Les Tilleuls, a charming bed and breakfast just outside Roussillon, one of the nationally-designated 100 most beautiful villages in France, in the heart of the regional park of the Luberon, is the perfect base from which to explore the beauty of Provence, or to relax in blissful serenity.

Follow the ancient road down from Roussillon, the ochre red village on the hill, as it winds down through vineyards and almond tree groves. To the west, the sky is perfectly bisected by the horizontal line of the Luberon mountains. To the north, the little town of Joucas nestles in the foothills of the Vaucluse. In the distance, rising like a Provençal acropolis, the burnished white stone of Gordes glistens in the sunlight, a cubist painting of severe, elegant angles. Perhaps a brightly-colored hot air balloon drifts overhead, like something out of a child's storybook.

Located on one of France's noted walking trails (les chemins de grande randonnée), this classic French farmhouse is a place where lovers of nature and tranquility will find an entrancing and secluded haven, with hidden gardens and sweeping views. Listen to the cicadas as you unwind by the swimming pool, surrounded by oversized, antique clay urns.

an espritprovence club member
recommended by 'guide 2012 des chambres d'hôtes de charme en France (Payot & Rivages)'

My Visits to Provence
by Vanina Marsot

Every time I come to Les Tilleuls, I discover another aspect of Provence.  In summer, the days are languid and warm.  We explore the tiny towns of the Luberon and come back to evenings filled with the light rosé wine the region produces in countless local vineyards and the soothing sounds of cicadas.  The light is so astoundingly crisp that you immediately understand why so many painters flocked to the region.  It makes me long for paper and watercolors, though I don't paint.  The garden is lush with roses, blooming rosemary, fruit trees, and pink oleander.  We go for leisurely walks, following the cleverly marked paths, and enjoy a refreshing dip in the pool, only to fall asleep under our books, lulled by the peace and quiet.  I love to wake up early and hike up the back road to Roussillon, where pine trees dot the red-earthed hillside.  In the morning light, the view is as picturesque as any postcard you'll find in town, and the walk is like a meditation.  I continue on to the boulangerie for a croissant, fresh from the oven, because even aspiring students of zen need flaky French pastry. 

In autumn, the market days are less crowded, and all of Provence takes on a more intimate feeling: the summer visitors have gone, and we have longer conversations in the market, with the cheese lady and the North African biscuit man. We buy lunch pizzas from various pizza trucks, having discovered them through Patricia Wells' essay, and debate the merits of artichoke versus olive toppings.  The days are shorter, the sun sets earlier over Gordes, and twilight arrives swiftly.  After an early gourmet dinner in Lourmarin or Lacoste, we sit in the upstairs winter garden, watching the twinkling lights of neighboring Joucas, and write postcards or fight epic battles of Scrabble.

In winter, the light is further fine-tuned, as if the cooler weather has crystallized the countryside.  A perfect day starts with crusty bread slathered with home-made plum jam.  Perhaps today, we'll look for antique bed linens in l'Isle sur la Sorgue.  Magnificent sunsets turn the sky a fuschia pink, and I sit on the old stone wall in the garden, listening to the birds, and waiting for the first star.  Sometimes there is a fire in the fireplace, and the smell of woodsmoke fills the air.  I always sleep well, and there is always something new to discover. 

I must come back in spring.

Vanina Marsot is a writer based in Los Angeles and Paris. She is a frequent guest at Les Tilleuls.