Wanting to see as many small villages as one day would allow, we rented a car and headed out for a highly anticipated road trip.

In the center of the village stands a column erected in 1804 to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the birth of Petrarch. The village was, at the time, the site of a literary and romantic pilgrimage which attracted the greatest talents of French letters, such as Lamartine, Chateaubriand, Stendhal and Georges Sand.

I loved the ruins of the Château de Pétrarque (c. 1030), also called Château de Vaucluse perched high above the city.

This is one of the quintessential images of Provence, L'Abbaye Notre-Dame de Sénanque, and one we were hoping to see.

"Magnificent testimony to the talent of the Cistercian builders, Notre-Dame de Sénanque nestles in a narrow valley planted with pines and lavender. Founded in the 12th century by a monastic order carried by the aura of Saint Bernard, it offers Romanesque architecture with soft, pure lines and human proportions. Sober and spare, where the invisible becomes visible, where nothing distracts the monk from his prayer."

While our timing could not be better, with so many components of this trip, we arrived too early to get the full benefit of the lavender in bloom. Needless-to-say, it did not stop us from laying about in it. I am a happy traveler.

Considered one of the most beautiful villages in France, Roussillon, was our final explore before heading back to Avignon.

Located in the heart of the largest ocher deposit in the world, the ocher facades of the buildings give it the incomparable charm of a living work of art. This specificity of the village has been known since antiquity. The name Roussillon comes from roussoulus which means red furrow in Latin. Moreover, many artists such as Cocteau, Carzou, Buffet, and Beckett, walked along these street.

A brief history lesson from the 19th century, was learned in this mill which was used to press the village's olives until 1956. That year, a harsh winter frost killed most of the olive trees in Provence. On that destructive night a fierce frost wiped-out olive orchards across Provence. In one foul stroke, the temperature plunged from + 70º in the daytime, to a painful – 62º in the night. The sun-seeking sap that had crept up the trees as the temperature climbed. during the warmth of the day, was totally frozen in its tracks. Legend has it that on the day following the frost the sound of olive trees crying pervaded the orchards as the sap exploded and cracked the trees (some were over 1,000 years old). So sad.

"The cliffs, cirques and fairy chimneys of Roussillon bear witness to the exploitation of ocher since the 18th century. Little by little abandoned, the quarries formed a grandiose ensemble into which the visitor, disorientated, immerses himself with happiness. In the village, the facades of the houses coated in ocher are in harmony with the surrounding landscape."

I loved the simplicity of this little church which was erected at the end of the 11th c, with the current façade dating from the 17th century. The church is dedicated to Saint Michael the Archangel, patron saint of the town,

I was most surprised by this framed 18th century crossed stitched biblical scene. Have you ever seen one in a church before?

Roussillon provided us with an exceptional view and some wonderful spots in which to stroll.

Our final meal together was back along the Rhône at le Bercail. It was as wonderful as it was when I dined there with Annie and Bob.  We even had the same waitress, Suzanne, who was the catalyst for our road trip (we followed her suggestions).

After returning the rental car, this was our view from the walled city. What a magical day, writing new stories with Ian and Eileen.

"Road trips are the equivalent of human wings.

Ask me to go on one, anywhere.

We’ll stop in every small town and learn the history,

feel the ground and capture the spirit.

Then we’ll turn it into our own story

that will live inside our history to carry with us always.

Because stories are more important than things."

-Victoria Erickson