Tuesday in Le Brusc

As we wake up from a long, solid night of sleep, we can hear the doves cooing outside the door. Our cottage is still dark within its shuttered rooms. As Jim flings open the shutters, we take in that first glimpse of morning sun, deep blue sky and mild air. In this area of France, along the Mediterranean, the sun is more often out than not. And it’s not the sun of northern Indiana; it comes in with its own set of colours, painting the landscape with a vey specific palette.

After a breakfast of pastries, baguette and coffee, it’s time to soak in the warmth that we haven’t had for awhile. We read and laze out on the little patio, taking our time. Then, we put on our walking shoes and head down the hill toward the blue and turquoise Mediterranean sea. The wind is blowing in off the water and a lone windsurfer is sliding across the light waves. Our walk follows the water’s edge and takes us to the little island on the far tip of this cape.

Out on the point, it’s all water and rocks, a beautiful landscape with everchanging light. We take deep breaths of sea air and are mesmerized by the continuous motion of the water. We smell rosemary and pine and listen to the sound of the waves crashing.

On the way home, we stop at the boulangerie where we pick up a loaf of bread and some dessert. It’s time to go home and cook, then put our feet up.