Sorgue Market

The peaches are great, the strawberries, the watermelon. It’s all there amidst the locally-made soaps (especially love the lavender and almond), the bright Provencal fabrics and pottery. It snakes along the river and down into the winding streets of the town. There are singers on corners and vendors hawking their wares. It is a sensation! I didn’t make it to the antique stores this year, but they are only a street over and have wonderful finds, but not cheap ones.  I know when I am home I will wish I had insisted on going into at least one of them.

On our way back we took a couple of side trips.  One to the Gorges de la Nesque, which was quite stunning.  As far as the other, we were quite hungry, having basically missed lunch, so we saw a sign for fresh goat cheese and make a sharp right — just 2.5 km down the road.  Well, if you could call it a road, more than a well marked trail, that got worse.  That was a really slow 2.5 km.  The further back we got the more I could hear the theme from Deliverance reverberating in my brain.  Then Hotel California came on the radio.  This much I can say, we did survive and came out with some pretty good goat cheese.  The other thing I can say is, “Yes, hillbillies are alive and well in southern France.”

Gorges de la Nesque

Well, signing off for the night as we have an early day tomorrow. Enjoy!