It felt a little strange to be venturing out on my own that Saturday morning in January, taking the A8 to the Northeast to look for antiques in L’Isle Sur la Sorgue, France.
It was strange because this is a place I have usually gone to with friends, or Mr. Splendid, and usually in the the warmer months of the year.
But it was a clear and sunny day and as I flew along the autoroute I was in awe of the rugged mountains, some topped with distant churches and castles, the bucolic scenery, and that illustrious light.
After leaving the A8 at the Cavillon exit, I rambled along the rural roads,
where fields of fruit trees and grape vines looked dormant, but maybe they were just waking up to the sunshine and beginning to prepare for another season.
Remainders of the the previous season still hung on bare branches,
against ancient buildings, shuttered up for the winter.