QUANTIFIABLY 2020

• 1 house and 2 cars sold in California

• 1 house bought in the Provençal countryside

• 2 truckloads of memorabilia (letters, photos, artwork, etc) thrown in the garbage

• 1/2 container shipped 6000 miles filled with artwork, books, craft supplies, camping gear, decorations, photos, my special pillow, a few pieces of furniture, work boots

• 1 move from one country to another

• 7 suitcases on the plane with me

• 3 reunions with French friends and family

• 7 welcoming new neighbors

• 226 pink sunrises gazing at the Alpilles mountains

• 1 pandemic

• 2 lockdowns

• 1 birthday all alone

• 1 contact case

• 14 days quarantine

• 1000 square meter potager (veggie garden) installed and worked biodynamically

• Kilos and kilos of home-grown vegetables gifted to friends and neighbors (and some given to the chickens)

• 8000 sycamore (platane) leaves raked

• 1 leaf blower purchased

• 1 little chainsaw purchased and mastered

• 254 times made a fire in the fireplace (I bring the wheelbarrow full of wood all the way inside the living room … unless it’s muddy outside)

• 3 major injuries sustained while working around the property (hip, shoulder, foot, all good now)

• 2 (only 2! ) massages

• 2 new doctors found

• 6 solid new friendships made (people I could call in the middle of the night with an emergency)

• 1 unrequited love

• Countless (but not enough) WhatsApp calls placed to old friends

• Several dramas and jealousies encountered being the new girl in town

• 887 times said “thank you” (~3x/day since I’ve been here) to my amazing neighbor Jean François for the thousands of acts of kindness and work done on my behalf

• Many many many times touched by the kindness of friends and virtual strangers (Gifted: vintage tools, fireplace wood, chocolates, bread, plants, flowers, fruit trees, meals, home-made cookies, time and expertise. Loaned: car, furniture, tools, and heaters. Work done for me on my land, involving tractors, tools, strength and know-how.)

• 25 hours spent scouring Le Bon Coin (France’s version of CraigsList) searching for the just-right antique farmhouse dining table. Haven’t found it yet. (But there are AMAZING antiques on Le Bon Coin for reasonable prices … unlike CraigsList)

• 100s of times feeling stupid for not understanding what’s being said or what’s going on or what the joke is

• 100s of times digging myself out of the “not smart enough” pit

• Many times making embarrassing language mistakes (ie - “préservatif” means condom, not preservative)

• 3 afternoons picking olives

• 1 bottle of our very own organic olive oil gifted to me

• ~120 bottles of wine shared (that’s about 3/week … perhaps more? Now enforcing a water-only January!))

• Too many baguettes enjoyed (Now enforcing a no-bread January!)

• 0 snails eaten :-)

• Only a few teary meltdowns

• 3 1000-piece puzzles completed — it’s going to be a long winter

• 1000s of grateful feelings for this life in this place with these people

HELP

Daily I am astounded by the bountiful, generous help offered me by my friends and neighbors — and neighbors who have become dear friends. 

Fred

Just today, for example, my friend Fred assembled in a jiffy the three remaining chaises longues after I’d struggled with the first for over an hour. This man has skills, and tools! And since I’m having 15 people over for a 4th of July BBQ tomorrow, I needed the lounge chairs assembled! And then he called his friend at the appliance store because I need a fridge and pronto. I’ve been using the former owner Claude’s fridge since my arrival in March — four months ago — and he asked for it back weeks ago. (And I MUST buy a car … I’ve been borrowing my French brother’s car since my arrival. And a filing cabinet to organize my catastrophe-stricken office.) But I’ve had other things pressing …

Jean François

And today, my neighbor-friend and potager-partner Jean François added a valve to the garden sprinkler hose so I won’t get *as* wet when I move the hose. He was tired of watching me run around trying to avoid the sprinkler as I attempt to time it right, to grab it and move it before it comes around again. And I always return drenched. He just shakes his head and laughs. 

And Jean François offered me room in his fridge for the things I do not need while I cook and make salads for tomorrow’s party. And he brought over plates and glasses for tomorrow, because I still only have two plates and four glasses (all borrowed — must go shopping!). And Jean François brought over a folding table for tomorrow’s party. And, and, and … 

Fred saw that I hadn’t purchased enough hamburger buns and soft drinks (but we have plenty of beer! And wine!). So he’s going to the store to get more. And he brought me a brioche this morning because he knew I haven’t had time for a proper breakfast these last few weeks.  

Stressed in Provence? Oui!!! I’ve been scrambling to prepare my rental cottage (le mazet) for renters who start coming on July 11 — in one week! — and the pool area and garden. 

I’ve been running around mostly in Avignon but also in Saint Rémy — and staying up all night online — buying *all the things* one needs in a rental unit: fridge, stove, sink, cupboards, tables, chairs, bed, mattress, bedding, towels, towel hooks, mirrors, lighting, TV, BBQ, shelving, plates, glasses, cutlery, dishtowels, strainer, wine opener, key chains, curtain rods. And getting the curtains hemmed. And calling the TV satellite guy to come. And the wifi guy … we still don’t have wifi in the mazet. And, and, and …

It has been tricky finding what I wanted … I didn’t know all the right stores to buy what, where (I do now!). And I’ve had to translate *all the things* learning lots of new vocabulary. I looked for days in at least four stores for a dish rack drainer (égouttoir) with the little lip that drains into the sink. After returning empty-handed several days in a row and expressing my frustration, my friends said, “We don’t have those here.” Ohhhhhhhh! So I bought a dish drainer with edges all around that contains the water … which requires sponging or tipping over to drain the water. Shopping in a foreign country can be complicated … and frustrating … and time-wasting.

And we had several frustrating, stress-inducing setbacks with the Moroccan tiles arriving later than promised, and a vital kitchen cupboard lost in transport. Fred was under the gun with a firm deadline of renters having already paid and arriving. He even built a temporary cupboard which turned out so beautifully we decided to keep it and get a refund for the one that got lost. Fred has done all the work in the mazet (plumbing, electrical, painting, plastering, tiling, building) … and it’s absolutely gorgeous. And Jean François has helped me with all the heavy gardening and watering, serious weed whacking and fitting hoses and sprinklers … and the garden and pool area are stunning. And Jean François remembers without fail to water in the potager … which I forget to do with so much else on my mind and on my list.

These are mere snippets of the myriad large and small ways these two, and many others, have helped me since my arrival. I’d always heard how country folks help each other out. It’s true. In return, I offer veggies from the garden, meals, wine, pastis, more wine.

But these two … Without these two excellent men, there is no way I would have been able to get the mazet ready in time. No way in hell. They are two of the best, kindest, most thoughtful, generous, skilled people I know. And they both have become dear, cherished friends. 

The little mazet is finally ready for visitors. And now you’ll find me naked by the pool, resting for awhile. 

PS - It was one year ago today that I first saw this house and property. What a difference a year makes! 

—

Two weeks later … 

Haha. The pool resting was short-lived. The week after the mazet was all finished and photographed, I finally had a moment to buy a fridge, and a filing cabinet, and a car. And plates and glasses! Now maybe I can find the time to buy a toilet paper holder to replace the cardboard box where my TP has been sitting for four-and-a-half months …

And there is wifi in the mazet. The kind renters from Switzerland are tech-experts who helped figure out how to get the darn thing working. And they LOVE the new mazet. 

Le Mazet :: before …

Le Mazet :: after …

Oof!

(Mazet photos by Mathieu Hache)

Waking Up

Morning sounds: 

• Symphonic bird (oiseaux) song emanating from the sycamore (platanes) trees

• Baaaaaahs and bells clinking from the sheep (moutons) and their Spring babies in the shepherd’s field over the hill

• Chattering squirrels (écureuils) jumping from the pine (pins) to the oak trees (chenes)

• Whinnying horses (chevaux) grazing in nearby pastures 

• Cooooo coooo coooo-ing from the doves (tourterelles) I feed with seeds scattered on the ground in front of the workshop 

• Murmuring chickens (poules) laying their tasty eggs in the coop just over the wall

• The 18 dogs (chiens) next door barking for their breakfast — my next door neighbors are proud boar (sanglier) hunters

In fact, we’re having sanglier stew for our Sunday lunch today. My next door neighbors  … these people, this family — just over the stone wall separating my side of the long narrow farmhouse from theirs — welcome me with interest, smiles, and help, so much help! Wood delivered to my yard — kindling, medium-sized wood, a phone call to the woodcutter to bring three cords of 50cm logs — which fuels my enormous open fireplace, the only heat in this farmhouse (mas) dating from 1640. Apparently I’ll be cool come summer scorching heat … But for now, this old house, with stone walls two-feet thick, holds the cold winter/spring air. 

Three cheap electric radiators, hastily purchased the day after I arrived, attempt to stave off the cold, but really, they only heat the air a few inches in either direction.

A month and a half ago, when I arrived here on March 4, I stayed in bed as long as possible, the only place warm enough aside from sitting on the hearth of the fireplace. Ten days later, still bleary from jet lag, France instilled our shelter-in-place (le confinement, in local parlance “le confi”). 

Without wifi for the first three weeks and with intermittent countryside cell service, my morning coffee routine consisted of attempting to eke out some understanding from the local Provence online news service and still pulling up the CNN app on my little phone screen to read the harrowing news.

Now, six weeks later, I have wifi and TV but can’t bring myself to ingest any news. Now, in late April, I can feel the nights becoming warmer. The days are glorious when the sun shines — it often does. Le confi? I barely notice it. 

So my morning coffee routine now consists of listening to the birds and the sheep, watching the sun reflect pink on the tips of the Alpilles mountain range in front of my house, the pink glow descending as the sun rises. Yoga, shower, dress, and go find my neighbor Jean-François, a retired farmer, who is always up to something. “What’s happening in the hamlet?” I ask him every morning. He smiles when I call it a “hamlet.” He and his family have been the sole owners here and on all the surrounding land for generations. So it’s not really a hamlet, it’s just one family. But to me, it’s a hamlet. 

Today in the hamlet, for example, we celebrated Jean-François’ mom’s 86th birthday. I gushed “I’ll be happy if I look as good as you at 86!” Her other son Claude, whose property I purchased, walked by and winked, smiling …

“it’s the country air”

Champagne and crémant, cake, more cake, flowers in a yogurt jar, provençal tablecloth, all of us — me and this family — around the table in the shade of the 200-year-old lilac bush planted by their ancestors. Old family photos were brought out. I left after my first glass of champagne, wanting to give them family-time perusing their history. Up on the hill, pulling dead stems from flower bushes, I heard them sharing stories and laughing the rest of the afternoon.

One morning, I took a long walk with Jean-François’ 88-year-old dad Jeannot, who admitted, “I can walk far but not fast.” Jeannot showed me all their family land, acres and acres of fields, pastures, olive orchards, open space, rising from our mas almost to the foot of the Alpilles. He showed me how to spot wild thyme, onions, sage, and mint. He’s big talker, always with a story to share or news to report, always with a twinkle in his eye.

On Sundays we eat hours-long meals together and play raucous rounds of pétanque on the sloping, pebble-filled yard — hardly a level, consistent pétanque pitch. The unevenness makes it more challenging and full of surprises! 

Indeed. This country life is not easy — there is so much work to do — but it is challenging and full of life. Since my arrival, I have breathed this countryside air, heard these countryside sounds, lived this countryside life. Walking around the property, I find myself smiling, whistling, humming, even laughing to myself out loud … full-hearted happy. I have wanted this life for as long as I can remember.

In French, the garden around the house is called “le jardin” and the vegetable garden is called “le potager.” It’s helpful and more specific to have two different words, not just “garden.” And there is so much work to do! My jardin is huge, with lush green lawn needing weekly mowing, and flowers, trees and shrubs all around and up on the hill around the pool, with more property and plants behind the house. My potager is enormous, about 1/4 acre (800 m2), and will be gardened biodynamically (more organic than organic).

This first year, only one-quarter will be veggie garden; the other three-quarters will have cover crops to nourish the soil. Little by little, much progress has been made. 

The design was drawn and staked out. Jean-François tilled using Claude’s hefty tractor, breaking up the compacted soil which had been a horse pasture for 25 years, and an apple orchard before that. Claude left me a huge pile of horse manure as compost, perfect for the soil. Jean-François and Claude’s sunny, bright daughter Maria helped me lay down compost on the potager beds. We made two compost piles and added the biodynamic preparations as prescribed.

Jean-François designed and we installed the irrigation system, with all the complex bits and pieces. We’ve sown cover crop seeds. Yesterday we — or I should say he, Jean-Francois — did the backbreaking work of rototilling in preparation for planting. I would be completely lost without Jean-François and his long, deep experience as a farmer, and without his steady, sturdy, generous willingness to help me. He is my garden angel! I’ve started melons and peas and tomatoes, which Jean-François chides with a smile, saying, “You won’t have tomatoes before September!” And I’m sure he’s right, and I don’t care. I will have tomatoes. This year. On my land. In my potager. Here in Provence. 

I don’t care that I have only the furniture, appliances, and tools loaned to me by Claude: a bed, sofa, armchair, coffee table, fridge, stove, washer/dryer, wheelbarrow, rake, shovel, hoses, buckets. Nor that I only have a few kitchen items loaned to me by my French family: one pot, one pan, three forks and spoons, one loaf pan (for making zucchini bread for the neighbors — it’s the only thing I can think of to do for them, in return for all the help they offer me daily). I don’t care that I drink wine and champagne and water out of little “Ricard” (pastis) glasses that Jean-François lent me. Their generosity floors me.

I don’t care that right after I moved in the bathtub leaked down into the kitchen, or that the pool pump broke, or that the water heater drips, or that I can’t figure out which pipe (tuyau) waters the garden and which pipe waters the hillside. 

When le confi is over, furniture and kitchen items will be bought. Repairs are slowly being made. I am figuring out the tuyaux. My friend Frédéric painted me a painting of the breathtaking view from my front door. My container with my few things and artwork just arrived. 

I have (almost!) mastered the finicky fireplace — opening the front door to create a draft before lighting, adding the right mix of paper, cardboard, kindling, medium-sized wood, and when all-ablaze, adding the logs. At first I was running back and forth from the kitchen to the fireplace, trying to keep my dinner from burning and the fire from extinguishing. Now the scene is calmer. I used to run out of paper to burn and had to go over to Jean-François’ to get paper, often enormous empty paper bags of rice he uses to feed his dogs. But now I have mountains of packing paper from my shipment, all the paper I’ll need for a year! A happy day is one when I prepare the fireplace early in the day for the evening fire, sweeping the ash from the fireplace into a metal bucket and adding the necessaries, so all I need to do is light it right before dinner. Simple pleasures.

So for right now, I have everything I need, and more. I have space, countryside air, countryside sounds, the best neighbors imaginable, and endless outdoor physical work. Simple pleasures. Great fortune.

I’m waking up to the life I have always wanted. It is finally here. I am happy. Grateful. Feeling so damn lucky. 

Lightness of Being

In case you haven’t seen or heard from me much these past many months, this is why … I’ve been preparing for my dreams to come true!

October: 

• Returned home after 6 months in Provence spent looking for my next home which I found, and which is even more exquisite than I had imagined! Original plan was to spend half the year in France and half the year in Mill Valley, CA, where I’d lived most of my life. But after several months in Provence of increasing peace, ease, and contentedness, I realized I would be moving to France for good. 

• One week after returning from France, my realtor suggested it was a good time to sell my home of 22 years. Indeed it was. 

• Prepped the house for sale in two weeks. Somehow worked with the realtors and renter for painting, staging, repairing, cleaning, ordering and installing new light fixtures. House shown off-market for 10 days. 

November: 

• Sold my home, remarkably in an all cash, no contingencies, ONE-WEEK close.

• Thus had ONE WEEK to empty my garage filled with a lifetime of memorabilia. Called 1-800-GOT-JUNK to remove almost everything: kindergarten artwork, report cards, college essays, love letters, my professional photography portfolios, paintings, swimming medals, all the things I’d thought important enough to save all these years. 

• Packed about 20 boxes to ship to France containing a few family photos, artwork, craft supplies, family silver and china.

• Sobbed as I set my house keys on the kitchen counter for the last time. Walked though every room saying goodbye and thank you for all the memories. And then shut the door behind me.

December

• Three weeks of recovery from elective cosmetic surgery to remove extra skin from considerable weight gain/loss. Very pleased with the results. 

January

• Two-week colon (and psyche and spirit) cleanse as a new-year/new-decade/new-life refresh. Massive parasites emerged, better out than in. Feeling great.

• The first draft of this post disappeared when my laptop died. (No, it wasn’t backed up. Shut up.)

• France house finally closed six months after making my offer. Happy girl!

• Visa appointment. Nerve wracking. Vitally important to be able to live in France full-time.

February

• Received Long-Stay Visa for France, one year. Will need to reapply each year for five years before becoming a citizen of France, including more massive paperwork of which the French are so fond.

• After weeks of preparing my beloved Eurovan camper to ship to France, I realized it would be impossible. Sold in one week to friends of my cousin who absolutely love it. I plan to buy another camper in France because I LOVE CAMPING IN FRANCE!

• Packed the rest of my stuff for a 20’ shipping container. Filled out many forms and inventory lists with values of every item. Much back and forth, revising and editing. Oof!

• Got all my affairs in order: banking, legal, taxes, insurance, medical, and cancelled all memberships and utilities. Each required *many more* than just one call/meeting/email. Imagine disentangling from every single thing in your life. 

• Would rather be hiking or swimming or laughing with friends. Anything but doing more admin. All I’ve been doing is ADMIN for the last five months. Grrrrrr. 

• Flew to Salt Lake City to see my brother and family since it may be a long time before I see them again. Important.

• Caught a bad cold on my way home from Utah. Then laryngitis. And sliced my finger removing art from a frame to roll up in a tube for packing. All of which really cramped my moving efforts.  

• Packed 4 enormous duffel bags and 3 enormous suitcases to bring on airplane. 

• Ordered mattresses for my France house so I won’t be sleeping on the floor. US credit card denied so my French friend ordered them for me. 

• Sold my car.

• Organized plane ticket for my dear friend and interior design whiz Caroline who’ll arrive a few weeks after me to help me shop for furniture and design the kitchen. Couldn’t do it without her! 

• Squeezed in bittersweet bon voyage gatherings. The joy, the tears, the love. So damn lucky.

March

• Moved to France!

Into the Future

I’m not at all sure what my life in Provence will hold for me, but I’m hoping it will include:

• Starting my biodynamic vegetable and flower garden. Thrilled at the prospect of growing old while being outdoors, in nature, moving my body, being healthy, and helping the health of the land, the community, and the planet. I have wanted this for such. a. long. time.

• Finding a way to be part of my new community: Volunteer work? Join the chorus? Start a regular photo walk in town, a book club, a pétanque group? English lessons? Start a non-profit? TBD.   

• Strengthening my relationships and friendships with my French friends/family and developing new ones — which I am fully aware are vitally important for a happy and full life.

Reflections

Moving countries is not easy; these past many months have been some of the most challenging of my life, with several meltdowns and near panic-attacks and pressure like someone was standing on my chest.

And it’s an enormous sacrifice to move so far away from everything and everyone I know and care about. Yet I feel a welcome, happy lightness of being.

My luggage may be heavy with clothes and shoes, towels and bedding, jewelry and important papers. But my heart is light with the invisible energies of friendship, connection, experience and wisdom gained through life’s ups and downs, and courage from feeling so loved.

Merci et bisous.

Making Dreams Come True

Patience and Pleasure

Life in the slow lane here in Provence. Long leisurely lunches. Obligatory siestas on hot days. Meandering conversations that last for hours. Ahhhhh …

But then there are times when I’d prefer Time move a bit faster. Like, say, when faced with the simple task of opening a bank account. What would have taken me two-and-a-half minutes at home in California took me two-and-a-half months here in France. Ok, perhaps the bank account opening wasn’t all France’s fault. The American FATCA law requires worldwide banks to provide in-depth documentation on their American clients’ accounts to the IRS to make sure American citizens aren’t hiding taxable assets.

So banks here don’t want American clients. And France is renowned for its formidable bureaucracy. I applied to several banks and reaaaaalllllly wanted to bank with Crédit Agricole because I like the name ;-) and because they were so incredibly nice at the St Rémy branch. And you have to schedule an appointment to open a bank account, often taking a week just to get an appointment! I provided reams and reams of all the necessary paperwork; helas I got absolutely nowhere with any of the banks in town. Finally I ended up banking with the international bank HSBC (where you can’t choose your own password nor your own PIN number) and their nearest branch is 40 minutes away. Sigh.

And before I got my bank account, I needed 4000 euros in cash, so my French maman requested it from her bank. It took three weeks to get 4000 euros in cash! And apparently the French tax authorities can go in to your bank accounts and take taxes owed or block your accounts. Shocking!

And then there’s the slow house buying business … yep …

I bought a farmhouse!

It’s not actually mine yet … it’s a long process, of course! I first saw it on July 12, made an offer on July 29, and had the “compromis/promesse de vente” (official signing of the paperwork with two notaires, the realtor, the seller and I) on August 20. And now I wait three months before it closes with another signing of the “acte de vente” … ooooof! But wow, it is the PERFECT place for me … I’m thrilled beyond belief! And feeling incredibly lucky, and grateful.

It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and I’ve been dreaming of this for a verrrrrrrry long time. Ever since I was a girl, I wanted to live on a farm in the countryside … but I grew up in the suburbs. I picked olives in Greece when I was 19 and fell in love with the agricultural life … but I had college and grad school to attend. At 27 while embarking on my photojournalism career, I met an inspiring couple of city people who decided to renovate an entire 15th century hamlet on a mountainside in the Cevennes in Southern France. They told me about Waldorf education. After I left the newspaper 15 years later, during my Waldorf teacher training, I learned about Biodynamics … but went on to teach photography at a Waldorf school for a few years. And then I finally decided, at 56, if not now … when???? For goodness sakes!!! So I quit my job and did a Biodynamic farming internship. And came to France last year to location scout. And came again this year to find a farm. And I did! I made my wishlist last year, and my farmhouse in Provence has pretty much all of this, and more!

It’s a 1640 farmhouse in Saint Rémy de Provence, perfect for me, not too big a house (2 bed/1bath) or property (2.5 acres), exposed stone on the interior and one exterior wall, amazing views of the Alpilles mountains, guest studio, workshop, salt water pool, loads of space for my biodynamic veggie garden, a hillside to plant my olive orchard, plenty of inexpensive water from an irrigation canal, bike rideable into Saint Rémy, near Avignon and Arles and Aix and Marseille when I need a bit of city, and a charming owner from an old Saint Rémois family who threw in extra land when he found out I wanted to start a biodynamic veggie garden since he believes in organic and sustainable living. He’ll continue living nearby and give me the inside scoop on everything … It really is ideal, everything I'd hoped and dreamed of all these years, and more! Wow.

But for now, I must muster all the patience I can and wait …

So while I have this time, I might as well master the art of pleasure in all its forms, since pleasure is such an important part of life here … They talk about pleasure - le plaisir - in France all the time!

avec plaisir
les plaisirs de la table
faire plaisir
pour le plaisir
se faire plaisir
un grand plaisir

Avec plaisir et amour,
Hill

La Vie Est Douce

After a bit of a rough start here in my France on my farm finding project, I have landed in a fabulous place and am very happy! But oy, those first few weeks ...

Last year, I'd location scouted all around Southern France and found "my area" ... la Provence Verte in the Var region of Provence. I'd fallen in love HARD for the landscapes of rolling hills filled with ancient stone terraces of olive groves, grapevines, cypress, pines, and oak trees. Oh la la, such stunning landscape, quite similar to Sonoma in California not far from my home in Mill Valley, but with the old stones that send ripples of excitement through my soul. So I'd rented a lovely gite (guesthouse) from an even lovelier Irish couple in the tiny village of Correns (pop. 900) in la Provence Verte. I'd chosen this village because, in 1995, it was the first village in France named "bio" (organic) where all the local farmers committed to farming organically.

Correns sits along the picturesque Argens river, has a 100% organic shop (rare in little villages), a fab restaurant with a fixed price "bio" menu, a boulangerie with yummy whole wheat "bio" bread, and few other establishments. That Brad and Angelina, and more recently George Lucas, purchased wine- and olive-making chateaux just outside Correns made me think I must have excellent taste (!) to have found this tucked away spot to call my new home and start my little farming venture. And while it is truly amazing that this little organic paradise exists https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXLBsJYV-DI&feature=youtu.be, it is also very quiet there ...

The area, as visually stunning as it is, was just too quiet for this suburban girl. It didn't take long for me to know in my gut I'd made the wrong choice. But it seemed unreasonable to my head to not really give it more of a chance. But I also didn't want to waste my precious time (I have a six-month visa, and six months go quickly). After an unbearably lonely, confusing, painful first week feeling I'd made a terrible mistake, I fled up to Saint-Remy-de-Provence for the weekend to see the gite I'd rented for July and August, to see if I could come two months earlier (pretty please??!!) and to be wrapped in the love and care of my French family I've known since I was a 16-year-old exchange student.

Thank the heavens the second rental gite was available and in an area I know fairly well having visited Thierry (my French brother) and his mom Yvette (whom I call Maman) many times over the years. In and around Saint-Remy-de-Provence and the spectacular Alpilles mountain range, there's tons of farming and underground water sources, as well as lots of action and culture and events and restaurants and movie theaters and and and ... which will allow me to have the kind of life I want to create here: part of the day "farming" (really, gardening) – biodynamically -- and part of the day enjoying la vie douce (la dolce vita, the sweet and slow life) of Provence.

Here at Cabane de la Leque chez Bruno and Marie-Francoise http://www.cabanedelaleque.com/, I am utterly happy and feel very at home. In the middle of nature, with a huge organic veggie garden, I have fallen in love with this little piece of paradise. Their property is one of just a few grandfathered in when this wild, natural area became a regional park in 2007.

Bruno – an artisan, artist and dedicated organic gardener -- renovated their home, planted vast herb and veggie gardens, built a mini aqueduct flowing into a pond, and constructed two rental cabins at the far end of the property. He filled the cabins with his hand-made furniture and art from driftwood scavenged from his brother's home on the Rhone river. And Marie Francoise is an international journalist, was an editor at Elle magazine in Paris, and writes books. They have welcomed me into their world, and I see them often in the veggie garden and on the terrace for apéro.

I wake early to the sound of birds and bees, and sometimes wind breezing through the pine forests, and no city noise at all. I hike right out my front door. I can help myself to whatever I desire from the veggie garden and to wildflowers for making bouquets. There's a pool. It's absolutely breathtaking.

Every few days I have lunch with my French family, inevitably an hours-long, delicious and entertaining affair. I go into Saint Remy or my village Fontvieille to run errands. I host visitors. I drive down to Aix, or take my visitors to Avignon. I have my pick of events to attend – concerts, museums, village parties, parades – and amazing restaurants to choose from. I found a great yoga studio. I'm making friends here. And I'm beginning my house hunt here. I'm finding my rhythm, and it's a much slower pace. My nervous system has calmed. Life is good. La vie est belle et douce.

Vision ... and Go!

On the last day of Farm and Garden Camp at The Pfeiffer Center a year-and-a-half ago, one of the young camp counselors and I were chatting. She would soon be moving to San Francisco to do a yoga teacher training. She was lovely, and excited about her upcoming move across the country. I suggested she take a drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to my hometown Mill Valley, CA. It's beautiful! I gushed.  

Lo and behold, Jamie now lives in Mill Valley and she and I are besties! That she's 30 years younger than me doesn't matter in the least. One of our first visits together, I showed her all my favorite places in Mill Valley: YogaWorks, The Image Flow photography center, the postal annex inside the gift shop, The Hivery women's co-working space, The O'Hanlon Center for the Arts, the gluten-free bakery Flour Craft at The Lumberyard, the sweet family-run nail salon, my cottage up Mt. Tam.

At every single stop on our mini-tour that day, I received warm welcomes, big smiles, and hugs.

- HILLARY! HOW ARE YOU?! GREAT TO SEE YOU!
Me: Hello, this is my friend Jamie, she just moved to Mill Valley.
- Oh, YOU'RE GOING TO LOOOOOOVE IT HERE they all cooed at her.

Well, after a mere three months, Jamie does love Mill Valley! She works at the flower shop at The Lumberyard, babysits for a family who is friends of friends, and volunteers at The Hivery. She's making a life for herself here, and I'm so proud of her! It's not easy being new, not knowing where to go, not knowing anyone. She's going for it!  

At the end of that mini-tour day, it sunk in just how much I have here in Mill Valley ... So many friends, so many acquaintances, so much history, so much love! I see people whom I love and who love me each and every day. The vistas are breathtaking. The food amazing. The people open-minded. I love Mill Valley!  

But it wasn't always that way. I was frustrated for so many years with the urban sprawl, the busy lives, the traffic, the racing, the stress ... and the impossibility to farm in Mill Valley. Yes I could do a little suburban gardening, but I wanted to be a real farmer on a real farm and that just wasn't ever going to be possible in Mill Valley. And I resented my sweet little town because of it.

That is, until I realized just what I have here, and that I could farm elsewhere. I could have both!

My vision board from January 2018 showed me the way. Images of olives, stone terraces, swimming pools, vegetables, sunshine, baskets, outdoor dining, friends ... the images could be from Sonoma, Mallorca, Southern France. Research was done, a sound decision made, the plan hatched: Live in glorious Mill Valley half the year because why would I leave everyone I hold near and dear to my heart?! And live the other half the year on my farm in Provence!

In just a few days, I leave for five months in Provence where I'll be looking for my farm. Last year I location-scouted all over Southern France and found my area. This year, I'm renting a cottage in that area – Provence Verte in the Var region of Provence – to look for the property where I'll build my little biodynamic farm. Yes it's crazy – michugganah as one of my Jewish relatives derided – but it is possible. Yes I'm terrified, yes it's complicated, yes it's unconventional ... And I'm smiling deep down, because I *know* this is my right path.

As my dear friend Meghan recently wrote me:

I know in less than 2 weeks you will be off to your big adventure. I want you to know how much you inspire me. Living your dreams, going for it, and trusting that you have everything you need. It truly is incredible. You created Firefly and it beautifully took flight. Now you are getting closer to your dream of having a farm, living close to the land, to Mother Earth and all her rhythms. It’s amazing. You are amazing. You astound me, friend, and help me to grow, to dream, and keep going for it myself. I love you, Hills. ❤

Meghan's going for it. Jamie's going for it. I'm going for it!

Go for it, friends. Vision ... and go!

What a Pain in the Neck!

Mid-way through my three months at the Pfeiffer Center ...

... I started developing the same symptoms I encountered earlier this year while working on the farmhouse in France ... intense pain in my neck, shoulder, and tingling down my right arm (on top of the normal aches and pains of becoming a farmer at 56!). After a series of fascial manipulation treatments resulting in no improvement, the doctor ordered an MRI which revealed pinched nerves from herniated discs in my neck, once again.

One would think that all this physical work after too much desk-sitting would be the culprit, but in fact I experienced similar symptoms a year ago while working at my computer running my photo camp. That's three episodes in one year from computer work and physical work. Apparently I have a weak spot in my neck which is a real pain in the neck.

Doctor's orders were to stop work and let my body rest ... my neck will heal again ... and then to strengthen my neck, gently. 

Leaving my internship was not easy. I loved the work, the community, and many new friends there. But I have not given up on my dream to live in the countryside and create a charming farm stay where people can learn about farming, make crafts, and enjoy simpler living. I just need to work at my own pace.

Now I just need to decide where in the world to have my farm! Oregon, North Carolina, Northern California, Southern France, the Azores ... And since my house is rented out for a year, I may spend the rest of my grown up gap year visiting and traveling to find my *place.* Suggestions welcome! Here are my criteria:

- Not too hot, not too cold, not too humid (Goldilocks-style)
- Ample rainfall or underground water sources
- Community of like-minded people who care about organic food and the health of the planet

For now I'm resting and recuperating on the island of Nevis in the Caribbean, staying with my dear friend Danielle who works at the medical school here. Not too shabby for some serious R&R. 

Becoming a Farmer

When I was a child, I imagined my adult self living on a farm ...

At 19 during my college overseas program, I spent two weeks picking olives on Crete with my Greek host family -- olive groves mingled with orange grove and a creek trickling by -- one of my absolute favorite memories. In my late 20s, I met a remarkable couple who left the city and lived an intentional life in the French countryside who inspired me. I was also inspired by the PBS series Frontier House and the modern families who lived for six months in Montana as if it were 1883, working to grow their own food in preparation for winter. One would think I would have followed these signs pointing me to some kind of life in the countryside. Life had other plans ...

I fell in love with photography in high school. That, coupled with my vow to never again work in an office after my high school summer job working in my dad's San Francisco office (in the Actuarial and Research Department, ugh), led me to carefully choose my career as a photojournalist -- definitely NOT in an office! 

Photojournalism gave me much of what I craved -- being active and outdoors much of the day doing something that mattered. Returning to the newspaper photo department at day's end, we developed our film and printed our photos in the darkroom. In the late 80s, Photoshop was born, and as amazing as Photoshop (and now Lightroom) is, we started sitting at computers to complete our work. Over the 20+ years since I left the newspaper world, I ran a few photography-related businesses and computers became ubiquitous. I once again found myself sitting at my desk, fantasizing about living in the countryside while working all day in my home office. The office. THE OFFICE! 

At 56, I had finally had enough. Decided to take a grown up gap year. Quit my job. Rented out my house. Went to France. Then moved across the country and started a biodynamic (BD) farming internship. 

Whaaaaaa??!!

Yep, I did it. Finally, finally, finally I am living the life I've been dreaming of, pining for, and whining about for such a long time!

Here at the Pfeiffer Center -- the only educational biodynamic farm in the US -- I'm outside all day long, in nature, moving my body, feeding people, healing the soil, and helping the planet. The program here is super organized and well-rounded. We -- the four interns and our two teachers -- have a weekly Farm Meeting and Biodynamics Study (studying Rudolf Steiner's Agriculture Course, the basis for biodynamics), harvest weekly for our Farm Stand and CSA, and monthly (along with 40+ people who attend) participate in the One-Year Training which covers all the key BD components, taught by leaders in the BD movement. 

I'm learning so many things! In the six weeks I've been here, I've learned how to plant, seed, spot, transplant, water, and harvest all the different veggies and herbs, prepare raised beds for planting, prepare beds for cover crops using a rototiller (backbreaking work!), tend to the greenhouse, make compost (super gross, stinky food scraps teeming with maggots transform in to healthy, vibrant soil), make/stir/apply/spray the BD preps, work with bees, and groom horses including picking their hooves (terrifying at first), move the electric fence, and more ... and then there's the interminable weeding! 

My wise, gentle, funny, kind teachers Mac Mead and Megan Durney somehow manage to field all our questions while still leading us to get all our work done. And my fellow interns Jeff, Christian, and Dylan supply the heavy lifting, and songs and jokes while we work. 

This farming life is busy! And also balanced, and healthy. At the end of the summer, we hosted a two-week Farm and Garden Camp for 60 children, teaching them how to do *all the things* culminating with a salad and pizza party using veggies the children harvested and our garden bread oven.

We interns attended the Northeast Organic Farming Association Summer Conference in Amherst, MA, where we heard Dr. Don Huber speak on the health issues stemming from glyphosate (the active ingredient used in Monsanto's herbicide Roundup) used in GMO and non-organic agriculture. And we have toured farms in the area to see how and why others do what they do. 

We're up and at 'em at 7am (6am on Thursday -- Farm Stand day) for a quick planning session, then out to the garden and fields we go. Working with the plants, surrounded by forest, listening to the birdsong and the neighbor's rooster crow, watching the sun rise, seeing the bees as it warms ... Many mornings I have been moved to tears taking in the beauty of it all. I am finally becoming a farmer.

Ahhhh, Provence

After my farmhouse renovation time was cut short by doctor's orders, fortunately I had a plan B: to stay in Provence with my "French brother" from my exchange student days in high school.

Soft dawn from my room with a view, 5:30am 

Thierry and I have been friends since I was 16. He lives in St.-Remy-de-Provence and is a bread baker in the next village over. 

St.-Remy-de-Provence feels like a French version of my hometown Mill Valley, that is, if Mill Valley smoked cigarettes. Population ~10,000, chock-full of charming alleyways, shady squares, stylish restaurants and boutiques, art galleries, farmers markets, fancy cars and tourists. (I have a similar love-hate relationship with St. Remy as I do with Mill Valley, for the above-mentioned reasons.)

St. Remy boasts a loooooong history. In 600BC, Gallic tribes settled nearby at the base of the beautiful Alpilles mountain range around an important spring. The Salyens built a prosperous city here in 200BC imbued with Greek influences, and then the Romans took it over, renamed it Glanum, and built temples, baths, theaters and a forum. But it primarily remained a religious sanctuary around the sacred spring. In 260AD, Glanum succumbed to barbarian invasions and the remaining population moved 1km down the road to what is now St. Remy. Old town St. Remy is surrounded by 14thC walls, Nostradamus was born here in 1503, and Van Gogh stayed in a psychiatric hospital here in 1889, painting some of his most beautiful paintings including "Starry Night." The surrounding countryside has long been agricultural, filled with fields of veggies, sunflowers, lavender, and olive trees. 

Every year on June 21st, all of France celebrates la Fête de la Musique and amateur musicians perform in every city, town and village. Everyone comes out to enjoy all kinds of music!

Early mornings here are sublime ... 

... especially with this little guy, Nougat (pronounced noo-gah), Thierry's charming and often rambunctious puppy!

Nougat is bilingual. Fais pipi! Sit! Allez! Down!

My favorite thing to do here is walk Thierry's puppy Nougat in the early morning before it gets HOT. 

Nougat likes to eat our shoes when we're not looking ...

Then comes LUNCH, the biggest meal of the day ... Bon appétit! 

... then the obligatory siesta.

Fortunately there's still a lot of water here in the form of fountains, canals, aqueducts, and pools. It is so hot, usually in the 90s (not at all like cool Mill Valley), so pool time in the backyard is also obligatory! 
There's also a magnificent municipal pool in Maussane-les-Alpilles, the next village over on the other side of Les Alpilles, where I swim laps daily.

Backyard pool 

Maussane pool

After so much work these past few months and years, this time in Provence has been a blessing. To rest, relax, and rejuvenate before embarking on my farming internship in August. Merci Thierry and merci Provence! 

Under the Ardèche Sun

Renovating a farmhouse in France is not at all like Under the Tuscan Sun. It IS an idealistic and creative endeavor of the largest proportions! It is also dirty, dusty, sweaty, cobwebby, batshitty, and VERY hard work! 

Photo by Joe Atkins

Joe Atkins had a dream, to someday renovate or build a home. Joe's career as a lighting designer for theater, film, concerts, exhibitions and conferences gave him the myriad necessary skills to build a house. What he doesn't know, he researches, often on YouTube! 

I also shared this dream, yet I have few skills. When my dear English friends Joe and his wife Manny said they bought an old farmhouse in the Ardèche in central France, a frisson surged through my system and I knew I'd volunteer on the project. 

L to R: Beth, Me, Arty, Manny, Joe, Luke, Marie (Luke's fiancée), Harry, Cloé (Arty's girlfriend)

Photo by Beth Atkins

A bit of background: Joe, Manny and their four children have lived in France since 2008. The year before, they sold their house in England, retrofitted a bus into a mobile home, and travelled around Europe for a year. I discovered their blog Welcome to the World -- written mostly by their children Luke, Harry, Beth and Arty as home-schooling homework -- after they had already started living in France. As is the magic of the interwebs, I was researching Thailand for a friend and came across their blog, read the entire year-long saga into the wee-hours of the night for months, and finally dropped them a line (the first time I ever reached out to strangers on the web!). Lo and behold Manny wrote me back, and very much in character with their openness to people, invited me to visit them in France! Serendipitously, I already had a trip planned to France, to walk the Chemin de St. Jacques with my little dog Daisey. Before my departure, I learned the Atkins were making a movie that summer as a family along with their actor friends, their first feature film. Before even meeting them, I volunteered to work on their film (that's how well I felt I knew them from their lovely blog!). In the summer of 2009 in France and Spain, I crewed on If You Ever Get to Heaven, a charming road movie taking place along the Camino de Santiago. What I love about the Atkins: they are warm, fun-loving, game-playing (often playing games they make up themselves), creative (music, film, photography, art, dance), honest, open ... and they LOVE a good project. (Me, too!)

Photo by Manny Atkins

Fast forward to April 2017. The Atkins assisted with my visa paperwork, then welcomed me into their home, setting up a room for me in the house they rent in Bas-en-Basset (also a converted farmhouse) and helping me buy a car. I settled in to life in the French countryside. Most impactful to my system were the sounds ... Waking to the song of warblers, swallows, and roosters, counting time by the chimes of church bells, doves cooing and sheep bleating in the afternoons, and the absence of traffic noise. I found myself weirdly drawn to lying in the grass, in the backyard or in the field at the farmhouse ... something I never do at home but which I let myself do those first weeks in France, a sign that my body needed rest and my soul needed grounding. I also enjoyed living with this very special family. 

Most days, some configuration of the family and I -- whomever was available -- set out on the 45 minute drive to the little hamlet of Solignac outside of Tence to work. For me, the roads all looked a bit the same with green fields all around, pine trees at higher elevations, stone farmhouses. My landmarks were the cows, sheep, horses, donkeys, and chickens along the way ... penultimate picturesque countryside, the kind in fairy tales. 

The work was rewarding, progressing each day. My main job had me up on the scaffolding (échafaudage, or "the tower" as Joe calls it), working my way along the ceiling of the barn (grange), cleaning the wood beams (poutres) with wire brush (brosse métallique), airgun (pistolet à air), and sandblaster (sableuse). The work was also physically exhausting for my body which was more used to spending much of my day sitting at a computer. A handful of Advil became part of my daily regimen.

After two months of working and several visits to an ostéopathe (and one to a sorcière!), I decided to see a docteur ($25 for a 45 minute visit, thanks to the comprehensive French medical care system!) for the unremitting pain in my neck, shoulder, arm, and uncomfortable tingling in my fingers. He diagnosed me with NCB (nevro-cervical brachialgie) or CBN in English, otherwise known as sciatica of the arm, otherwise known as a pinched nerve. I had x-rays to confirm the diagnosis. Three prescriptions later (at a mere $3 a pop), I had to stop work, doctor's orders. 

I salute the Atkins family who are working diligently to achieve their dream. They are a team that works and plays together with such joy, enthusiasm, positivity, and gusto. So grateful to have been a part of the project! Bon boulot et bon courage, mes amis! 

PS - As part 2 of phase 1 of my gap year, I'm recuperating in Provence at the home of my French exchange student family whom I've known since I was 16, in preparation for the start of my farming internship in August. Not a bad spot for rest and rejuvenation! 

Life Now

Since my last blog post in 2013, my life filled with such good things: teaching photography at the San Francisco Waldorf High School and starting Firefly Institute. 

Teaching photography seemed a natural progression of my photography career, a way to give back. All my photography teachers whispered in my ear during those four years, especially Hal Wells and Don Winslow. And of course, so did my Waldorf training teacher Dorit Winter. Teaching is a very humbling experience -- so much can and does go wrong, or not quite as planned -- and it is also one of the most exquisite feelings when things go right: seeing students have aha moments as they start to see light or first grok how their cameras work, or witnessing their last day of class comparing their first photos with their last and seeing them realize how much they learned. And to be able to teach at a Waldorf school? So grateful. My school is an exciting place humming with creativity, projects, performances, teaching and learning. Creating the photography curriculum was especially challenging and rewarding, distilling my 40 years of photography practice into an eight-week course of observation of light, exploration and discovery.

And starting Firefly Institute was a long held dream come true. After having attended Squam Art Workshops six years prior, I imagined a similar workshop with all photography classes. Such a workshop didn't exist, so I created it! Such joy in designing a three-dimensional experience for 50 women that they/we absolutely loved, filled with classes taught by amazing teachers, at the charming Westerbeke Ranch in Sonoma, with lots of laughter, song and dance in the mix. 

While both of these endeavors were successful and soul satisfying, they also required hours and hours, too many hours, sitting at the computer, foregoing exercise and social engagements ... a life out of balance. I knew something had to change. 

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to live in the countryside -- the green, rolling hills, pastoral kind of countryside, preferably dotted with old stone buildings. When I was 27, I met a remarkable couple who had left their urban lives to buy 100 acres in the mountains of southern France including an abandoned 15th century peasant village called Bardou. Jean and Klaus Erhardt spent their years fixing up the village, inviting travelers to come stay for free in return for work, and renting out the houses for a nominal fee for those who preferred to relax. Although in a remote place, they insisted on having art be a part of their lives, and when I was there we read Macbeth on their terrace one Sunday after herding their flock of sheep. They restored a performance hall and started a classical music summer series in nearby villages. And they were the ones who introduced me to Waldorf, the educational model based on the teachings of Austrian visionary Rudolf Steiner. 

All along my magnificent photojournalism and photography career, I'd remember Bardou and Waldorf. After leaving photojournalism (after being held up at gunpoint by a group of teenage gang members who surrounded me in my convertible on a dark street in Long Beach), I eventually completed the Waldorf teacher training course and started teaching photography at the San Francisco Waldorf High School. While studying Steiner, I learned that he also inspired Biodynamic farming.

So, what is my life now? I left my teaching job and sold Firefly Institute to take a grown up gap year! I'm currently in France staying with my dear English friends the Atkins (with whom I made the movie If You Ever Get To Heaven in 2009) helping them renovate an old stone farmhouse in the green pastoral countryside in the Haute-Loire. I'm up on scaffolding most days cleaning the wood beams and stone walls with a wire brush and a sandblaster, very meditative and satisfying work. 

Next week I'm returning for a week in Bardou where I'll work preparing the village houses for the season. And then I'm going to visit a Waldorf school in the French Pyrénées mountains to see their Biodynamic farm and school. 

And in August, I start a one-year Biodynamic farming internship at The Pfeiffer Center, the educational farm in upstate New York!

How's that for life change? 

2012. 365. two photos. every day.

In 2012, I made two photos ... Every. Day. One looking out at the world and one looking in at myself. Welcome to my 365 project. Welcome to my world. Thank you for watching. (music by Jason Mraz)

I did it! Did what, exactly?

Believe me, it might not sound like a big deal to take photographs daily. But it is not easy, especially at first, to find new photos every day. I had attempted another 365 project a few years back, which lasted a couple to three months before I gave up. 

This time, my inspiration came directly from Corinna Robbins whom I met at Camp Shutter Sisters in 2011. She was just completing her 365 project, and I could see her pride beaming because of it. NOT the boasting kind of pride, but the real inner-strength-I-believe-in-myself-when-I-didn't-before kind of pride. Hard-won pride. Her images are gorgeous. I can tell she really worked to find great images and learn photography through doing so ... As an aside, don't even get me started on her writing. This girl oozes talent.

At the same Camp, I took a Self-Portraiture class taught by Shutter Sister Meredith Winn. I had not understood the first thing about the mighty Selfie until learning from Meredith. I thought it was about how good I can look, or a look-at-me-look-at-me narcissism ... I didn't get it at all. Meredith taught me about the power of looking at myself, of expressing my range of emotions, of really seeing myself and letting myself be seen.

My idea came to me in October, then brewed and stewed. I was terrified to actually try it. The new year came and went. Then on January 4, 2012, I committed to doing a diptych-a-day: one photo of what I see out in the world, and one self-portrait. Why did I want to make my 365 double hard on myself?

I am so glad I did!

Here's what I learned:

At first, I struggled to find a photo every day, let alone two. Slowly over the months, my seeing gained momentum and strength. Now, I see objects and scenes all day long that catch my eye. I also thank Tracey Clark and the Shutter Sisters community for helping me to see and validate my entire world, the Beautiful and Real. Every day.

Turns out, I am not unphotogenic, I just did not know my better angles. I am willing to see myself now and accept more parts of myself, including the darker, more complicated parts that previously I kept hidden from the outside world, and often from myself as well. Over the course of the year, I see myself open more and more to the camera, and thus to being seen, when I look in my eyes in the images I took of myself. This simple act of opening up, each day a little more, and seeing myself has been incredibly healing!!!!

To sum it up, in 2012: I fell in love. With myself. With photography (again). With a (shy) man. With the world. With Love. With Life. Daily Life.  

day three, 2013

day two, 2013

Day One, 2013

365/365: to argentina, with love

364/365: it takes two to tango

363/365: joy, since high school