Provence en Anglais

The South of France (Provence) mimics where I grew up, only with carbonate geology (affecting soils). I grew up with clay based soils thanks to the local volcanoes. They don't have that in Provence. We don't get scorpions either. We get heat and passion. No lavendar trays, no Mistral wind to drive you mad in deepest Winter.

We got heavy ground hugging fog every evening around 5-6 PM that hung around all night until around 10:30 AM the next morning, when it would suddenly burn off and reveal sharp blue skies and a brilliant sun. We both have good wines, good bread, good meat and good cheeses. Both regions are agricultural with poor sense of time and lousy roads. Both kinds of road kill people. Such is life.

Our architecture is Spanish influenced, California being a former territory of Spain lost thanks to distance, incompetence, and low value since, apparently, the Mexican caballeros never looked DOWN when running steers across a stream in the Sierra Nevada foothills to see the huge gold nuggets there. Really. Never did. How lame is that? This is one of those quirks of History that seems highly implausible. Spanish Land Grant rock walls are all over the place, running with barbed wire fences through the middle. The wall looks older because it IS. The coast running nearby provides fresh seafood and surfing for those brave enough to fend off the Great White sharks hunting for sea lions. Inland is redwoods and oaks, tall dry grasses, orderly rows of vineyard, and the occasional town. Some are tiny burgs with a few stoplights and then you're back out into the wilds again. Some are burgeoning metropolises with ivy hung brick walled colleges you'd swear belonged somewhere in the East. Only, instead of French Bistros, you find better taco and burrito stands. Its different. It's home.