Another Glorious Day in Gascony

Weather Report from the sun-soaked Southwest France

Esprit Meraki Retreats From Troubled to Triumphant: Finding Solid Ground During a LIfe Quake Retreat Walking and Writing Retreat: Find Insight and Inspiration with Every Step Tick-off-Your-Bucket-List Camino de Santiago Walking Retreat Book Lover’s Binge Reading Retreat and Christmas Binge Reading Retreat

Picture this: a soft, golden sunrise brushing over rolling vineyards, a light breeze carrying hints of wild thyme and lavender, and skies so blue, they’ll make you wonder if you’ve stepped into a painting.

In Gascony, even the rain knows its place. It shows up when the flowers need a drink, then politely steps aside to let the sunshine work its magic. Mornings are made for fresh air and espresso on the terrace, while afternoons stretch on, drenched in dappled sunlight, ideal for a leisurely walk through medieval villages.

Evenings? They’re a masterpiece. Skies blush in shades of pink and purple, and stars start to dot the horizon. Suddenly, you’re convinced there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

The long, lazy summers, continue well into October and finally often end with an “été Indien” (warm autumn) before the onset of winter in late December.

Drenched for nearly 9 months of the year in sunshine, Gascony is excellent for outdoor recreational activities and almost year-round al-fresco dining. While good weather cannot be guaranteed, during the summer months, it is often very hot during the day and temperatures reach into the high 20s °C, with spring and autumn temperatures hovering in the low to mid-20s °C.

Mid-summer is very hot and dry, the temperatures often exceed 30°C. The annual rainfall varies from more than 900 mm in the southwest of the department to less than 700 mm in the northeast. Even the weather conspires to make this the ultimate place to relax!

Come for the weather, stay for the magic. Gascony has it all—sunshine, scenery, and a little sprinkling of romance.

Lillie’s Inspiration

Lillie arrived at a Walking and Writing in the Southwest of France with a half-finished novel she’d meant to finish years ago, a battered journal, and a mind full of ideas. She found herself captivated by the tranquil beauty of the surroundings and, most unexpectedly, by the weather itself. Each morning, she awoke to a gentle mist that hung in the air, softly blanketing the fields and creating a cocoon of calm. By 9 o’clock, the sun would break through, warming the earth, and the countryside seemed to glow. The light shifted throughout the day, painting scenes she eagerly described in her journal—soft grays, vivid greens, and radiant golds.

Afternoons in the Gers turned out to be like opening a window into a dream. The breeze would pick up just enough to rustle the leaves of the vines, whispering secrets only she could hear. Lillie walked sections of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, past sun-drenched fields, wildflowers bending in the breeze and through ancient woods. The cool breezes and the scent of the fresh air felt rejuvenating, sparking ideas she hadn’t felt in months. She found herself writing pages effortlessly, immersed in the rhythm of nature that seemed to ignite her creativity.

But it was the evenings that stole her heart. Every sunset in Gascony felt like it had been painted just for her. She’d sit on the terrace with a glass of wine, watching the sky melt from gold to rose to a soft violet that seemed to linger, like it didn’t want to leave. That’s when the words would come, faster than ever, and she’d find herself scribbling on napkins, on receipts, on anything she could grab before the thoughts drifted off with the last of the light.

At the end of her stay, Lillie shared that the weather had given her a new perspective on her writing—she had written page after page of her novel, but it was more than that. Gascony had seeped into her bones, leaving her with a peace she’d never known. As she packed her suitcase, she found herself smiling at the warm scarves she’d brought, and never needed.

“It’s really a drag to sit around when you’re old, and think, ‘Ah, gee, I never went to France.’ Go to France. Life is very short; you’ve got to pack it all in there.” — Grace Slick