A Jungle in the Heart of Paris and a Thousand & One Orchids
From the desk of the artist Alana Clohessy, in a small corner of Paris, on the Left Bank of the Seine.
Tuesday, 11th March 2025. 11°C and Cloudy.
Tea in my Cup: Twinings English Breakfast Tea with milk, no sugar.
Yesterday, I went to the Orchid Exhibit “Mille & une Orchidées 2025” (A Thousand and One Orchids) in the Grandes Serres (large greenhouses) of Jardin des Plantes (Garden of Plants). I have spoken about Jardin des Plantes previously when I went to visit the Christmas light display and about the time I spent there during lockdowns, you can read that letter here.
This is the 12th Edition of the Orchid display in the greenhouses. It was my first time visiting. You make your way up the steps towards the ornate, art deco glasshouse and are ushered in. The wet, tropical heat is the first thing to assail you. The next, your eyes are filled with green as you step inside the jungle of Jardin des Plantes.
The tropical greenhouse is spread over one hectare and houses several hundred species of trees from Africa, America, and South-East Asia. Water trickles through the leaves of the high trees reminiscent of rain. People flap their hands in front of their faces in a futile attempt to get some fresh air. Most people carry their coat. Hair curls onto damp temples as the vents continue to mist water through the roof, creating the muggy, close atmosphere of the rainforest.
As you walk along the paths, orchids are growing from the trunks of trees and hang from dedicated wooden poles from the ceiling, cascading colour over the steaming, fish filled pond. Full areas of orchids are set up in displays among the lush vegetation. People clamouring over one another for a photo op.
I struggled to capture the beauty and grandeur of the greenhouse through photos. The steam fogged up the lens but besides from that, some things need to be experienced in person, photos pale in comparison. This was one of those times.
In an attempt to help you visualise it, I have included an official Jardin des Plantes aerial drone video of the tropical greenhouse. The video is not shot during the orchid exhibit but you will get to experience the jungle.
It was the last day of the exhibit. I thought it would be empty. The place was packed. Everyone had the same idea as myself, go see it before it goes. I briefly escaped the heat through the adjoining gallery which houses the desert plants of America, Mexico, the Sahara and Australia. Thorned and hairy plants, evolved to resist the arid climates, grow among the sand and stony soil.
I went back inside the jungle and climbed up the rockface at the back of the greenhouse where I was treated to a panoramic view over the treetops and the orchids that were displayed there. On my way out, I walked through the dedicated greenhouse of New Caledonia, the archipelago of Oceania.
As I exited the greenhouses, I breathed in the fresh air and went to the orchid boutique set up especially for the exhibition. There were another thousand and one orchids inside the boutique. Growers from all over France came to sell their orchids there. Insect eating orchids, curled orchids, Phalaenopsis hybrid orchids, perfumed orchids. It was an orchid extravaganza. I had never experienced a perfumed orchid before, my limited orchid experience being supermarket orchids and the odd, unusual orchid in a flower shop.
I love plants and have many of them in my home. They grow out of all proportion and take over my workspace but I have never been able to keep an orchid alive. One of the few plants to elude my care. I thought I had managed it this year but in January, the leaves suddenly swooned to the floor and that was the end of that. I bought a perfumed orchid in the boutique. It is sitting beside me on my desk as I write, its scent wafting over me. Let’s see how long it lasts.
Thursday, 13th March 2025. 9°C and Sunny
Tea in my Cup: Lyons Gold Blend with milk, no sugar.
I am sitting writing to you from my childhood home. I travelled to Ireland this morning. My usual air travel dread of early morning flights and miserable cups of tea on the plane, screaming children and snuffly nosed seat companions was unfounded. I sailed through security in Charles de Gaulle, strolled around Duty Free and then boarded a plane that was not even 30% full. Rows and rows of empty seats.
As the airhostesses came around with the tea trolley accompanied with an air of happiness, lightness and ease, I asked why the plane was so quiet. They explained that it was the first Paris return flight of the season. There were no holidaying passengers that had travelled to Paris from Ireland, to bring home yet. They said the next flight back in a few days time would be packed, as they had brought a full plane to Paris that morning. The glamour of air travel may be long gone but for this morning, there was a brief glimpse of what it may have been. The airhostesses even got me real milk from the fridge for my tea. No UHT for me. But of course, travel as it stands today, is better than no travel at all.
The weather has been glorious all day. One never knows what the weather will be like but you don’t travel to Ireland for the sun, that’s not what keeps the grasses green and the vegetation lush but when it arrives, it is a welcome sight. I will walk along old roads and visit my old haunts. Drink tea with family and friends. Watch the birds bombard my parents bird feeder in the garden, scattering seed everywhere and lining up to use the birdbath. Celebrate my grandmother’s birthday on St Patrick’s Day.
When I return to Paris, it will be almost the end of March. Spring will have fully sprung and I will go on the hunt for the cherry blossoms. One of my favourite springtime activities.
My first lasting experience of cherry blossoms was as a school girl in Ireland. I attended a convent school and the nuns kept a full garden surrounded by cloisters. One day as I was walking to art class, the wind blew gently and a cloud of pink blossoms took to the air and sailed silently across the garden and path. They settled upon the ground and splashed the world pink for a few hours. The next day they were gone, crushed under foot and blown away. A brief window of beauty. The gardens and convent are gone now. The nuns in the graveyard exhumed. The tennis courts bulldozed over. A block of apartments and townhouses sit in their place. The school still exists but there are no more cherry blossoms left to flutter in the air.
The dream would be to have a cherry blossom tree lined driveway. For now, I will have to settle for my perfumed orchid and abundant houseplants but we do not always need to own what we find beautiful. Just knowing it exists in parks and gardens around the world is enough. The flowers bloom not for our pleasure but their own existence. On and on, year after year, imparting memories to new school children and parents alike. To those fed up of winter and people heart-sore with loss.
Jardins des Plantes has a huge collection of cherry blossom trees. If you are ever in Paris for Spring and lucky enough to be here for the cherry blossoms brief window, you should go visit. I will be there. Admiring it all and marvelling at the constancy of nature. When the petals fall I see people collecting large handfuls and placing them in plastic bags. I do not know what they use them for. Perfume, food, tea infusions? I can only speculate. Either way, I am not the only one fascinated by this flower. How could I be?
Au revoir - until we meet again,
Alana x
You can read more about Jardins des Plantes in this letter below.
Crickets in the Underground and Dinosaurs Among the Medicinal Herbs
Friday, 29th November 2024. 8°C and Overcast.