A Typical Day

It begins before dawn, which only means about 7:00 because we're so far north. I start the coffee, and after a restorative cup I slip outside to fetch our croissants. The boulangerie is right next door, and Madame helps me sort out the change with a cheerful smile. There's a lot of talking for such a short transaction - Bonjour, madame, Je voudrais deux baguettes, s'il vous plait, merci, madame, au revoir, bonne journee. The croissants are flaky and still warm. We eat them with apricot jam. But being Americans, we can't live for six hours on a single croissant, so we have muesli with "half-skim" (all we could find, and it tastes like cream) and fruit.

Today we're setting off for a walk entitled "From baguette to bistro" which promises to take us to some wonderful cheese, chocolate and butcher shops. We'll have lunch afterwards, maybe purchased from our last stop, and then wander over to the Cluny Museum, stopping at some point for a cup of something at Cafe Deux Magots.

Dinner is planned at l'Absinthe on the Left Bank, but we could just as easily walk around the corner to one of the places we've been to the last few nights. Ahhh...

Gardens

I am not expecting to see inspiring gardens on this trip, since formal French gardens do not move me, and that's what we'll encounter. Nevertheless, here are a few pictures from the Tuileries Gardens. I was surprised to see irises blooming in late October. Otherwise, these borders, surrounding perfectly placed and clipped lavender bushes, were filled with cosmos, enormous marigolds, salvias, and dahlias in shades of pink and purple.

Part of the gardens are filled with these trees in perfect lines. No grass or anything else dares to grow between them. They rise straight up out of the dry soil like soldiers.

 

Some of the dahlias that were in full and delicious bloom.

 

I suspected and confirmed with French Google that this is a castor bean plant. But I don't remember these incredible seedheads.

 

Here's a better view of the whole plant.

 

A view of one of the beds, filled with salvia, cosmos, etc. You can see the pleached (?) row of trees in the background, forming a hedge around the Tuileries. I wonder what it looks like after the leaves have fallen.

 

This was a beautiful afternoon, coolish but with a low sun that warmed us up. We strolled through here after a nice lunch at Angelina's, full of omelette and chocolate. It was perfect for sitting and watching the people, or perhaps closing one's eyes behind the sunglasses.

 

First day

Our first real day in Paris was filled with iconic tourist spots. The weather was brisk but sunny, and I had to buy a hat and gloves on the Ile de la Cite. Sadly, the hat makes me look exactly like Miss Marple, but no one knows me here but Alison, so I decided it's okay.

We walked through the Louvre on the way to Notre Dame. It was about 9:00, but the sun rises late enough that we felt we were there early. Henri is looking quite dashing on this statue in the courtyard. Whoops, no, it's Louis Quatorze, the Sun King.

 

A view up the Seine as we walked to l'Ile de la Cite.

 

This seems to be the thing to do along the Pont Neuf (or des Arts?) - locks, often with names inscribed.

 

This wonderful statue of Henri II (Vert, he was apparently a ladies' man) stands at the end of the Ile.

 

We walked along the quai until we turned into the street for Notre Dame. I was there in 1966 but have very few memories of it. I loved the ironwork on the doors.

 

Of course, the windows are gorgeous, even if the details are a bit vague.

 

Along the outside of the choir are painted statues that tell the illiterate (and the ill-educated) the story of Jesus. I thought this picture of Mary after the birth of Christ was a bit odd - doesn't she look simply outdone with Joseph and the animals? I'm sure that I'm misinterpreting...

 

My other favorite was on the central portal, showing St. Michael and the devil divvying up the souls at Judgment Day. Just below it is a picture of the dead lifting up the lids of their coffins and hopping out.

 

Two views of Notre Dame, one from the side and the other from across the Seine.

 

 

Of course, you really want to know what we ate: muesli and half-skim from the supermarket for breakfast, lunch at a little place on the Ile St. Louis, which I loved. I had salad with walnuts, a galette with cheese, onions and egg, and apple compote with whipped cream. Tonight we are off to Cafe le Nemours near the Louvre for dinner. I very bravely called the restaurant and had a confusing but ultimately satisfying conversation with the nice person. We have booked for 7:00, so I'm sure we'll be the only ones there. We'll see if it works...

We're here

The flight and shuttle worked beautifully. Apart from Alison's getting locked in a pitch-black restaurant bathroom, and the apartment being lovely but without a single hook or shelf, all is well. And the wifi works! More later.

Last blooms

Physostegia virginica (false dragonhead), beloved by bees

 

Perovskia (Russian sage)

 

A few zinnias that survived the drought

 

Volunteer morning glory

 

Pansies

 

Woodland aster under the maple tree

 

My new favorite sedum, also beloved by bees

 

Who knows what will be left when we return in a week?

Book report

Geoffrey B. Charlesworth came recommended in another gardening book, I forget which one. Although he is (or was?) a rock gardener living in the Berkshires, and therefore much of his advice has to be tempered for drought-ridden Zone 7, his book of essays is a delight. I particularly enjoyed the last three pieces, describing a perfect (gardening) day, a less than ideal day and a third kind of day. His advice to be patient, and his description of the excitement of planning a new bed apply to all gardeners. And his ditty about why your plants have died is a classic:
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You hoed it down. You weeded it.
You planted it the wrong way up.
You grew it in a yoghurt cup
But you forgot to make a hole;
The soggy compost took its toll...

Fall Beauties

A few delights from the fall garden this year.

The autumn crocus (colchicum) is bright and cheerful, though I think it does better tucked into corners than right in front of a hydrangea where I put this one.

 

This is my new favorite, Sedum Sieboldii. Its grayish leaves and sprawling habit make it work well against the stone wall. It gets morning sun, midday shade and then a blast of afternoon sun and seems to be doing fine without full sun.

 

And this is the dahlia that just goes on and on! The plant itself looks like hell, but it keeps throwing these gorgeous blooms. As God is my witness, I will treat it better next year by putting it in full sun and staking it.

 

This aster just appeared in the front garden, and it actually works. One way you know it's a native is that it is absolutely covered with butterflies:

 

And this ghostly creature is colchicum autumnale 'Alboplenum.' It's supposed to be elegant and beautiful, but I think it looks dwarfish and creepy.