We all like to have our wonder worlds to dip our toes into now again, more refreshing than any summer slip of a pool. Just as the emptier the belly, the bigger the imagined feast, so it is perfect timing to get lost in a dream.
Utterly hidden in the elbow of a hill is a chapel built one thousand years ago. It is on a true no where land, far from the glamourous corners of Provence, up a track so difficult to trace that each time we visit, we drive past it blindly a few times before saying with a sigh "there."
We climb up slowly, stepping over spent bullets on this terrain de chasse or hunting grounds. As it is not the season, Ben can bounce ahead doing his bunny best to beat us, with his nose low and sniffing.
So would you like to hear our little bit of wishing? Of the drop a coin in the fountain kind?
We love the idea of reclaiming the chapel and making it into a home. We would clear the blocked out arches and replace the random rocks with steel-framed glass doors or add an extension, une véranda in which the modern conveniences could be housed.
There is plenty of room inside to build a sleeping loft above the nave, to lay out carpets and stack up books.
It would be a wonderful place to be quiet, to be forgotten.
And so we did our best to make it ours, just for an hour or so.
Ever the explorer, Remi can run on the fumes of discovery. I need more substantial fare and happily we had stopped off at a roadside bakery for our improvised picnic.
Backs resting against the solid stone, we let our minds stop doing the talking and walking.
Quiet and happiness amidst the cigales singing.
It is one of those places that puts me at ease. Maybe those prayers of so long, long ago are still hovering, protecting. But I look forward to going back. It is our little secret.
Wishing you all a wonderful weekend!