A Garden In Provence

There were so many reasons why I’d always wanted to visit Provence. The iconic lavender fields and the serene Senanque Abbey had topped my list for years - images I'd seen a hundred times, yet never experienced for real.

But Provence offers so much more than just postcard views.

There's the scent of Grasse, the perfume capital of the world, and the delicate Centifolia roses (or May Rose) grown at Domaine de Manon exclusively for Dior.

And then there’s Miraval — Brad Pitt’s vineyard estate — adding a touch of modern glamour to this stunning landscape.

But when I finally got to visit, what touched me most wasn’t any of the things I had imagined.

It was a quiet, hidden garden - simple, tranquil, and impossibly beautiful - that stole my heart.

And it's that garden that I want to share with you here.

This beautiful garden was tucked away on the outskirts of a small village, not far from Bonnieux, made famous by Nicole de Vésian’s iconic garden La Louve.

The garden was filled with lavender, a variety of medicinal and aromatic herbs, and other plants typically found in the Provençal landscape.

Juniperus communis (common juniper) grew all through the garden, mostly as low, spreading shrubs rather than tall, slender trees. I’ve always loved how its berries bring out the flavour of meat and give gin its distinctive edge and knowing that they also have medicinal uses just adds to its appeal.

Scattered throughout the garden was Delosperma cooperi, or Cooper’s hardy ice plant, with its vibrant pink flowers and low, spreading matt growth. It was thriving effortlessly in the warm, dry conditions and really caught the eye.

The effect of light on the flowers was far more noticeable here. I loved how the garden, mostly composed of countless shades of green, was suddenly brought to life by bursts of colour, perhaps a deep red rose standing out against a pale wall that itself shifted in tone with the changing sunlight, from soft to bright depending on the time of day.

It was so tranquil in this garden, whether waking in the morning, drifting to sleep at night, or wandering through it beneath the midday sun, a deep sense of peacefulness seemed to linger in the air. The garden enveloped you completely. Set on a series of terraces, it was a place where you could easily lose yourself.

I loved exploring, turning a corner, descending a few steps, and finding something new each time: a cobbled terrace bathed in light, a neatly patterned herb parterre, or a terrace overflowing with lavender. It was hauntingly beautiful.

Some gardens I read or hear about and dream of visiting for years before the opportunity finally comes. Others I stumble upon by pure chance. Whichever way I find them, there is always that same rush of emotion on seeing a garden for the first time. Often, there is simply too much to take in, and being caught up in the moment, it’s easy not to pause and truly appreciate everything: the setting, the design, the planting, the atmosphere. There are so many layers to a garden.

Only now, as I look back and write about this beautiful garden in Provence, do I realise just how special it was, how fortunate I was to be there, and how much I long to return. To revisit it slowly, with the benefit of familiarity, and really come to know it. There are, after all, far too many gardens in the world to see.

Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer