View Larger And on the seventh day God said, “Let there be sunshine in Paris” and it was done. And God plopped his laurels upon the sweet-smelling green of the manicured Tuileries gardens, absentmindedly twiddled the straw in his Perrier, and promptly vowed to smite the city with rain the very next week in roguish contrast.
While some smiles are forced, these gleaming pearly whites bespeak only sincere contentment. Wedged into a photogenic crevice of a tree-cum-tourist-attraction at the Jardin des Plantes, I lapped up the sunshine and let the intoxicating botanical fumes engulf my very being. Paris in spring is not overrated, my friends, nay indeed!
While the Petit Palais merits a wander for its quasi-interesting, if not eclectic, selection of art, sculpture, and other cultural miscellany, I practically gamboled in photographic glee amongst the central garden foliage. Voilà, Paris in springtime at its tip top!
