Sunday in the Park

Staring the need to work some, and play golf (last opportunity for four weeks) in the face, I woke early and went looking for my café and croissant (I've about given up on the fatback and grits idea).  I decided it was time I kept another promise to myself so I headed toward the train station.  Across from the train station there is a restaurant I was pretty sure would be open.  Even if it wasn't, I knew a continental breakfast would be available in the station.  And across from the station is the Jardin des Plantes (Garden of Plants).  Jardin des Plantes.

I 've been passing this garden now for six months.  It is surrounded by high hedges offering only fleeting glimpses of what is obviously a wonderful place sequestered in the heart of the city.  Every time I pass I would promise myself I would set aside a couple of hours one weekend and see it.  This morning I determined to make good on that promise.

It began as a medicinal plant enclave just outside the city wall in 1688.  Evidently some of the medicinal properties of the plants remain since it has fallen into disuse several times only to spring back to life in new and ever more exotic form over the past three hundred years.   Today's garden contains over 11,000 species of plants and trees, many from the United States.

Entering from the south-east corner from the Boulevard de Stalingrad

A petting zoo for the wee ones

A refreshment stand for all

The beginning of the beautiful

The "rope garden" near the entrance

(The Lynard-Skynard section)

A variety of species here, too

"Why can't we all just get along."
(Rodney King, 1991)

High rise, multifamily dwelling

Low-rise, multifamily, state-sponsored dwelling.
In all societies some levels of freedom must be surrendered for security.  The question is always, "How much?"

I guess not all caged things are unhappy.  There's time, and security, to pitch a little woo.

The gentleman owning these lifeholdings entered with me when the park opened.  Not allowed to sleep here, he made for the park and its bathroom for his morning ablutions as soon as it opened.
Not all "freedom" is free.  I suspect he's as caged as the parakeets.

Seeing this my thought was "society's detritus." 
On confirming the meaning I thought how apropos:
1) ...or other material worn or broken away from a mass...(he's not part of us...is he?)
2) any disintegrated material; debris

But life goes on...for both of us.

I don't know what these flowers are, but they are quite beautiful.
The webpage mentions 600 varieties of camilia.  I don't know.


(Where's my buddy Carl D.?  He'd know)

They remind me of chrysanthemums...which, in turn, reminds me of Steinbeck's 'The Chrysanthemums,' undoubtedly one of the greatest short stories every written.

The designers definitely have "the eye."  Notice the way they use the yellow trimmed shrubs to set off the flowers in front of them.

Then use the white ones here to set off their bedmates.

Why am I reminded of Procol Harum?

Drawing your eyes "up the shoot."

Where lurks a little waterfall.

A magnificent, and interesting, Serbian conifer

And behind the conifer, a mother and child gaze upon the pond. 

A mother and child, or The Mother and Child?

I believe this may be the 219 year-old Magnolia mentioned in the Wikipedia writeup.

 

With bloom

 A little statuary

Some more "rope" work

More "view"

Another pond

Don't know the variety, but can you believe the size of these elephant ears?

Set up for the next puppet show.

Lots of stuff here in France geared toward the children.  They do a great job here.

Just more of more.

A jogging track for those with more energy than I.

A memorial to the gentleman most responsible for the park's last resurrection before the turn of the twentieth century.  A well deserved tribute in my opinion.







And a nice Sunday morning in the park for the fat kid.