Lourmarin is ready for Fête de Noël. Frosty white fir trees have appeared along our petite rue below a canopy of lights.
Throughout the village, once night has fallen, these fine strings of twinkle line the streets in rows of sparkling ribbons.
The stores are full of Christmas treasures and stay open later to help the busy shoppers.
Amongst ancient, stone buildings, along narrow, cobbled streets, somehow everything appears just that bit more entrancing.
Enticing seasonal settings
to celebrate the time of year.
Opening the shutters to find the world transformed by a soft, powdery, icing sugar dusting of snow completed the enchantment.
Bundled in up in scarves and mittens I tried to encapsulate my fairy tale village adorned in a winter gown.
Almost expecting ‘Mr Tumnus’ to be hiding behind the lamp posts
and from the church, the sweet voices of children in the village choir. It felt as if Lourmarin was preparing for her very own Christmas story.
For as we ventured out, driving only a short distance, the snow seemed to have only fallen on Lourmarin. Beautiful elsewhere but not quiet as magical.
The streets of Saint-Rémy-de-Provence were lined with les sapins; fir trees adorned with satin, bows and bells.
The shop windows were bedecked in seasonal finery, both in Saint-Rémy
Our lovely Rue de la Grande Bourgade, where we’d once lived in Uzès, looking more festive than any other.
A truly special part of the world at any time of year and one which was hard to tear ourselves away from.
Packing our suitcases we prepared ourselves for our journey home. No deserted stables or donkeys but crowded airport terminals and rental cars; no reindeer driven sleighs but enormous metal birds quite equally miraculous to transport us back across the skies. We’re returning to our other home, briefly pausing in that treasured place where we are from before taking off again to a very different place but also a very special one. This English girl in love with Provence is finally going ‘home’, ‘home’ for the Holidays……….