It’s a Sunday afternoon, June 1993, walking a country road in the south of France. I’d already met a woman harvesting cherries — she insists I have some, and I fill my hat to overflowing. After an amazing meal, I cross a meadow full of wild oregano — every step releases kitchen aromas. The next meadow is planted in lavender, the soil dry and rocky. Such a fragrance! Like the cherries, lunch, the meadow, this was yet another gift from goddesses, telling me she has uncountable gifts to bestow, each a sensual treasure.
