My sister’s neighbor in Provence:
The 50-year-old woman, who lives in a tiny, old, one-room stone cottage, has a several-acre field which she has planted with lavender. She is watering it by hand; several other people come by daily to help her. She sits on a folding chair that she moves around. Hundreds of feet of hose, hours of work. One big rectangle for her own kitchen garden. She has three geriatric dogs who come over and sleep in the grass and say “hello” when we take our walk. She brings them food wherever they happen to be lounging.