Poppies outside Pernes-les-Fontaines

It was market day in our little town, the stands set up on a street along a wall overlooking the old moat, so we set out to explore. It was la Provence condensed at our feet: baskets of lavender sachets, big rounds of cheese, local wine, bowls of olives and tapenade, piles of apricots, cherries, tomatoes and intense little melons, huge stalks of violet garlic, olive oil, packets of grains we never eat at home, herbes de Provence, lavender honey, stacks of jars of homemade jam and fresh offerings from the bakery.

As I indulged in this feast for the senses, I also found the one thing Maurice had been looking for: a pair of flip-flops big enough for his feet, as the ones he had brought broke immediately upon arrival.

Sharing wine on his porch the other night, Dewey had mentioned he could probably take a walk with me sometime but he’d only be good for a couple miles. I had a map from the tourist office with a few short easy trails on the outskirts of town so I had sent Maurice over last night to invite Dewey on today’s walk. Jenelle seemed surprised that he wanted to do this. But Dewey was ready and waiting at the market, so after I handed my purchases to Maurice, off we went, Dewey and I. Except that we didn’t know exactly where we were going, as we were following Maurice’s suggestion to just start right where we were rather than at the beginning but for some reason had decided to do the walk in the opposite direction. We strolled down the street, as Dewey doesn’t go too fast. The markings that the trail brochure promised were not there so we made turns where it seemed like a good idea as we referred to the map without street names. Eventually and purely by happenstance we had a pleasant amble along a canal with wildflowers and dragonflies, then turned back to town.

At the main street, to our delight we spotted the missing trail markings; they were only visible from the proper direction. “Let’s walk it for another 20 or 30 minutes,” said Dewey, so we did. Soon we were on a path by another cool and quiet canal hidden from the surrounding streets by trees and high foliage and dotted with birdsong.

We went as far as a small footbridge and turned around, arriving back just at the right time to meet Jenelle for lunch.

The artists went back to painting and I went to look at Pernes-les-Fontaines’ sights.

Maurice painting near the bridge (look hard!)

I had been warned by some of the ladies to avoid the toilet at the bar but I’d heard there was one at a parking lot where a fair was set up. I had seen posters promoting the fair advertising “alternative nourishment” so I assumed it was a liberal gathering of some sort; indeed, the first booth I saw was Greenpeace. I glanced around further: Fluffy donkeys with ladies hugging them. A mama-pedal-powered merry-go-round for little ones. A stand offering…dried bugs and worms? Yes, there was the alternative nourishment. I heard Jerry calling. He had a beer from a tent that, if he returned his disposable cup, would refund his one euro. We went over to see if that was true, and it was. “I thought they might have ground up insects or something like that,” commented Jerry. “Right this way,” I told him. We went to see the alternative nourishment close up. No one else was there and the proprietor was happy to see us, offering samples. Jerry popped in a few small dried crickets. “Tastes like potato chips,” he said.

Would he like to try the worms? They were very small and flat. Jerry requested the spicy barbecue flavor. Then he bought a box of them. As they weren’t cheap, I don’t know how those little packages are going to feed the world.