Monday I decided to take a stroll down the Canal du Midi and around the small, but gorgeous, Compans Japanese Garden. I was in a frustrated mood from being hit on earlier that day by two 30+ year old french guys. I needed nature. At Sewanee, nature was easy to come by. Simply stride all of ten steps from any dorm and your feet would land on grass, a hiking trail, or both. We don't appreciate it, do we? The way Nature gives us beauty and solitude and complete understanding. She listens to all of our problems and quiets our fears. We treat her like we're doing her a favor by hiking her trails or lying in her meadows when she'd still have such things far after we're gone. Anyways, yes, I needed nature.
Entering the garden my eyes drank in the brilliant green of the trees and grass, the tart pink of the flowers, the cool feeling of the wind combined with spray from the water jet in the pond. As I stood there for a minute I noticed a man ahead seemingly kneeling by the water's edge. I had to get some pictures....his quiet presence there seemed picture postcard worthy.
So I pulled out my camera, snapped two photos, and I was just about to abandon the spot when an elderly woman came walking toward this man. She knelt with him there by the water, and I felt almost embarrassed to be intruding on their moment. Instead I walked toward the couple. Coming within a few feet I could see what they were looking at. Fishes! 
The old man wasn't kneeling, he was sitting and fishing. Beside him sat a bucket of water for his catch, a dirty rag for wiping his hands and his tackle box. And the woman, his wife, had been inspecting the small fish in the water, too tiny to catch but there all the same. 
No idea why, but this couple, the man fishing and the woman watching, was so calm and happy that I couldn't tear myself away. I had to snap more photos. So, mustering my best 'puppy dog eyes' face and my best french accent I introduced myself. "Hi. I'm sorry to bother you but I caught some photos of you. Maybe you'd like to see? I am an American student here, just a tourist I guess." After husband and wife inspecting a couple of photos he smiled and went back to fishing. She seemed shy but appreciative of the moment I'd caught on film. "May I take some more? I won't be loud. I won't scare the fishes." The man thought about it and nodded. The next two fish he proudly showed to me, warning me of their sharp fins and whiskers. The humble woman moved out of every photo I took until finally I took her hand and made her be in one. Even then she regarded me as a real photographer and wondered how she should stand and if I wanted her to smile. She and I spoke of her love for hiking and their love of the outdoors in general. This was their life. He fished, she walked some and watched some. It was simple and beautiful.
A couple of times I thought about leaving them to their spot, but I couldn't. I just wanted to be a part of their contentedness for a moment or two longer. Eventually though (after twenty minutes) the fish started being stubborn. It was time to excuse myself. "Avec plaisir et au revoir. I hope I didn't scare the fish but thank you for letting me take the photos and spend a moment with you."
-Tam in Toulouse
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