Sonoma County, California on a late October afternoon. Rows upon rows of golden, burnt umber vines stretching along the valley and over the hillsides. Overhead, a deep, sapphire sky, kissed every so often with small puffs of cotton wool clouds. Despite much of the harvest having been gathered, the warm air is still richly perfumed with a scent reminiscent of aged, oak barrels.

Enjoying an afternoon wandering through a beautiful a winery and the idiosyncrasies of the designer gardens and retail outlets of Sonoma's 'Cornerstone', where there is always something unusual to captivate and beguile!

Chateau St Jean, a delightful winery in California's Sonoma Valley nestled at the foot of the Sugarloaf Ridge near Kenwood. Surrounded by stunning gardens, based on classic Mediterranean designs, with intimate courtyards and terraces for visitors to stroll amidst the citrus planted terracotta tubs, plants and herbs whilst sampling the Chateau's award winning vintages or spending a leisurely afternoon enjoying a picnic.


Through the archway to one of Chateau St Jean's courtyards.

An old wagon full of planted treasures

Terracotta pots full of citrus, these, resplendent with mandarins

Peeking at the vines through the pine trees

Visiting Cornerstone, Sonoma,

where there are some incredible garden architectural designs. Like this chicken wire orchard sparkling with jewels!

A shining wire tree, the afternoon sun dancing off its boughs!

Chairs for sale in the Artefact Design Salvage Centre

Swinging chairs from a ferris wheel or something similar, who will buy these and how will they use them I wonder?

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For me, one of life's greatest pleasures is being able to eat al fresco, shaded by a canopy of leaves, a gentle breeze cooling the air under a sun drenched, cornflower blue sky. Delicious food, wine and most importantly good company are the only ingredients required; where menu choices and the preferred color of the wine are the only decisions of the day. The patio at the Farmstead restaurant just outside St Helena, amidst their market garden and spring blossoms couldn't be a prettier setting. For a few hours, every day concerns waft away, the surrounding laughter and chattering voices absorb you into an atmosphere of peace and contentment. Isn't this what life is all about, being with those we care about, relaxing and sharing special times? Afterwards, a lazy wander through the local vineyards sampling an array of vintages, completes a perfect day!

An apple blossom tree in the Farmstead garden, bursting with new life and the promise of summer fruits.

A peek inside the The Long Meadow Wine tasting rooms and shop by the Farmstead restaurant enticed us in.

Tempting gourmet groceries to purchase.

Just a few miles back along the valley floor in Rutherford, the wines at Beaulieu Vineyards (BV), lined up like sleeping soldiers!

Inside BV's infamous Georges de Latour's tasting room, we discovered a little of its history.

Georges de Latour, a Frenchman, bought Beaulieu in 1899, supposedly making a fortune selling sacramental wines during Prohibition! Dedicated to excellence but with his prohibition fortune dwindling, Latour returned to France hoping to find a fellow compatriot to help him in Napa. He actually returned with a Russian refugee, Andre Tchelistcheff who became his chief winemaker.
The BV Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon became the flagship for the estate and although the first vintage in 1936 was just before Tchelistcheff’s arrival it was to become his signature wine.  The cabernet sauvignon grape was described by BV as a “premier claret grape of the world…responsible for the renowned chateau-bottled red wines of Bordeaux, such as those from the médoc and Saint-Emilion.”

Local 'cowboys' outside BV reminded us that we were not intact amongst the vines of south west France!

Still pursuing a French theme, we crossed the road to sample their rosé, much praised at lunchtime by our waitress. At last, refreshingly crisp rosé has been discovered in California!

Both the rosé, chardonnay and cab at this small husband and wife winery (Elizabeth and Spencer!) were excellent.

The gates of a small estate looked reminiscent of many we had passed by in Provence.

We wound our way slightly up into the hills to Rombauer.

Their 'tree house' winery boasted incredible views of the valley with spring flowers carpeting the floor.

The Rombauer tag line, that I share here, so very apt!

An old vine greeted us when we arrived.

The Americana cow, as we departed!!

A final stop at the Oakville grocery ensured we had bread and cheese to accompany our purchases's from the vintner's, could there possibly be better food companions?!


As we departed, the vines stretching before us along the roadside, dancing Californian poppies cheerfully bade us 'au revoir', until the next time!

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Every year at this time the air smells just that bit fresher, newly unfurled leaves seem greener than you recall, the daffodils are just that bit more dazzling, their trumpets bobbing up and down in the breeze as if announcing that Spring has arrived. Delicate blossom petals shroud their trees in a crinoline of pastels, you can almost imagine them dancing into the woods partnering with a tall redwood or pine tree to dance a spring waltz. Despite Mother Nature's consistency of setting her seasonal stage, it's almost as if you are witnessing her creative talent for the first time; embracing the beauty of the season, of new life and the promise of summer yet to come.
Meandering along on my bicycle through the leafy side roads of California's Napa Valley last weekend, surrounded by such new beginnings I felt immersed in this magic. Rows of endless vines sprouting their first buds, Californian poppies splashing their cheerful orange next to silvery green olive trees and clumps of lavender yet to burst into life. With rays of sunshine gently warming my back I dreamily peddled along, believing I was back in Provence and at the same time feeling blessed to have somewhere as equally tranquil so close by.

Fruit tree blossoms

California Olive Trees

Row after row of vines stretching in every direction. Lovingly tended to and cared for; its a wonder that each bottle of wine isn't a small fortune considering the amount of toil involved in its production.

New growth on the vines at the renowned Silver Oak vineyard seem just that little further advanced.

Vintners industriously checking each stem.

The tiny beginnings of the new crop in evidence. Protected in a veil of lace, almost like a caterpillar cocooned in a chrysalis slowly metamorphosing into a new life.


We left the cabernet vines of Silver Oak, which from a distance looked quite bereft of life against their golden mustard carpet and the backdrop of bright green foliage scattered across the distant hills behind them.

A lone proudly flag fluttered across the road reminding me which continent I was on.

We were flanked by sprawling vines on either side of the road.

Resting under a majestic Californian Redwood, we were gently reminded again of where we were, the stunning Napa Valley.

Looking across the famous Opus One Vineyards, incredible joint venture between the Robert Mondavi and Baroness Philippine de Rothschild.

Dragging ourselves away, we sought out somewhere for lunch and the possibility of sampling the local bounty from harvests gone by. As I passed by more vines and blossoms I felt so blessed being able to be so close to nature. Even if just for a few moments in time, to be surrounded by such spring time beauty was renewing. For isn't life all about stopping and noticing, the blossom petals, the shades of the leaves, the wonder that is all around us, if we only open our eyes to see it.

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I am so very many miles from where I was living last November, almost 5000 miles from Lourmarin in Provence, France. Yet as I drive around the sun-drenched, autumnal vineyards of California’s Napa Valley the countryside is not so very different. Remembering the lanes of Provence in late Fall, in both places one is immersed in the warm vibrancy of the season. As another year draws to a close, Mother Nature has swept her paint brush over the landscape, drawing from a rich palette of golden reds, burnt oranges and nutmeg. The colours of flames, as if to prepare you for your own fireside when in the coming months  you will be snuggled inside, warmed by the glow of burning embers.

Just as in Provence at this time of year, the deep blue Californian skies almost belie the lateness of the season.

Gazing across the vineyards, which seem to stretch endlessly, your eye is soon drawn to follow the lines of the vines, their bounty long since harvested as drooping ochre leaves begin to flutter to the ground.

Wineries here are younger, built mostly from wood. Those that attempt to replicate the stone and low slung clay tile roofs of Provence do so politely but not convincingly. Age and character are, after all, the gifts of time.

However, charm and grace can still abound. The welcome one receives from behind these doorways can be just as beguiling as the longevity of the structure.


The sudden occasional appearance of a prominent palm tree reminds you that you are in California. The air is fragrant with the perfume of must and cork mingled with the smell of pine and wood smoke. Deep, enticing, chocolate aromas from the earth seem to reflect the richness of the soil from where life had earlier sprung.

Mother Nature has done her work yet again, seducing me with the season to gather branches and berries and placing fairy tale pumpkins on my doorstep as we start to think about the excitement of the festive season ahead.

Daylight is shortened and even in California we drag out our sweaters and boots. Homemade soups and stews tempt the palette. We watch the weather forecast in eager anticipation for news of snow in the mountains. Christmas and skiing are just round the corner.

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'Provence' in California?  After a ten hour plane journey how can it seem like you had never left, shouldn't you be somewhere vastly different? Although there are obvious immense variances between Provence, where I had departed from and northern California, my destination, on this trip, I was also struck by the similarities. Maybe this is why both places hold such a special part of my heart. 'What?', I hear you say, how can anything in California, resemble anything in southern France? 'Processed', manicured efficiency colliding with rural, stone cobbled, shuttered, centuries of ancient history? Absolutely nothing in life is that 'black or white'!

Countryside bursting with the promise of spring, sweet fresh air, lush greeness, wobbly  fences, tumbling stone walls and a canopy of blue, so typical of a Provencal sky................but this is January in California's beautiful Napa Valley.

Well tended vineyards stretching in perfect symmetry, their vines resplendent, ahead of a new season's flourish.

French bistros with such temptations to choose from that any French bistro chef would be proud. Maybe a tad more 'beautiful' inside, maybe displaying more 'Frenchness' than the genuine article but still spilling over with ambience, charm and deliciousness, ~ after all my samplings in Provence , Bistro Jeanty in Yountville, Napa Valley, has never disappointed!
Tarte au citron meringuée, fromage de chèvre, noix et miel! Ils étaient magnifiques et tellement français!

Sunshine, blue skies, charming countryside, vineyards, olive trees, neatly cropped lavender, delicious food and wine with special friends, my favorite things, here and there!

There were things which reminded me which Continent we were in, the limo parked outside the winery!

Californian architecture and of course Palm trees!

Shopping, lots of shopping, why does the dollar go so much further!!!?

Download the Carmel-by-the-Sea, Travel Guide  

and

The San Francisco Travel Guide  ~ ideas where to stay, eat and play!

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Cars, speed, racing and male testosterone………those same components that consumed the atmosphere at '24 Heures du Mans'. Such sentiments were just as effervescent when I watched my lovely son, James, racing in the Sports Club of America, (SCCA), Mazda Spec Miata, series at Sonoma Raceway, California.

About 70 specially spec Mazda Miatas, growling like hungry tigers, eagerly snarling on the starting grid at Sonoma Raceway.

Impatiently revving their engines, waiting for the flag to drop, signaling their permission to screech onto the track. Ready to scream up through the gears, 'pedal to the metal' and hurtle themselves into the chicanes of the Sonoma Raceway.

Jostling for position, daring to take the 'racing line' into the corners as tightly as possible......  Roaring engines, gears shifting, clouds of brake dust, loving the complete exhilaration on the Sonoma Raceway!

What happened to my little boy lying on his tummy, whizzing toy cars across the floor, making car noises........I guess he grew up!

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I called my blog ‘sunflowers and shutters’ because they are a few of the images embedded in my heart when I think of southern France. In my 6 months there I actually never saw any sunflowers but I did yesterday, not in Provence but in the beautiful Napa Valley, California.

Eating a delicious lunch at the stunning Farmstead Restaurant, just outside charming St Helena, savouring all the fresh flavours, handpicked that morning from the restaurant’s organic garden,

Sipping my favourite bold, oakey, buttery and I realize very passé Californian Chardonnay (a deliciousness you can only get here!) - with special friends, I remembered why we moved to California so long ago.

Things I love in Provence, the lavender, the vineyards, the sunflowers, all basking under azure blue skies, well they are here too………

True, no shutters or medieval streets, 1874 was as old as it got yesterday, (but still impressive!), it really gives you pause for thought!

The lush and bountiful vineyards of the Napa Valley, flanked either side by the rolling golden Californian hills are just a 45 minute drive from my Californian home.

As I sat there discussing plans to visit Carmel, another very much beloved Californian stunner, I could see my lovely daughter’s smiling face……”Yes Mummy it is pretty special here!” It doesn’t in any way dilute my passion for those ancient cobbled streets guarding their age old secrets between the shutters. Neither can that unique beguiling atmosphere be found here, it belongs there.........

but where do I belong……….?
What a question to ponder, I’ll keep you posted!!!

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