How’s life now?

Hi Lewis, You asked me, “How’s life?” and I felt like giving you a fuller answer than what we can usually manage on WhatsApp… So I took a little tour around “life here” — meaning where life happens, around us, but within a small radius. I didn’t go beyond the road — at least at first.

Well, life here is going like this: Today, we took in a kitten (who we hope is a she). She doesn’t have a name yet, but Loisel is looking for something Japanese. I’m not quite sure about that, considering the mother cat is called Tsuki (which means “Moon” in Japanese) — it might be a bit too kitschy. We’ll see. Anyway, Loisel spent the whole afternoon glued to the tiny cat in the living room. At the same time, it pulls him away from the documentaries he watches on repeat — whatever the subject, he devours Knowledge like someone starving.

It has to be said: the weather here is extremely hot at the moment. Just to give you an idea, the school has asked us to send a change of clothes and a towel for tomorrow — they’re expecting temperatures above 40°C. With heat like this going on for a week now, most of life happens indoors, where it’s cool, or in the water — though the pool is starting to get a bit warm too — and at work. The nights are still relatively cool, but we can feel it getting less and less fresh in the mornings. Hopefully it’ll break with some thunderstorms on Tuesday.

The rest of life, then, takes place outside — whenever it’s not Sahara-level hot. I’ve managed to grow a lovely little vegetable garden that I’m quite proud of, I admit! We ate our first yellow zucchinis yesterday, and tonight we’ll have my first green lettuce — the first one I planted and pampered myself here in Provence, where the sun can be so… scorching!

I’m also super happy that the Egyptian carob seeds I planted sprouted a few days ago. Carob trees will grow here in Saint-Michel — maybe we’ll be able to make some kind of homemade pseudo-chocolate! The baby carob trees are still in the greenhouse/veranda at the entrance to the kitchen. It’s lovely in winter, a furnace right now… but carob likes heat and humidity — like mint and basil, which grow happily together here, right next to the still.

Step out of the greenhouse, and the usually cool terrace has become a stone oven — I could almost bake bread on it at noon. The little upstairs terrace is still usable in the evening and morning — that’s where I am right now, and luckily there are no mosquitoes. We’ve set up the white parasol with blue patterns — the one patched up with an old yurt canvas that I used at weekly markets in the Alps. It stands proudly above, waiting for a new season to begin someday. I still hope to do a small fair this summer, between my time in the Kitchen. In Saint-Michel, there’s a night market every Friday evening during the two summer months — maybe we could showcase our pottery, soaps, incense, and hydrosols there, don’t you think?

Come, I’ll take you on a little walk around where life happens! When you step out, you come face to face with our trusty van — still ugly and dirty, but brave. It’s waiting for new adventures, hopefully in the high mountains — I need arnica flowers for my balms, the one I have left is getting old. Opposite the van, in a corner, is the caravan (my soap-making lab), also waiting for me to start making soaps and shampoos again. But neither of those likes the heat… so… it’ll wait a bit longer.

Oh! I wanted to show you our chickens! Well, the chickens we share with Roger, to be precise. And for the past few weeks, we’ve had chicks! It’s Nonnette, the little black hen, who’s playing the mother hen. Orage, Chantilly, and Mimille (the grey, the white, and the red hens) do their usual chicken stuff — eating and laying eggs and guano. They stay cool and sheltered under the bamboo Roger planted there — must be thirty years ago now — and I think they’re the most beautiful bamboo in the whole region. We could make mugs from the thickest ones.

If you go left, past the tractor (Roger’s — he’s teaching me, but really, it’s still his toy), you reach my little veggie garden where, as you can see, the lettuces and zucchinis aren’t suffering too much from the scorching sun — at least not yet, but it’s coming. I water every evening, even after work, and honestly, I’m proud and tired.

Next to the garden are Roger’s two mares (yes, him again — feels like we live at his place). The albino chestnut one is named Vega, and the white one is Brise (like Little Wind). They’re always happy to see me — they love company, sweet words whispered in their ears, gentle strokes on their muzzles, and the French baguettes I sometimes bring back from work.

And if you go a bit further, you reach the limit of the “life” we’re living right now: the road that leads to Saint-Michel. The landscape opens up, and we often watch the clouds passing by (when there are any). The wheat field is ripe now, and the lavender is just starting to bloom.

Yes, it’s really beautiful, I have to admit. Back at the house, we always spend some time in the pottery workshop — it’s fully functional now. A few pots I fired are waiting for me to launch the online shop, and we work there whenever we can. So that’s how life is going here, now… We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but right now, we love it all — because it feels like anything is possible, like everything is within reach. In fact, it’s all already here. It’s been a huge amount of work, and I’ve realized I’ve been exhausting myself trying to do everything at once…

Because at the same time, yes, I work in the kitchen at the Astro Center a few minutes away by bike, I take Loisel to the pool (Roger’s pool, indeed), and I help… Roger however and whenever I can. You really have to meet this man — he has so many stories to tell, little things from all around the world, between 1940 and today.

Yes, we’re living in a little paradise! And you know, we have a spare room, attached to the house next to the caravan. Just say when you’re coming — and it’ll be yours, for as long as you want.