Push the iron gate, slowly for not waking up the soul
of Jean Giono who is resting there.
You are immediately under the
charm of cicada’s song, lavender perfume, smell of cypress trees heated by the
sun.
Already you enjoy this little
paradise corner. Gravel crunches under your feet alongside of the path leading
to the house, a small bastide erected at the end of the XIXth century, hidden in the heart of the
town, close to the market place."
