After nearly twenty-four hours of travel from home to Nashville, to Baltimore to Paris, then seven hours by car to southern France, we finally arrived at the hamlet of Baran. Walking down the lane to our front door, (with actual door bells), the smell of spring flowers on every door stoop and windowsill welcomed us to the French countryside. We were met by the caretaker, Roger, who gave us a short tour of the house and some basic information about the area, then promptly left us alone in this foreign place.
Exhausted and jetlagged, we unloaded our bags and set out to find a grocery store as we were starving and there were no restaurants in this very rural place.
After our gourmet dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, (so much for our first French meal) we took a walk around the hamlet. Roger had told us that all lands were public and that we could walk freely without regard to property lines.
An inconspicuous dirt path lured us in and let us pick a bouquet of wildflowers for the kitchen table.
Fields of sheep and cattle grazed contently in their heavenly pastures.
. Chickens walked around as freely as we did in the little town square.
Multitudes of birds sang loudly, bragging to us about how lucky they were to live there.
The centuries old houses, with their red tiled roofs had stone drains that poured out onto the gravel, creating a soothing trickle.
As we walked back toward our maison, crunching gravel underfoot, it seemed as though we were in another world. It felt surreal, like a dream. The ochre-colored houses cast a golden glow that wasn't only seen but felt. I felt God in this place. He seemed to be near and pouring out blessings on me
Details
Windows
Four-hundred-year-old floor stonework
Ancient Drains
Around our hamlet
After a good night's sleep, we were ready to venture outside our hamlet.
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