My Nuts Are Getting Wet

Some of our most memorable moments in the Dordogne came from getting lost. On our way to find a walnut farm, we followed one of the myriad of hand-painted signs that mark local farms and purveyors. For what felt like miles we wound through the hills, forests, and down a narrow one lane muddy road until, poof, the signs disappeared. Despite our backtracking efforts (right), we never did find the walnut farm. But we did happen upon the smallest of the Bastides, medieval fortified towns, of the Dordogne called Molieres. It is also one of the unfinished bastide towns and is rumored to have a ghost. When we arrived on a rainy, drizzly fall day, we didn't see a ghost or much of anything for that matter. The streets were eerily quiet, the shops closed up for lunch time, and the lone arcade on the market square seemed to be holding some secrets. We walked through it and on a bench nearby, we spotted a crate of walnuts. We looked at them, curious how they arrived there, and were anxious to see who would rescue them from the increasing rain. Within minutes we heard the familiar shuffle of an old man too tired to lift his knees. In his adorable beret hat and purple sweater, he inched his way toward us (actually toward his walnuts). I grabbed my camera and told Laura, "This is it. This is the photo." Our photographer had stayed back to work on his own book so it was up to me to grab The One!!!. I set the light meter; I asked the nut guy in my best (worst) French if i could take his photo. He said "oui", but refused to stand still. He had another mission. Before I could click, and more importantly, focus, he started moving toward me, saying, in his best English, "Excuse me, my nuts are getting wet."

I ask you...Who can focus after a comment like that?!

Still, I love this (blurry) photo for the memories it brings. And he did rescue his nuts.

Moral of the story: 1. Getting lost is good. 2. Never let the real photographer stay behind. 3. Beware of getting in the way of a man and his wet nuts.