We walked through the gates of Monet’s Garden on a bright spring day. Around a quiet corner, we met an artist with his back to the most famous landscapes. While everyone else gaped at the blooming lily pond and the famous emerald green bridge, the kids snuck quietly behind him to see what it was he was capturing. He gave them a sly smile and his eyes twinkled in the shadow of his black beret. He explained that he was painting the greenhouses of Giverny, and the kids looked at him quizzically.
He asked us why we were here in spring. “To see the most beautiful garden in the world in bloom,” we replied.
He said, “Something is blooming all year if you are quiet and know where to look.” He described Giverny as a fragrant kingdom of flowers every day, from lilacs and irises to chrysanthemums and nasturtiums. Azaleas, hydrangeas, foxgloves, hollyhocks, forget-me-nots, and violets intermingle, blooming in succession across the landscape. He shared how roses adorn the ground, bushes, hedges, and trellises, climbing walls or entwining pillars and arches along the central path. He explained how the water gardens have a magnetism with their reflective allure. Rare and common plants, from simple ground cover, to clusters of sweet grasses, span a spectrum of hues, some so subtle they evade the notice of passersby.
Realizing the kids were rapt in his descriptions, he shared his thoughts on the unassuming greenhouses and how they have nurtured countless blooms for centuries, their antique iron-and-glass structures serving as sanctuaries for some of the earth’s most precious seeds. He believed there was a charm to these historic cocoons that compelled him to capture them in paint. Yes, the spring calls many people here, but every day, in every way, something is blooming, right in this little corner of the world. He then said, “My favorite quote from Monet is, ‘I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.’”
We will never forget the sound of his painter’s stool shifting in the pea gravel path to face the kids, “Tell me, what other blooms have you seen? Take me with you around the world through your stories today…”
Before we left him, he let each of the kids pick a color they loved from his well-loved pencils. He gave them one last piece of wisdom, “Find a quiet spot to sit before you leave this garden and sketch a bloom that catches your eye. This way, wherever you go in this beautiful world, Giverny goes with you.”
As we walked away, we realized we didn’t know his name and turned back around the winding path to ask him. As the perfect end to this story that only real life can provide, he was gone, just moments after we had left him. This has happened so many times in our travels. Teachers show up around every corner, where we least expect them, and change the course of our lives.
We met this nameless artist at the beginning of our travels in our first spring after leaving the USA. This blog is dedicated to the blooms we would describe to him if we were to meet again…
Tulips carpet parts of Washington State in the springtime. This, in itself is not rare, as we have seen them in The Netherlands and Canada too. What makes Washington Tulips worth describing is how the mountains and the sea frame the fields leaving visitors breathless.
The Irish spring has something that cannot be captured in words. Stories seep from the weeping willows, as the barking frogs canopied by proud magnolia blossoms, serenade Mother Nature. The darkest corners turn into the most blinding light. Leave an offering on the witch’s rock and duck back through the stone gate dripping with bluebell creepers.
While Indonesia and Hawaii are typically characterized by wet and dry seasons, versus winter, spring, summer, and fall, the red frangipani and Chinese hibiscus blooms put on a show in springtime. The birds of paradise are truly something to gaze upon in wonder as the sweet coconut breeze shakes the sturdy leaves of the tropical flora.
When we arrived in New Zealand in November, Spring was in full bloom. The kōwhai trees shade new lambs resting in daisy-filled meadows. The earth is wet and smells of promise. We will never forget this moment because in the Northern Hemisphere, November means autumn, but in Aotearoa (Māori-language name for New Zealand) spring’s new life was bursting around us!
Finally we would tell our French artist friend something we are sure he already knows. Nothing tastes better than an apple in fall, or a tomato in summer, grown in Grandma and Grandpa’s garden.
As we sat in La Capucine, a nearby café and garden, eating our crepes topped with raspberry-rose sorbet, the swallows dove around us. After a few minutes, the kids bubbled with questions about where they hope to explore in the coming years. We would love to see Antelope Valley bloom in CA, the cherry trees in Kyoto Japan, the glow of spring under the midnight sun in Lapland…
When we think of our friend now, we picture him in Giverny’s buttery yellow dining room where Monet often hosted other impressionist painters such as Renoir and Cézanne. In our mind’s eye, our friend is enjoying Déjeuner sur l’herbe with a symphony of birdsong draping the flung open windows.
One thing we know for sure in the 10 years since we visited Giverny is… “The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” – Anais Nin
