Life has been beautifully full lately. Lénaïc and I have been working a lot day in and day out, balancing and cherishing everything the world has giving us. In such wish, I beg to differ on the thought that we are sitting pretty in this groovy France, no matter how much sign says we are. Albeit, and before I wait for stuff to flaunt any clue of abating, we have decided to drag ourselves to drive two hours (more than that actually, as we stop every 15 minutes on the road as it is a cardinal sin for Lénaïc/us to miss taking photos of the dainty little places most people overlook) from our home to visit these pristine and exuberant lavender fields in the small town of Mevoullion. My eyes were mesmerised as we approach the hill top, crushing and blushing on what I think is something lavish. It felt like I’m swimming in a ritzy purple yam ice cream as the towering mountains and mythical summer heat some kind of daunting me. But it’s just gloriously beautiful. It just exploded in me.
On our way there, I was quite not expecting to see more than seeing a small field of wild lavenders. Lénaïc told me they must have started to harvest everything and since it rained the night before, the tint could be a little grey-ish. We started to cross farmers driving trucks of freshly cut lavenders, started to see hanging lavenders being dried. And so we still keep on as we prolong our pseudo-cahoots, funny and intense conversation about random topics and all sorts. It (talking) has always been one of my favourite bonding with him, except when our GPS fail us! Thereupon, we finally barge in one huge field of these purple lovelies along the road, but then our two-hour driving’s not quenched by that. And so we decided to climb a little bit on top of the hill and found this attention seeking place, which is explicitly nothing short of incredible.
And even then, these postcards doesn’t really give enough justice to how beautiful the panorama is. How can I not love my new home? The thought is just more than impossible. There you go! Before I go overly sentimental about this place, I must get a bunk now for our mini road trip tomorrow to somewhere you’ll probably see first on my instagram. Bonne nuit! Or perhaps, bonjour!
photos by Lénaïc Maréchal and myself