SONOMA, Calif. — It is not the perfume that seduces, but sound.

Or so it was for me one summer morning as I toured a lavender farm in the Sonoma Valley here, Napa’s lesser-known neighbor, which in recent years has become a haven for that herb’s enthusiasts. Swollen tufts of violet and green shifted in the breeze like beach balls ready to take flight. There was a whisper of sweetness in the air, the fragrant oil from flowering stalks clinging to fingertips and pants legs at the slightest brush.

What attracted me, though  stopping me as I walked down a gravel path  was a drone that seemed to pulsate amid the quiet. Was it traffic from a nearby road? An air-conditioner set on low? Neither. Instead the field vibrated with the hum of thousands of bees shifting among blossoms, a waltz of elegance and economy.

A lavender field, it seems, is an intoxicating but very busy place.

Provence is well known for its purple highways. There the French have devised herbal factories where vast acres of lavender are grown for use in essential oils, sachets, bath products, tea and honey. But in the past decade Americans too have come to value its culinary and aromatic attributes. As a result, lavender farms have sprung up in small towns from Texas to California to Washington State.

For those unable to wander among the sun-soaked fields of southern France, the Sonoma Valley is a civilized alternative. Nestled between the Pacific Ocean and the more crowded Napa Valley, it retains much of the rural charm of California. At a farmer’s market in Santa Rosa one Wednesday night, a woman sold fresh bundled lavender for $1, the fragrant bouquets stacked two feet high. In June and July many of the area’s small growers invite guests to browse blooming fields at their peak. And restaurants liberally use lavender in place of rosemary or thyme in drinks and summer dishes.