A Sunday Drive in Early Spring

It has been an unusually cold and rainy spring here.  The mimosa on the village square that has usually lost its blooms by March has lasted all the way into mid-April. That tree is such a brilliant and definite yellow that since I first saw it, I've never been able to hear the word "yellow" without thinking of it.

I've been putting my vases of tulips and ranunculus on the windowsill at night to keep them fresh and turning the heaters on first thing in the morning before bundling up to go downstairs to make coffee. All around, the twisted branches of the plane trees and vines seem especially bare now that wildflowers are blooming at their feet and they seem ready to get dressed. By this time last year, the vines were fluffy with pale green leaves and I was sleeping with the windows thrown wide open.

So I and my friend visiting from Italy were especially grateful Sunday for a warm and sunny day that encouraged us to hit the road. The excuse were visits to the flea markets in Roix and Le Tour, but all along the way we meandered, stopping to admire an almond tree so white it seems to glow or shoot pictures of fields blanketed with eye-popping blue flowers that made me feel a little better about missing the bluebonnets this year in Texas (which, I hear, are stunning after a couple of pretty thin years).

Then, alarmingly, it was 1 p.m. and we were hungry and if you don't find a place to eat in southern France before they stop serving at 2 on Sunday then your options for food -- like those bluebonnets in years past -- are thin on the ground.  We raced for the nearest town, Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, which I normally try to avoid. Isle is a famous tourist destination and there are times in the summer when you hear more English spoken than French. The Sunday market is large and varied and includes a substantial number of antiques vendors, befitting a town whose economy is built on selling very nicely polished items at sky high prices. In the summer, you can't park, can't find a table for lunch, can't get through the crowds and anyway, why bother when there are so many wonderful places to go?  But this Sunday in Isle reminded me of why it became such a popular destination in the first place.

We ate beside the canal that encircles the island ("isle"), the water glass green, swiftly flowing and transparent, allowing a view of small fish and graceful water grasses.  The sun was warm, there were relatively few tourists, the crowd at the cafe was relaxed and lively, and as the vendors took down their tents and came in for lunch, the joking and wine increased in volume.  Then the music started, a committed accordionist of the old school providing drama, humor and the perfect soundtrack for this little piece of paradise.

Finally, it felt like spring.