It carried me back to childhood days at my grandparent’s farming town in Michigan. Local farmers purveying their wares, in this case vignerons showing off their wines, and the villagers grazing from stand to stand, comparing, (secretly of course) greeting neighbors, exchanging news.
On the square in front of the Mairie (Town Hall) tables heaved under sausages, frites and brochettes of grilled duck. Children tilted somersaults on the lawn and a 10 piece blues band wailed American oldies – imagine “Mustang Sally” and “When a Man Loves a Woman” with saxophone sexiness and an endearing French accent. We leapt to our feet when “I Feel Good” began to belt and danced with the somersaulting children who seemed to understand better than their parents the incredible marvelousness of the moment.
Juillac is a tiny town with a wine making history dating to the Romans, a jewel of a Romanesque church and a blessed geology that some compare to St. Emilion. Old traditions weave the community together. After the food and wine, it’s midnight fireworks, dancing to the wee hours and a pinch of a picturesque scuffle just to keep things snappy.
Barrels of fun.
2 thoughts on “La Fête du Village”
I wish I was there!
John looks great and Henri looks just like him at that age!