Shared Stories: Peggy Lunde

After many years of penning this blog, I have come to know many of you and if you have been following me and reading the comments you probably know each other too.
During Christmas, many of you shared your home’s Christmas decor which gave us another glimpse of you. I enjoyed that so much that I want to continue putting forth ways for us to connect. If you have a personal story that you would want to share please send it to me at

coreyamaro@aol.com

Shared Stories number 6

 

The British author, Peter Mayle describes me best; I am not a scholar.  Rather, a dreamer, one who crowds a collage of perfectionistic photos; then places them (complete with fragrance and aroma) percolating and illustrated 'on location' in my fixated fantasy land; recently, Provence.

MP and I dove into the deep end; during September we settled in a small out-of-the-way village, Saint-Zacharie, nestled in the hills of Provence-Alps-Cote d’Azur at the foot of Saint Baume Massif.

Rooted in remote mind-boggling history, the sweet hamlet is located on the edge of the Huveaune River, flowing with life-giving water and mythical fairy lore.  

Off the beaten track, without a monument, museum, or lavish fête insight: its proximity to the sea, countryside, and terraced medieval towns make a seamless dot from which to ‘slow travel’.

Without an agenda, we settled into a ‘guardian house’ attached to a massive 300-year-old home situated in a walled garden. There, notable trees, trailing vines, and hiding bushes–according to Arnaud who spent boyhood holidays in the garden– speak to each other and applaud the towering, Au Grand Cedre, who claps his hands, and in a deep voice dominates over them all, I imagine.

We slept well and took time to listen to cooing doves, French schoolchildren on the boulevard below, and dwell between the bells of St. Zac chiming on the hour (if you forget to count, a re-chime occurs a moment later); a pure melodic heartbeat signaling a call to set aside unspoiled mealtime, to worship, to celebrate, and to mourn.

A zillion trails in fragrant forests, some steep strewn with rocks and steps, others with wide-open red soil, and sheer cliffs led us to Calanques de Cassis, carrying us over 90 miles in 25 days.

We experienced unhurried days, simple pleasures of daily baguettes, hand-held quiche, delectable pastries, and fresh green markets touting bright juicy melons.  

We wandered toward colorful cities, cathedrals, synagogues, rows of brocante wonders, even an endless cheese trolley, which propelled us to be ever-present.

Our senses were seduced, our bellies indulged; we were cared for with only a few words of French in our quiver.  Unassuming ambassadors, respecter guests of another culture, we knew if we were polite, kind, able to laugh at ourselves, puff appropriately, shrug, and hold an open palm of coins when the math eluded us, spontaneous bouts of infectious laughter ensued–buying mosquito repellant in the pharmacy comes to mind.

Doors widened; new friendships tendered vulnerable conversations, and old-fashioned genteel correspondences came about.

Therefore, short of a novel, I posted an abridged summation of our treks, food foibles, and triumphs on social media with photos and comments. Many of you tagged along, which presented a superhighway moving picture postcard of inspiration.  When we left St. Zac for Paris at the end of the trip (another thunderous bolt for the oozing senses), 

I wrote this of our 20 days.

Our last day in St. Zac meant pack… we lingered a little longer when our neighbors invited us to share a lunch of purplish-green artichokes (with the biggest hearts), sliced beets, soft creamy cheeses, and a sourdough baguette around the Provencal table below the grand cedar in the garden. 

Being o'so polite, I took a few pictures of our new friends. I dragged my bag, feet, and heart to the gate, looked up to lime green pomegranates and yet to flower wisteria vines; equally green. A source close to the garden said, "Stay until we bloom”.

Pinch me! Thank you, Corey and Yann for your generous spirits' and mischievous gifts– ♥

 

(Note: The tiny house belongs to our dear friends and it remains a vacation rental. If you are interested in knowing more please let me know and I will put you in touch with Eric and Corinne.)



Comments

8 responses to “Shared Stories: Peggy Lunde”

  1. OH MY GOSH HOW DREAMY just the thing on a grey cold January day on the east coast. i adore every sight smell and tactile image shared.

  2. Me too. It’s like a dream come true. Love your descriptions.

  3. Ah yes, I remember the tiny house. I’d love to stay there one day.
    Sounds like you had a lovely 20 days.

  4. Gorgeous piece well written I felt as if I were there.
    Thanks for sharing
    Blessings
    Thanks Corey for sharing all of these postings and of course your own

  5. Texasfrancophile

    How interesting!!!! Can’t imagine 20 days of leisure and fun in the little slice of heaven called Provence. You write beautifully, thank you for sharing. Would love to follow you on social media. Is that possible?

  6. Wonderful! Thanks so much for sharing your story.

  7. Thank you for taking us on this lovely Provencale interlude.

  8. bob Lunde

    I am the “MP” in this commentary by My Soul mate and wife, Coco. The 20 days was blessed and magical with food and exploring adventures at every turn. The commentary is a whisper of the all the adventures we experienced out of St Zac.

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