The flowers of Rennes, the forming of a charater. Traveling in France and grains of thought. Part III.

As I am not at home, I have no access to some wonderful pictures. So, I will be switching my part III France journey with my part IV adventure. Today I am going to share some flowers with you. In the heart of Rennes, a larger but not huge French city, there is a park called ''Parc du Thabor''. It is a big green spot in a bustling city and it features not only many romantic picnic spots and some mysterious buildings but also some outdoor art, sculptures, bird parlor, and a botanical garden amongst other things.

I visited this place after Kubby had been dropped off at the airport and I had begun to come closer to my life-changing decision to change everything about my life. Once again. I was somber, sad and melancholy when entering the park but I have no doubt that I had made the right decision by choosing to leave everything I had built in the last two years behind me. Now I just was dealing with the fact. I had pain and hurt in me. I have fears in me. But this is not about that. I know, I know. I will be leaving you with a cliffhanger... But everything in due time. Isn't it the best way? To develop a story slowly? To keep the suspense and leave the public wondering? At least for a little while...

A quick goodbye picture! So many smiles for such a nice holiday.

For those of you who have heard me speak on the Whaleshares discord channel before we took a break at the curation show, you might have been present on an occasion when I talked about not being big on flowers in my future garden. In my own dream green space, that I want to keep when I finally do settle down, there is no place for the blooming beauties. Do not get me wrong, I love receiving a nice bouquet of flowers or looking at them in somebody else's garden but in my place, I only envision fruit trees and vegetables growing. Maybe a couple of flowers, but not too much. Certainly not pots on pots of flowers.

My wish is to go into a garden and see apple, cherry, pear trees. Raspberries, blueberries, vegetables... And then I would like to look at wild fields and see some wildflowers, my favorite. Thay would be striving on their own, without my care, without a dependence on a human hand. I like a flower that can survive on its own. For me, beauty has no meaning if it does not have substance. And food is a passion so it will always win over flowers in my garden, even when I fall in love with some alluring roses.

I guess this preference comes from my family. Neither my grandpa or mom had many blooms in their gardens. I grew up in a wonderful house encompassed by a huge territory of green grass and endless amount of fruits. My grandpa had only one type of flower growing right in front of his country house. My grandma only grew tulips and daffodils in spring. The rest of the blooms we picked from fields and forests and it was magical. For me, I want tulips and daffodils in my garden. One Terracotta Rose that I fell in love with in the Parc of Thabor and that is it.

The Terracotta in real life features a little darker color. Saturated, dark red, borderline chocolate brown.

A detour through childhood

I did not spend a lot of time in this wonderful place but I saw a lot. There were quite many flowers and greens but mostly roses dominated the scenery. Perhaps the only other flower that was showcased as much was my dreaded dhalia. I have no idea why I dislike it. Maybe it is just the look of it, so shiny, plasticky. Fake. No? Maybe a little? Maybe it is something deeper though?

Every time I see a dahlia, I remember my elementary school teacher. She was quite an amazing woman that collected breeds of the flower and had more than 100 different(I think but do not recall) types of it in her possession. However, there are some of my memories here. Of my young character being formed. And, logically, the worst of these recollections are the ones that stuck with me. Like the time I started selling pencils, trinkets and Kinder Surprise egg toys to my classmates for a couple of cents. When my dear teacher found out, she told me it was not allowed, that it was bad. There was no follow-up explanation or elaboration. And in this little seed that I was back then, there was doubt sewn, that developed all throughout my childhood and teenhood. That seed was ''Bussiness is bad, it is illegal''. I only recently came to the acknowledgment of this fear in me, and when looking where it came from, I was brought back to that memory. It was what started an innocent fear in me that grew into something big and gory. That I should not try starting something new, that I should not be the boss of anything.

I know this has nothing to do with my trip but that is what the botanical garden made me think off. How I, always in my teens, said that I never wanted to own a business. How I thought only crooked people could survive on top and how I saw the person on top as someone I could never be.

There is only one other brightly negative memory of my early day teacher. And I must say that it completely spoiled the woman for me. For the words, she used when my class had already moved on, to middle school and away from our elementary tutor. I had this shirt with, what I guess, a revealing V-neck. I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. My breasts had just started growing. I was not comfortable in this shirt as much as it was for showing off that I was now a ''woman''. Believe it or not, it is a thing amongst teenage girls. We become curious and proud when the changes start. I might blush now about my stupidity and vanity then but it was still a time of my young character being formed.

Anyway, that old teacher of mine approached me and took me to the side. She had this comment for me, about the shirt and she spoke in a hushed tone, leaving an impression on me that I should be ashamed. That I should not wear such revealing clothes, that it was provoking or could provoke the teenage boys in my class. Those were almost her exact words. I still remember that day vividly, like it happened yesterday. I had a huge respect towards this woman, up until that day. On that day me putting her on a teacher pedestal shattered and even though I still respected her I did not look up to her anymore. I knew what she said was wrong even if the idea behind it was well intended. I was uncomfortable in the shirt after all. But those words were just wrong and the acknowledgment of that grew every day with me. I still respect the woman but not nearly as much as I used to. Oh, and, yes, I never wore the shirt again.

There are many should have's, would have's in me. Like how my teacher could have told me that I had nothing to prove to anybody or that I should wear clothes that I feel good in. Do not get me wrong, it was my mom's job to tell me that and she did but if that teacher decided to talk to me she could have at least thought about her words. But that is life and that is our adulthood. Even we, especially we, as grownups, say things that may not be completely accurate. And I just would like to say that those individuals that children look up to, have a huge impact on them. What adults say to little souls is very important, even if for us, grown-ups it seems like nothing.

Back to the park

As I walked into the Parc du Thabor it did not give up much at first. Next to a spacious pedestrian walks and countless trees, there seemed to be nothing special about this place. But then I stumbled upon this wonderful birdhouse, a connecting element right in the heart of the park. From it, various paths took you to different places and the center building with pigeons commuting in and out of it. There were even some more exotic birds in their own separate cages. Not all of them could fly out and away. At least I don't think so as some of the tiny bird doors were boarded up shut. That is a sad little thing but the beauty there was still the same.

I sat on the bench here and had a talk with another. A talk of our limits being reached. There was a wider walker pathway here and it was made into an alley, with benches on both sides. I could not stay down for long, I got up and went to a small pond with some geese in it. I watched them and some sculptures and it felt nice even if serene.

This is how I came to go to the Botanical garden. The day was a little cloudy and even though I wanted to go home, I was convinced otherwise. Here a path took me to a building that I did not get quite close to. It was the typical French architecture wonder that had that romantic allure. In front, beautifully shaped and created waves of flowers and sculptures of dancers frozen in motion. A little bit further, a garden behind a gate. Almost hidden, and almost missed.

I am sure there are many things that I did miss about the park as it spreads to over 10 acres of land but I am also fully convinced that the botanical and rose garden was the best part of it. Hundreds and hundreds of roses. Real, actual smells from the blooms. All the colors of the spectrum. And a wonderfully hidden fountain in the middle. Huge goldfish swam in it! I walked around here and I again sat down on the bench. I did not change my mind about having a flower garden but I sure appreciated the work that the gardeners are putting into this place.

There were two men busy at work in this English and French style garden and I am sure there were more people working that I did not notice. After all, this place most definitely takes and employs a lot of hands. Where I come from, parks are different. More grass, fewer flowers. It is an art how the French keep their greenery and I admire it. Makes me want to go and live in this magical country, if just for a little while!

I would suggest going to Rennes for a short day. The city is nice but it is not over the top. I would add that it is perfect for having a lax time as there are no crazy sightseeing places. There are also much fewer tourists here than in Vannes, the town I wrote about before.

Merlin's magical forest. Here is a Part I of my travels in France
City of Vannes. Here is a part II of my travels in France

Little other things here and there

On this trip to Rennes, I got to see a little more of that French architecture that I love. I have always admired their balcony railings and gates. I know, and odd thing to look up to when there are so many other quirks but the intricate detailing of these is just something that I have seen nowhere else. At least not in such quantities.

I was also in Rennes the day before my names day and so, after this visit, Jonas and I went to a small, lovely restaurant in Josselin. Another wonderful town I will talk about in the next France post. I finally got to enjoy snails here. A delicacy that I had not tried since childhood. Let me tell you, they taste divine! I know it may not seem so but take it from a person that tries whatever she can and eats as much as possible, snails should be tasted. At least once!

We also met the most cheerful pair of pals in Josselin. A black puppy and kitten that were both hanging outside their house, while the door was open. The puppy was the most cheerful soul and I got to pet it while it excitedly ran around me. The kitten just sat in the door and observed its surroundings. Because of that the picture of the little fur-ball came out better than of the big one. I still love dogs the most, though!

An amazing looking public bathing house!

Leftover pictures

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And finally, me realizing that I can't have snails a day earlier and us changing plans to get them the day after. Look at that sad and hopeful face! But seriously, that pizza was to die for as well so I was no loser either of these two days!

Have the best day. Today, tomorrow, and forever!
Linda