South of France: Apple Picking in Autumn

There is a moment, when summer fades and the Provençal light softens, that the land itself seems to breathe differently. The air turns crisp, and the orchards of Provence begin to whisper a new season's promise. It is here, in the heart of Vidauban, at the enchanting Château d'Astros, that apple picking becomes an autumn pastime and also  a celebration of color, scent, and time itself.

A Harvest of Colors and Scents
The morning we arrived, the sky was a watercolor of pale blue and silver, the kind of light that only Provence can create. Rows upon rows of apple trees stretched before us, their branches heavy with fruit - Golden, Gala, Pink Lady, and the crisp Reinette, each variety glowing with its own hue.
With wicker baskets in hand, we wandered between the rows, the grass soft underfoot, the scent of ripe apples mingling with the distant hum of bees. Every apple seemed a jewel, some streaked with sunset reds, others blushing in gentle gold.
Children who came from local schools laughed as they reached for the highest branches, while couples strolled slowly, filling their baskets one by one. The rhythm of the harvest was unhurried, peaceful, a reminder that here, nature dictates the pace.

The Taste of Provence in Every Bite
Back at the château's courtyard, we gathered beneath the shade of ancient trees to taste the fruits of our morning. There was a sweetness unlike any other, crisp yet delicate, perfumed with Provençal sunlight. Paired with a chilled glass of Astros rosé, the apples seemed to tell the story of the land itself: fertile, balanced, and touched by warmth.
For the château's team, this annual harvest is both a tradition and a way of reconnecting with the essence of Provence, a celebration of terroir beyond the vineyard, of craftsmanship that begins in the soil and ends in simple, sensory joy.

An Invitation to Slow Down
Apple picking at Château d'Astros is a gentle ritual, an invitation to slow down, breathe in the scent of autumn, and touch the quiet beauty of Provence with your own hands.
As the sun began to dip behind the cypress trees, baskets now brimming with the colors of the season, we lingered a little longer,,reluctant to leave the soft rustle of leaves, the golden air, the taste of a perfect apple fresh from the branch.