The thing I loved about Giverny's pond is how even with a hundred tourists and the distant sound of the road, you feel snuggled up in a little green cocoon. Even the benches and bridges are green. There's no space on the banks for a person to peek out, so all you see is green and some dull brown. Then there's a pop of pink, or purple, or white, or red, or yellow flowers. And between it all, the clear blue sky and white clouds reflected off the water and up above. At least visually, civilization is gone. It's almost foreboding; it doesn't seem made for leisurely laying on the grass by the pond. Rather it's for looking out on from some hidden corner, as if to say, this place doesn't belong to you; this is mother nature's home, and you're a guest here.

I’m quite happy to hear that, as my wife and I will be visiting Monet’s garden later this month, along with our semi-reluctant son. (He’s 10. )