French la Vie

I often marvel — quietly, with gratitude — at how many of you have found your way to me, to this little corner of Provence, through the winding path of the brocante.

It’s not just about the things we find — though they do speak, don’t they? Handwritten letters, a linen sheet, a Madonna with a chipped nose… Each holds a whisper of a life once lived, and somehow, you understand that. That’s why you come.

You follow me through villages and vineyards, into the arms of the French countryside, but more than that — our stories connect. Yours, mine, ours.

What has following your path brought you?

For many of you, it has brought you here. Into a week where time stretches and softens. Into homes where shutters creak open like a welcome. Into kitchens where the herbs were picked that morning and the cheese came from the neighbor. Into gardens with grapes still warm from the sun.

It has brought you into conversations over meals that seem to go on forever — not because of the number of courses, and there are plenty, but because nobody wants to leave the table.

You’ve walked into homes not styled for magazines, simply lived in — truly lived in. Places where you feel at home, wrapped in the warmth, a crooked paintings hung by heart that makes you smile and want to straighten, olive oil stains on the tablecloths.

You’ve met my friends, my family, my community. You’ve sat at the same table we do. Shared wine, laughter, stories, sometimes quiet, sometimes shared tears.

And what I find over and over is this:

We are more alike than we are different. Not just because we dig old things, that certainly helps but it’s more than that.

We come with our histories, our humor, our hope our hearts- and in this strange, beautiful thing called the brocante, we find one another.

This journey — through Provence, through the brocante, together, digging through boxes, riding in the van, sharing meals, laughing at the inside jokes that we create with one another, meeting friends from different states and places, wondering how we’re going to get what you bought home, always figuring it out, and sleeping like rocks and waking up ready to go!

It is felt. I think that’s the thing we just share so much with one another. It’s intimate it’s lovely it’s real. I guess that’s why people keep coming back.

And it stays with you, and me.

That’s the magic of it all: the people, the path, the poetry of ordinary moments made unforgettable by sharing them with each other.

Thank you for being a part of my blog, for joining me on our Journeys together, for trusting me, and more than anything for being beautiful you!