A Painter’s Provence – Lavender, Villages & Van Gogh

In Provence, light itself feels like a gift. Dawn finds lavender fields unfurling in violet waves, cicadas singing their summer hymn. The fragrance carries on the breeze, perfuming the countryside as shutters open on pastel cottages.Hilltop villages beckon, their cobbled streets alive with markets. Baskets spill with olives, cheeses dusted in herbs, jars of honey gleaming gold. A private curator leads you through Arles, where Van Gogh found his vision. You pause at the yellow café immortalized in paint, at gardens where he sketched irises, at riverbanks where starlight once swirled across his canvas.Lunch is taken beneath the shade of plane trees, rosé chilled in your glass. Platters of ratatouille and rustic bread carry the warmth of tradition, flavors as sunlit as the land itself. As afternoon fades, the mistral wind stirs, rustling shutters and olive groves.By sunset, fields shimmer with color, sky ablaze in orange and pink. To walk Provence is to step into a living canvas, a masterpiece painted not in oil, but in fragrance, taste, and light.