A few visits to a lake in an old quarry, clean and cold, and wonderful to swim in, imagining just how deep the water must be beneath our kicking feet. Lines of plane trees and the light-dark-light-dark flicker of light as we drove between them. The constant creaking of cicadas. The postcard-perfect market in Aix-en-Provence, artichokes, plaits of garlic, glossy aubergines. Haphazard bunches of zinnias, sunflowers, Michaelmas daisies. Stocking up on Sephora products in their chic black and white packaging. Green olives and yellow quinces, hanging from the trees in the garden under a blue sky. On the one day it rained, Almodovar films and our childhood French favourite, Banania hot chocolate.
The scent of lavender, ever present.