Un De Mes Plus Beaux Jours
It was a gorgeous weekend, sunny and summer-hot. And wonder of wonders, there was an accordion festival nearby, which is how we came to spend one of the most beautiful days in recent memory. I know that Americans tend to scoff at the accordion, but there’s a wonderfully rich tradition of French accordion music, so a squeeze-box festival was my idea of perfect weekend entertainment.
We started out on foot, about 4 kilometers across green fields dotted with poppies. Arriving hot and more than a little wilted we joined a happy crowd, including a busload of Italian tourists, at picnic benches in the shade of the plane trees for lunch and refreshment. It was semi-hilarious to get steaming bowls of pork curry on a hot afternoon in France, but it tasted great with glass after glass of cool water and a pitcher of rosé.
Those who didn’t refresh themselves with pork curry and rosé managed as best they could.
Even the boule players seemed to be spending an awful lot of time in the shade.
The musicians were in full sun and full form.
This family of six were all accomplished musicians, even down to the littlest kid.
The scent of honeysuckle intoxicated the town and danced with the nostalgic music
while the bees and I buried our faces in the masses of flowers.
It was altogether one of those enchanted days, one of those days that is the best day of your life, until the next one comes along.