Easter Sunday, and I've taken a week off work to spend time with family in Provence.
The weather, although warmer than Blighty, is still cool even with clear azure blue skies when Le Mistral blows in, yet I have still braved a few morning dips in the pool.
This is a rugged, handsome part of France combining mountainous areas falling away into green, luscious landscapes all of which are punctuated by field upon field of perfectly manicured vines, lines of lavender bushes or other lush green field blooming and flowering weeks ahead of anything we might have at home. Amongst these fields are borders of poppies "le coquelicot" iridescent splashes of vivid red adding incidental beauty to this varied landscape.
It seems you can take the girl out of the workshop but not the florist out of the girl. I find myself drinking in all the floral details, from nosing though the windows at the local "floriste" to admiring the just gathered seasonal flowers displayed in all the shops and restaurants. Lilac is everywhere, lots of pretty iris too growing in just about every garden throughout the region. I love the natural seasonal tendencies the French instinctively incorporate into their everyday lives, much more inclined to buy seasonal foods and flowers than we Brits, although I think this is a slow burn we are gradually improving on back home. I'm also particularly loving the wisteria clad stone doorways this region boasts so many of.
Now that my batteries are almost recharged, the pre programmed early morning waking is beginning to wane and gastronomic excesses of the holiday starting to tell, I'm beginning to look forward to the coming weeks ahead in my little workshop; with at least twenty weddings between now and mid summer, there's so much to look forward to.
Joyeuses Pâques flower friends.