It is market day almost every day, just in a different village each day. It is time to take in a market day. There is one nearby, one of the larger ones in the area, with all sorts of produce, fabrics, and in the afternoon, antiques, as this is also an antique center.

The market doesn’t start until 10, so we get there early enough to find some parking. No parking! We drive around this way and that, and we are lucky. There is a free lot. We circle the paddock with other seekers, and Arnie finally spots a space. He dives for it! It is the way things are done here. Phew! The person on the other side of the row has not seen this prize.

We walk towards the market, along the river, and across a bridge. Before we get to the little bridge, however, we get waylaid by the river itself. It is amazingly clear, more like a mountain stream than a town river. I am attracted to the reflections. They are colorful and graphic.

A blouse I have brought is older than I thought, and a seam tore the other day. I need to replace it.

It is so easy to lose track of one another in the crowded market area, so we arrange for a rendezvous by the bridge. We eventually lose one another.

I pass a display of sausissons. Duck, beef, and other flavors. They look so tempting lined up in their baskets.

There are displays of cabinet and door knobs. I think of the weight of bringing them home. The legumes (veggies) are lucious. Soaps are everywhere. Marseille soap is famous, and the city is not far away.

Bargain tables full of clothing offer good deals. They are surrounded by efficient, well-practiced ladies. There is no way I am going to survive amongst them. Instead, I find a little stand with a blouse that is just right for me. It fits perfectly, and the price is reasonable. Perhaps not as cheap as the bargain table, but all the same, I am pleased.

We all meet up and decide it’s lunch time. Besides, if one eats at a café, there is also a WC. Very practical!

Our waitress is delightful. She sees our camera gear and is impressed, but we say, as always, “It’s not the camera…” She agrees, and we talk about light and composition.

She is fascinated that we teach photo workshops and asks where we have been. She approves of our choices.

Our lunch is light and delicious. We have a carafe of house white to go with it. It is nice in the shade of the pergola, and we linger over lunch, resting our weary feet and recouping from the heat. It’s not that Provence has been hot, but in a city market, it can get quite warm. This break gives us a chance to rehydrate. Yes, we also had plenty of water!

We decide to stay another hour and Arnie and I send them off to shoot without us on each shoulder. Those who have been to our workshops will know what I mean.

I do a bit of shopping for family and friends back home. Then, I tell Arnie that I am headed back to the park by the river, and will wait for him there.

There is a vacant spot on a bench. I watch a family enjoying a picnic. An elderly gentleman is at the other end of the bench, and we occasionally smile and not at the antics of the children.

There are other things to photograph, and as I head down the side street, I get the wonderful scent of lavender. The plants are flowering early this year. This is good for us. We will have fields to photograph later in the week when more blossoms are out. But for now, I follow the delicious aroma. Around the corner is a man selling all sorts of aromatic plants. We engage in conversation. He is most interesting and relates a meeting he had with Nakai, a famous American Indian flutist. They had talked about wood and the properties of various types.

We talk about lavender, art, and natural products. He gives me a small piece of aromatic wood. I am surprised and delighted. I have only photographed him, but I shall send him some jpgs.

It is time to meet the others, so I return to my bench. Soon, I see Arnie and the rest crossing the bridge.

We head back to Mas les Capelans for imaging time. It is always good to see what one has done. Later in the afternoon, we take off for a little village with the only windmill in the area with sails still attached. The actual material is not there, but the framework for the sails is quite intact.

The light is not yet right, so we figure out where we want to be later and head down a path to a terraced grove of olive trees. The light streaming in at a low angle creates wonderful shadows. We make photographs of it. Each one will be different from the other because of where we are standing and the way we are composing.

There is a wonderful archway. Everything leads the eye to the fields and scene beyond. I photograph it, knowing I can lighten the interior a tad in post-processing.

The light is low enough so that it is time to head back to the moulin (windmill). Arnie has not seen the secret access that I found earlier.It isn’t really secret, but it certainly is not obvious. It gives us the vantage point that works for our various shots. There is also a piece of sculpture in there. Someone took an old stump and fashioned three of the branches into birds. I want to tie the sculpture to the moulin. I get down into some impossible position (many call it a version of the “Margo position”) and get the composition I want.

I love the shot, and it is an excellent way to end up the evening.

We find a little café for dinner. The aromas coming out of the kitchen are enticing. Alas, they are full. We go to the next place. “Non,” they can not possibly take us, although we see a couple of empty tables. Perhaps they are tired and decide that it is time to close. Perhaps there is no more food!

There are no other options in the village, so we head back to our inn. Françoise has a full house. We know that guests are coming in from Austria, but four more people have come in unannounced from Israel. It is late, but she takes them in.

Marie-Pierre had left, and Pierre is still in Paris. Françoise must prepare food for everyone alone. She is ever gracious, and the guests are happy. We wait patiently for a little something. She apologizes for the delay, but there is no need, as we are unexpected for dinner, too!

It is late, but it has been a really good day.

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