We are winding down our workshop. We are lucky. The lavender fields are blooming early this year. While some fields are still not there yet, there are a few we find that are gorgeous.

The first one is not too far from Mas les Capelans. I show Arnie three macro shots. He suggests putting them into a triptych.

We head to another area where the fields are supposed to be good. We find one right away and spend some time there. I particularly like the three levels of colors: a field in almost-full bloom; one beyond that is paler and still coming along; and finally, a vineyard.

We continue in search of other lavender fields, but they pale in comparison, literally and figuratively, with the fields we have already photographed. Arnie and I know of a borie nearby. Bories are those round, stone shelters that shepherds built. All hand done, drywall construction, with igloo-like roofs, they are a marvel to us.

We eat a light lunch of sorbet and wine at a little café. We have come too late for lunch. It is siesta time, and as Françoise tells us, it is not so important in other parts of France, but in Provence, they like their siestas.

“Just like in Espagne,” she says in her charming accent. We all laugh.

In the afternoon, we go to Chateauneuf de Pape in search of vineyards climbing up hillsides. Anne Hughes at the winery just around the corner has told us of a beautiful winery there. Françoise comes with us. She and I sit in front, jibber-jabbering away in French. As the men describe it later, each section of the conversation was punctuated with huge belly laughs. Françoise also talks with her hands. It is very European. I am driving. It is better that I keep both hands on the wheel and eyes ahead.

We arrive at the winery and meet the PR lady. She is quite fetching in platform shoes, a quite-short, eyelet dress, and the appropriate French undergarments. As Arnie points out, the visage is even better backlit! We think she sells a lot of wine!

We find out, however, that we cannot make photos including the manor. We cannot make photos with the name of the winery in it. We cannot make photos of views down the cave, only here and there. It is disappointing, so she tours us outside, and the views are not what we are seeking. We may photograph the grove of plane trees. They are quite lovely. We are looking for vines. Tactfully, I try to explain what we need for our photographs. This happens sometimes. In shooting, there are also disappointments.

That said, we are not going to be skunked. We politely and graciously take our leave. At least Françoise has another location for her clients to visit.

We go back down the long drive and turn right. We have seen a castle with classic crenelations. We are hoping vines will lead up to it. At first, we don’t see anything that works. We head up the drive, and still no views.

“Let’s go a little further,” we agree, and there, in full splendor is the castle, the vineyard placed perfectly, with the typical, large, round, smooth stones in the field that were deposited by some ancient glacier.

It is hot, and we are tired, and we all think it is half-past wine o’clock, so we head back. We all have great shots of the castle and rows of vines. It is a good way to finish up our last full day.

For our last night with Françoise, she has something special for us, her treat. We are going to do something very French. Play Pétanque with some pastis (pass-teess), an anise liquor that is so strong, one cuts it with ten parts tap water.

“Not mineral water,” Franoise admonishes, “Only tap water.” and little goodies. Pétanque is known in other places as boules or bocce. Here, if one wins, one has to buy a round of pastis for the others. It is not cheap. It reminds me of golfers who get a hole in one.

Since Françoise has given us such a treat, we have no need of buying a round. Besides, this stuff can put you on your ear if you’re not careful. We are careful

We have a leisurely dinner under a tree in the courtyard and enjoy good conversation and laughs.

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