Oh my Gordes

Some French villages are real. They have prospered and struggled with the ages and the ebb and flow of humans – the traits of the inhabitants varying as much as the quantity. One century, a byroad brings trade and wealth. The next war and desolation. Children leave for the big smoke. Families return for the…

The Purple Haze of Provence

It’s like solidified ultra-violet rays. Lavender coats the hills of Provence in shades of blue, indigo and violet. Corduroy streaks the hills, pausing at cypress windbreaks, timeworn abbeys and native forest. The plants form a playground for impossibly cute animals – bumblebees as fluffy as persian cats, plump field bunnies and chittering, swooping swallows. But…

Les voleurs

All I can remember are a pair of tanned legs, dark shorts, white socks and runners leaping out the door. The next image is of two strapping youths leaping the 7-foot fence, one after the other – the latter heaving my laptop over at the first to cover it. Blank again until I ran out…