Provence.

Comment dire...? Provence. One word for an immeasurable region of France. This year we decided to gather all of Xavier's family in the south of France, rather than at the family home Baugé. My brother-in-law - Fabien's parents sublimely restored a family farm near Avignon, adding a swimming pool and a sumptuous garden (which was already full of fruit and olive trees and lavender) for their summer home and this is the spot of our sojourn in Provence. The one true deficiency of the Côte d'Azur is the inundation of people during the summer months. Avignon - or more precisely, Eyragues, is the opposite. Yes, this region also gets flooded by tourists and when we went to the market in Saint Rémy de Provence this morning, it was clear that we were not surrounded by locals. However, the vast fields of Provence remain and space is still a superfluidity here. We have been venturing out to villages and abbeys and markets, but the house is worth an unescorted post.









Colette is having the time of her life spending her days strutting naked in the shade of the beautiful sycamores that line the front of the house and romping on the first step of the swimming pool. We are all under a spell of fascination watching her negotiate between French and English. She repeats like a monkey and when her Marie ("Na-ie!") repeats 'jaune' - she says it right back with her. Sleep is French - doudou (her blankey) and dodo (sleep). Food is in between ("nilk" is milk - with a scrunched up nose) and the rest is a lot of pointing and single-sylable attempts at words. Body parts are English - although she knows them all by reference in French too. We have been riding in the car more than we do in New York and when we tell her we are going for a ride she puts on a pair of pouty lips and shakes her booty back and forth (Papa plays DJ and Colette is a fan).

















Poolside picnics - concluding with a Tropezienne...what could be better? (A very serious question).




Fabien and Colette discuss: on est bien ici.