K. walked up and down the rows of grape vines, camera in hand looking for the lush vine, but like a celebrity, the sun was playing hide and seek and only the B-list grapes were out in number. He is a first class professional photographer with world-wide credits. He also immortalized my blond-haired, blue eyed daughter in a German language textbook.
I stood with his wife, who is also my cousin, S. waiting. Our job was to stay out of the way. We’d been searching for the right shorts, turning him into a Grape Paparazzi, I quipped.
I’ve shared Christmases and jazz in Garmish, fondues in Switzerland, vendages in Beaujolais country, and meals and good conversation in the North End of Boston for several decades with them. Thus when I heard they were going to be in France I hotfooted myself to the train station to join them in Bordeaux. Even a train strike couldn’t keep me away, I just added a day to the trip.
And I wasn’t disappointed as we drove through wine country, poked a bit around Bordeaux, ate great food and stopped whenever there was a good shot. Stopping for any possible good photo, is part of the pleasure of spending time with them as is the great conversation.
They say you chose your family, not your friends, but I am happy to put a check under both categories. Now if I could just convince them that they need to live on this continent again…
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