Giverny, A Garden Like No Other

The front of our hotel.

The price of fuel, diesel is less expensive than gasoline.

Toilet in the auto plaza. Linda says it tones the thighs.

The cockpit of our tour bus.

Japanese garden at Monet’s Gardens

Water lily’s and reflections

(Fantastic view, lousy photographer)

Monet painted boats

Then there are the gardens, of which our poor attempts at photography don’t even begin to convey the unbelievable beauty that exploded all around us.

This not a well manicured, neat and orderly, look down and see the blooms kind of garden. Just like his paintings, this is a wild profusion that dazzles the eye and boggles the mind. This must have been what gardens were like before the hybridizers and geneticists took over and gave every plant the same boring look. Something tells me Monet would have painted something other than flowers if all he had to work with was the, looks great, doesn’t grow worth a darned, patented plant garbage of today. You didn’t think I could do an entire post of only one sentence comments, did you?

The photo Linda was taking.

Does dinner plate sized describe it?

A surprise everywhere you looked.

Even the few patches of grass have blooms erupting from them. Linda could not get over the fact that we saw zinnia's towering nearly seven feet in the air. This a place where one runs out of “WOWS” so fast that the hush in the gardens is from the fact that everyone here has been rendered speechless by what they are experiencing.

Dahlias? Yes there are dahlias.

Did I mention they have dahlias?

Finis (But we shall return again some day)

Monet’s grave where he is buried along with other members of his family.

Our route to Paris took us along the Seine. Linda took this photo of the Eiffel Tower.

Another Linda photo of the Eiffel Tower with a tree, and a boat in front.

Say what you want, but Linda is certainly consistent in how she takes photos of the Eiffel tower.

Dusk at the Eiffel Tower. Photo by Bob.

A final champagne toast. A fond farewell to new friends. a fitting end to our best Rick Steve’s tour ever, and all because our guide, Julie, the woman with the perpetual smile.