Into week four in Provence and feeling a bit local though each sentence I utter has a least one Spanish word and two German words, often with a few rolled r’s added for good measure.

We arrived to an early Provincial spring with the wisteria out but few leaves yet on the trees and vines. The plane trees were brutally pruned down to lumpy stumps and looked pretty terrible. Over the three weeks, the landscape has transformed to vista of greens; light green, mid green, yellow green, blue greens… my palette does not stretch that far. I have dreamt of the early morning light that so beguiled the impressionists, but have not managed to get up to experience one crisp morning. Some days we don’t leave the apartment till after 2 pm and four warm baguettes, two coffees and a couple of pot set yoghurts.

Apart from sightseeing, we have been stocking up on all things fatty and porky at the twice weekly market and bought some stinky cheese that makes Appenzeller (my parent’s local stinky cheese) smell like ricotta. Everytime I opened the fridge, I gagged. But it tasted great. I have been trying some ‘new’ french recipes, Boeuf Bourguignon, and aparagus and leek tart. I also did a Carnard Magret, which was fabulous with the pear wine sauce. It was only after the scrumptious meal that I learnt that these are the ducks force fed for the foie gras. Hmmm, my greens credentials are waning with every sentence.

I have been trying to see some contemporary art here to shake me from my – dare I say it – insipid watercolours but my attempts to find some have been thwarted as most smaller places were still closed till this week. Hopefully I can drag myself away from still lifes when I get back. I think a few days of staring at Northcote grafitti will drag me out of my provincial dream state.

In the meantime, some more watercolours for my fans.