“The pictures she drew on were vibrant as ever, though. The crumbling stone farmstead overlooking the great Luberon valley where she was born. The blending room of the distillery in Manosque where she had experienced a kind of rebirth, beginning the transformation into the woman she was now. Scent was memory, and memory a complex blend of scent and emotion:… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share
“Dark rocks stood waiting to be sculpted by the wind. Tiny seeds rode the air, waiting to fall and take root. Under the sea,… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“Even as winter comes, mornings are crisp, and the big, blue sky seems to hang newly washed over the sea of hills.” — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“The sunlight could not quite dispel the difference in atmosphere now that she had seen the interior of the garden. It was as if… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“Scrubby evergreen bushes released a strong scent of resin and honey; forests of pine gave way to gentle south-facing vineyards disturbed only by the… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
I marveled at how they were all closed up, asleep with their secrets unseen until you reached up and took the book down from… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“Adrenaline fizzed in my veins, provoking that surge of self-doubt you get sometimes on the edge of some high place, that you might -… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“I still dream in pictures and color, always the world of my childhood. I see the purple Judas trees at Easter lighting up the… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“Blonde hair and blue eyes," she repeated. "The lavender fairy." "Now, hang on a minute!" "Just like the lavender fairy has. There's an old… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
“Eau-de-vie- flavored with myrtle," said the old woman. "Try it!" She watched intently as Ellie raised the glass to her lips. "Myrtle from the… — Deborah Lawrenson Copy Share Image
