Well, I obviously never managed to post last week. We were so busy with our Bourgogne workshop, that there was never any time (or energy) to cope with more than basic e-mail, let alone sit down, compose a blog, and process some images for it.

Friday morning, before we officially started, Arnie and I went off to the local market town of the day and picked out fruits, cheeses, and other goodies for our reception. As we were leaving, I thrust my share of our purchases into Arnie’s arms and dashed back with my camera to capture one of the locals who was taking home a fresh loaf of bread. You can see that he was impatient for me to click the shutter so he could continue on his way!

Meanwhile, Florence, our hostess, had gone shopping for some traditional Bourgogne fare. All that, added to some wine we had sampled and bought, made for the makings of a very good feast and a festive evening when we returned from our first afternoon of shooting.

We had a blast. Our group instantly gelled, and as the wife of one, who flew over and joined her husband the last Thursday, said, she kept getting e-mails from him that he had never laughed so much. We weren’t far behind!

The weather was mostly cloudy, which initially discouraged our group, until they realized that overcast skies make for wonderful, saturated colors. When the sun did come out, they also saw how harsh it can be unless it is early morning or late afternoon.

Either way, it didn’t keep us from shooting, and we showed them the types of shots that work in harsh sun, as well as how to use the cloudy days to their advantage.

Our first afternoon saw puttering around one of our favorite little villages, home to some of the great grand crus in Bourgogne. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that we went to any little village that didn’t have grand crus! Some of my favorite shots in France have been garnered in this little town, and it was fun showing our group about and seeing what inspired them. I loved seeing them attracted to some of the same scenes and details that have always caught Arnie’s and my eyes.

Later, we returned to our hotel for our reception where we laid out the rough plans for the week, all dependent upon Mother Nature and what inspired the group. Give the success of our first afternoon, they seemed content to take our lead in locations.

Later, we returned to the same village, a mere ten minutes from the hotel. We were up in the vineyards as dusk settled and the lights came on in the villages below. It was so neat to see our group discover that one could shoot well after sunset.

The next morning, we gathered for imaging. It was great watching everyone’s photographs come alive as they edited and processed them. We were really enjoying their progress.

We returned to our little town for lunch before heading out for a long afternoon, first visiting the rose capital of Bourgogne, according to the town’s sign. France is known for it beautiful flowers, but there are more varieties of roses here than I have seen anywhere else, including some famous botanical gardens. Set against the wonderful textures of old stone and wood, they were a feast to photograph.

Our group was getting to know our mantras, and when we would check on how people were doing to help them, they were already making comments of “What was it you were saying about not wasting all those wonderful, expensive little pixels we paid for?” or “I think I have more than one subject here,” or “How did that sneak in to the edge of the picture?”

After several hours in that village, we continued on to a craggy, hilltop town, home to some great Haute-Cote de Beaune wines. I stopped in at a little cave where Arnie and I had a lovely time two years ago chatting with the owner’s wife while tasting wine. Everything was open, but I couldn’t raise a soul. I heard voices, and finally figured they were coming from above, around the other side of the building, and sure enough, I found the “son,” a gentleman who was enjoying his partial retirement as the next generations took over.

He came down to the tasting room, and after we sampled some wine and chatted with him, he posed for us, then invited us down into the real cave. I love the smell of those old caves, ever cool under their arched ceilings. Our host did some testing of wine for us, and our group was really excited to have gained access to this private area.

We had agreed to all meet by the fountain, and everyone wanted to stay longer. They were having so much fun and finding so much to photograph. Arnie and I had visited this village several times, so pointed our students in this direction or that to inspire or challenge them.

Eventually, we wended our way down off the hilltop and stopped in the valley below to take advantage of the late-afternoon light streaming across the vineyards.

Sunday was market day, a large one in another nearby town. That’s what I love about this area; everything is so close. There is so much to see and do without traveling more than a half hour.

We headed there first thing, so we wouldn’t miss anything. It was raining, so we all took our parapluis. All of the stalls were protected, some under traditional market halls, others under colorful tents. Everything looked so inviting and delicious. We challenged our group to ask permission to photograph at least one person at the market. “Oh no, do I have to?” mock-whined one of our group. This, of course, after he had said he would like to become more comfortable photographing people. We all laughed, and he completed the assignment with minimal angst.

In general, if you have never been to a European market, they are a riot of color, smells, textures, and people watching. We took it all in and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We even managed to get a few shots of our own, including one of two gentlemen here who shared a stall. They had been watching our group photograph and were determined that they were going to be photographed … individually, but when we tried to photograph one, the other jumped in. Obviously, one did not want to play second fiddle to the other!

We had a leisurely lunch in town, and eventually headed back to our digs for imaging. Everyone wanted to get in a few hours on that before we headed to Arnie’s and my favorite restaurant, a very short walk down the road. For those of you who have been following the blog, this is the one that, to our great disappointment, was closed when we arrived in Bourgogne.

I had brought alone some prints I had made of shots we did last time we were there. They recognized us instantly, a surprise, considering how many people they must have seen over the two years since we were last there. Then again, the last time we were there, I had photographed some good friends of theirs who were having a little reunion with their nephew.

We were sitting out in the charming courtyard for dinner, and I arranged them for a nice shot. In thanks, they invited me to join them for glass of very fine champagne. Arnie had gone back to our room to get one of our little flashes. By the time he returned a few minutes later, we were deep in conversation, laughing and thoroughly enjoying ourselves. They spoke a little English, but mostly, I translated back and forth. We continued our camaraderie, our tables close to each other, as we enjoyed our delicious, multi-course meals prepared by the owner/chef in a traditional wood-fired oven. Later, the owner and his wife joined us when all the other dinner guests had gone, and we sat deep into the night, enjoying each other’s company and sharing more than one good belly laugh.

So, it was really good to be back. We were a little nervous. You know how it is when you rave about something; you are always afraid that the reality for your friends will fall short of your enthusiastic accolades. Not so. Everyone loved the restaurant. One of the men had escargots that he said were the best he had ever had, and he had lived in Europe and spent quite a bit of time in France.

We lingered over dinner and went through quite a few bottles of wine we had picked up through tastings along the way.

Monday, after imaging and lunch at the nearby village, we headed to the little town along a pristine river with “les cascades.” This was the village where we met a gentleman who took us under his wing and served as self-appointed guide and historian when we were scouting the week before. The clouds and light rain really helped, as the reflections off the water were lovely.

The town was little, but it was packed with so much. And the water, it was so incredibly clear. Many jokes were made that they could be doing their laundry in the old, long, stone tubs along the river as people did centuries ago.

It was so peaceful, and everyone spread out and tried out new techniques. We showed them how to photograph water so it would have that lovely, fluid, featherly look.

Earlier, at lunch time, I had made reservations at another little restaurant located across the square. We arrived back earlier than expected, and I was able to move our time slot earlier. It still gave us time to go into the little wine shop and replenish our constantly diminishing supplies. After all, there was tomorrow’s lunch, and everyone, kicking and screaming, of course, had easily adopted the very civilized French custom of having a glass or two of wine with our p’tit sandwich, salade, or whatever.

Dinner, as always, was full of fun and frivolity, and we enjoyed our meal. For me, it was a repeat of the traditional Bourgogne meal I had enjoyed the previous week when we were scouting — Oeufs en Meurette aux Bourgogne (eggs poached in red wine with a sauce made from the reduction – fabulous) and Boeuf Bourgignon (very tender and tasty) from the famous white Charolais beef that dot so many of the fields that are not covered in vineyard or wheat. There were also the usual desserts with spun sugar, artful drizzles of chocolate, light-but-lethal concoctions, etc., and we all went back to the hotel well sated.

We were half way through our workshop with several more days to enjoy.

To be continued next week.

Comments are always welcome. Please feel free to post below by clicking on “comments”