The weather gods are always kind to the Luberon Valley: 300 days of sunshine and rarely a drop of humidity. If a stray cloud decides to linger the Mistral will soon liven up and send it on its way. Rain, when it does come, comes properly. A full-on monsoon, the type that windscreen wipers can’t keep up with.
On Friday, our patch of the Luberon received much of our annual rain quota in just under an hour. Roads were flooded, new rivers sprang up and flowed through vineyards. Hail stones the size of gobstoppers bounced off the ground.
Seconds after the rain stopped we ventured out on to grass made deliciously cold by the hailstones, then donned wellies to gawp at flooded fields. Trees were shorn of leaves, vines shredded, tomatoes pitted, courgette plants flattened. But the rain clears the dust, and the clarity of light was the stuff of artistic legend. And of course, the sun shone on.
The 
Highlight of the Oppede calendar is the Soupe de Pistou – a gathering of 250 locals for a hearty veg and bean stew with a dollop of ‘pistou’ on top – the Provencal pesto – a heavy-duty garlic and basil paste. And so it was that I found myself at an unsettling hour in the local school kitchens with 30 or so other women, chopping potatoes by the bucket load; occasionally scolded by a terrifying woman for chopping to uneven size.