Lavander

Summer’s fun when you’re at the market

In Provence, France.

I cannot let summer pass by without a visit to this dreamy part of France. Let the photos speak for themselves.

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Driving through plane tree-lined roads,

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And lavander fields,

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The buying or just-looking crowd starts to arrive

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To linger and discuss the day’s events over coffee,

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Over croissants and sweets,

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Over jam-load of jellies,

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And juices.

Then I shop.

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Their colourful wares never fail to catch my eyes.

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I think of spaces to fill

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Or hearts to touch.

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I taste bruschetta

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Or garlic aioli and dried chiles.

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Monsieur entices you to a taste of his tapenades

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While Madame poses for another photo opportunity.

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A rule of thumb at the markets – do not touch, do not squeeze;

ask for assistance and Madam or Monsieur will gladly choose for you –

will you have it today? the next few days?

Oh yes, I’ve been ‘reprimanded’.

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The art of presentation at the market.

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The melons of Cavaillon are intoxicatingly sweet and juicy.

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There were dried fruits too.

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Those spices and their aromas fill the air.

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Which ones to go to market with?

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Then the music starts to play

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And hunger sets in

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Paella!

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Roast chickens – chicken from Brest . . . . .

Shall we take a break . . . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

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