Elise Navarre grows forty kinds of vegetables on a single hectare below a hill village, and sells them every Saturday at a market stall that has been in her family for three generations.
She left an office job in her thirties. She does not romanticise what came after: the work is hard, the summers are getting hotter, and a hailstorm can take a month of income in ten minutes. But she has never wanted to go back.
People ask what I grow. I tell them: whatever the year allows.
