Four grown kids, five delightful grandchildren, constant, long-time partner. A retired academic, I've recently moved with my husband from a waterfront home on a very small (Canadian) West Coast island to a condo in the city (Vancouver). Keen to discover what new priorities emerge, what interests persist in this urban life after 60!
As we settle into our rental house in Bordeaux, I'd love to share these photos from Sunday's visit to Keukenhof tulip gardens. Visiting this site might have been a cliché, but it was a cliché to delight. Once we moved past the entry and its surrounding paths, densest with people (800,000 visitors during the 6-week blooming period -- Paul was quite sure they were all there on Sunday!), the blooms, sunshine, and fragrance guaranteed endorphins. . .
So many inspiring combinations -- and so intriguing to see the different moods evoked by changing one colour element in a mix. I loved these orange fritillaria with these purple, almost-black tulips . . .
Both colour and height working here to create fascinating rhythms. . .
Sculptures invited closer inspection in numerous corners -- played up here by the dappled shade that we found one of the most charming aspects overall -- as Paul said, the trees were well placed to provide intimacy and, above all, tranquility. The space between them guarded against too much heaviness so that any dark shadows quickly transitioned to dappled shade, then into sunlight.
Everywhere one looked, eyes were cleverly drawn, vistas neatly framed. . .
The gardens made compelling arguments about scale . . .
and while colour combinations were inspiring, there was also a strong case presented for montones . . .
I had to replace my camera battery during the visit, as you might imagine, and I have at least another post worth of tulip photos, including some from our bike tour through the surrounding tulip fields.
For now, though, I've just made a cup of tea in our sweet little house in Bordeaux -- so lovely to have that privilege again after 5 days in a hotel. We spent the morning trolling an antiquités fair nearby and then picked up a small bouquet of sweet peas (pois senteurs), another of peonies (pivoines), and they're on tables here helping us claim this spot as chez nous. Where are you feeling at home at the moment -- and what's helping with that? What little delights, clichés even, make your world alright?