There’s something magical about the South of France. Maybe it’s the golden light that seems to linger a little longer, or the way the cicadas hum a lullaby in the afternoon heat. This year, instead of using my sister’s stone house perched on a hill as a launchpad for adventures, I’ve decided to slow down. To truly see. To let my lens wander and my mind settle.
The House That Whispers Stories
The house itself is a character in this story. Made of stone, it’s as if it’s been carved out of the hill itself. From every angle, it tells a different tale. In the morning light, it’s warm and inviting, like an old friend. At night, under the stars, it’s mysterious and timeless. I’ve spent hours just walking around it, discovering new textures, shadows, and perspectives. Who knew a house could be so photogenic? (Though, to be fair, it’s French—so it’s practically cheating.)
A Symphony of Nature
Surrounded by a forest, the property is a playground for the curious. The pool sparkles like a gem, but it’s the smaller details that have captivated me. The fig trees, heavy with fruit, seem to pose for the camera. The olive trees, gnarled and wise, whisper stories of centuries past. And then there are the insects—my new muses. A wasp, with its iridescent wings, becomes a jewel. A butterfly, flitting from flower to flower, is a fleeting masterpiece. Even the ants, marching in their tiny armies, are a reminder of the intricate beauty of life.
Time is a Flexible Thing
One of the joys of mindful photography is that time becomes elastic. Early mornings are for dew-kissed spiderwebs. Midday is for the play of light and shadow. Evenings are for the golden hour glow. And nights? Nights are for the stars and the soft glow of the house against the dark sky. There’s no rush, no schedule—just the freedom to explore and capture what feels right in the moment.
Community and Connection
Of course, it’s not just about the place—it’s about the people. Family dinners under the pergola, laughter echoing through the vineyard. Neighbors stopping by with a basket of fresh apricots or a bottle of local wine. These moments, too, are part of the story. They remind me that photography isn’t just about capturing beauty; it’s about capturing connection.
Conservation, Culture, and a Little Bit of Chaos
As I wander this little corner of Provence, I feel deeply connected to the land. The vineyard, the olive grove, the fig trees—they’re not just pretty backdrops. They’re part of a living, breathing ecosystem. And the culture here, steeped in tradition and simplicity, is a reminder to cherish what’s real and meaningful. (Though, let’s be honest, the chaos of a Provençal market is also part of the charm. Try photographing a stall of ripe tomatoes without getting elbowed by a determined French grandmother!)
The Gift of Slowing Down
This holiday has been a lesson in mindfulness. In slowing down, I’ve discovered a world of beauty I might have otherwise missed. The way the light catches the edge of a leaf. The intricate patterns on a butterfly’s wing. The warmth of a shared meal. These are the moments that make life rich, and they’re the moments I’m grateful to capture with my camera.
So, if you’re feeling the pull to slow down, I encourage you to try mindful photography. Find a place—whether it’s a stone house in Provence or a park in your neighborhood—and let your lens guide you. You might just discover a whole new way of seeing the world.
And who knows? You might even find yourself in a staring contest with a wasp. Spoiler: the wasp always wins.
Zen Lens Adventure 