Summer mornings in Provence are unlike any other. At 5:45 I would awake to the first light of the day beginning to stream in through our French doors, and would quietly get dressed, grab my camera, and head outside on foot to capture the beauty of the day. In those early hours of the morning, I felt like I had the entire countryside to myself. I would wander through the dew covered grass, and watch, in awe, as the light changed from a twilight blue to the palest of pinks to a warm, golden glow.
Sometimes I would hop into our car and drive down the poppy-lined Provençal roads, getting purposely lost just to see what new area I would stumble upon. In just the few kilometers that our home was located I found vineyards, elegant chateaus, ancient farm houses, rolling hills, a tiny hill town, and rolling pastures as far as the eye could see.
One day, while in the village of Rians I saw a beautiful stone house, surrounded by an extraordinarily beautiful rose garden. Of course I couldn’t resist snapping a few photos, and as I was doing so the owner walked outside, and invited me into his garden. We conversed in broken French, and he introduced me to his wife and his dog. The three of them gave me a tour of their garden, and we would laugh together as their adorable little white dog would bark and prance for our attention.
As we hugged and cheek-kissed goodbye (so French) they handed me a bouquet overflowing with roses and peonies that they had just cut from their garden, and a jar of cherry confit that they had made. I left with tears streaming down my face and was reminded, yet again, that experiences like that are the reason that I just love traveling.
Images by Provence Film Photographer Molly Carr Fine Art Photography | Contax 645 | Fuji 400h