Be in France for La Fête du Muguet

“It all sounded charming, I could hardly wait to check out La Fete du Muguet in Excideuil. Although it poured all day yesterday, today the sun was shining and I decided to walk into town along the railroad path to observe first-hand the families hauling away their loads of muguet. Save for an old man walking his dog, I had the woods to myself. I didn’t see any muguet either–plenty of buttercups, daisies, tiny purple violet like flowers, but no muguet. Perhaps it had all been hauled away. [...] Thirty minutes later, I was still walking. Up and down Exideuil’s steep, but practically deserted, streets. Not a sign of muguet. I was a bit disappointed. The whole thing, I decided, had probably faded into the mists of quaint but no longer observed customs. Sort of like Maypole dancing, does anyone do that anymore? And then I rounded the corner to see if the little market opposite cafe Rustique might be open so that I could buy a baguette and I almost laughed out loud. Sitting at the outdoor tables of the Rustique was a tatooed and pierced group of 20-somethings selling tiny bunches of muguet.”