The Captain's Garden

Captain La Loutre appeared at the garden gate, wheeling a large cart loaded with snacks, a bucket of ice, an old-fashioned seltzer dispenser, and several different bottles of whiskey. I went with 12 year old Highland Park with a splash of Volvic. The afternoon was perfect. Blaireau and La Loutre chatted away in French, about old times I guessed but I understood nothing. They laughed and shouted a lot. I let them be and wandered around the garden, sipping my scotch and admiring La Loutre's handiwork.
After a while La Loutre went back into the house and Blaireau came over to me. "Capitaine La Loutre was my commandant, in the Legion, but that was many, many years ago and far away, in St. Pierre & Miquelon. Le Capitaine is retired now, and this garden is now his avocation."
"St. Pierre & Miquelon! Isn't that in the North Atlantic? What business did the Legion have there?" To tell the truth it was hard to imagine either of them as any sort of soldier.
"It is France, St. Pierre & Miquelon. We protect it." Blaireau said, indignantly.
I let that go. No skin off my back one way or the other.
"He has six sons!" Blaireau continued. "The oldest, Lazare Jules, now takes care of the farm."
"Farm?"
"Oh yes, this garden is just a small piece of the farm. Le Capitaine inherit the farm from his father. It is many generations in the La Loutre family. They grow vegetables and fruit, make wine, and raise cows,chickens and pigs, make cheese. You are lucky, mon ami. You will taste real food tonight. All that we eat will be from the farm."
"Sounds delightful." I said, sincerely. I poured a third whiskey and we toasted La Loutre's farm. "Six sons, did you say."
"Yes, attend - " Blaireau's eyes rolled in concentration: "Lucien Georges, he is the second, he is in the Army. Louis Paul is third, he is in the Legion. Laurent Jean is in the Navy. Léger Emil is at the university and the youngest, Léonard Albert is in high school."
Pretty impressive that Blaireau remembered all their first and middle names. From the way he and the Capitaine had been carrying on I reckoned it had been years since they had seen or spoken to each other.
La Loutre reappeared at the gate and shouted "à table!" Blaireau put his drink down on the table. I looked at my half full glass. "Laisse ça" he instructed and I obeyed. The parasol over the table was a wild shade of blue. The garden had a lot of wild color to it. It crossed my mind that maybe le Capitaine was on the wild side too. We followed La Loutre up the marble steps, through the portico and into the house.