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The story of my passion
When you were born in the Alpilles mountains, when your grand-parents bring you up to the sound of seasons, then you cannot uproot yourself from that land.
Spring in Provence means olive and fruit trees blossoming in the orchards of the vallée des Baux.
You can hear the inhabitants chatting about the crop to come in the villages around whether it be Maussane- les- Alpilles or les Baux de Provence. The Mistral wind is greeted for the lands in full bloom whereas morning frost is blamed for those which are not so.
My grand-mother used to say,"Blossoming is jealous, this year".Honey is made from all the flowers blooming in Provence with bees flying from one to the other.
Summer in Provence means the arrival of all kinds of fruit.
All the markets of Provence are brimming with the colours and smells of local products. In this area of the Alpilles, each and everyone of us has a cherry-tree, an apricot-tree, a fig tree, an apple-tree or a pear-tree in their garden. What pleasure it is then to watch for the riping of fruit every morning and then on the very day to pick them up, to take a proud bite or bake a delicious fruit cake (the famous "clafoutis") the whole family will delight in!
But mind the greedy birds (les agaces!) that are also on the look-out for the treasures of fruit-trees!
My grand-father used to tell me, "my dear little one, let us make a scarecrow, otherwise the magpies might eat the whole crop".
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