S. Worthen | Weblog

I had a leisurely trip to Paris. double0hilly and I ate and drank and wandered. We walked down into the starkness of the Deportation Memorial, its inner corridor of lights a tasteful and moving tribute to the dead. We walked the Seine and its islands, marking flood levels and bridge date. Signs caught my eye: Heloise and Abelard were here; Jacques Callot's street; Polish bookstores; a line of green tea bath products which, once noticed, became ubiquitous.

We walked the length and breadth of the Jardins de Luxembourg. After the Medici Fountain, statues of famous French female rulers, a fountain full of sailboats, grass to sit on, grass not to sit on, a playground, tennis courts, and the Statue of Liberty, we found the pear collection. I can't even remember who recommended the pear collection to me. It's a systematics collection, designed to help catalog the species of pears. It's spectacular and large. The pears are cosseted, wrapped in bags for protection, shielded by chain link fence and netting. They have to have their own dedicated gardener(s). The collection has been there around two hundred years now. Our visit to trees was my one history of science expedition for the trip.

Near the pears was a beekeeping lesson in full swing, with copious signs warning us to keep our distance. Perhaps a dozen white-suited, veiled, hatted people with cameras clustered around a number of bee hives. Smoke poured up into the air and hordes of bees circled the students. Signs, unviewable at the warned-away distance, presumably advertised the garden's bee collection.

The sun was warm and soothing, the breeze light, the sky blue with fluffs of white.