Trianon Palace Versailles

Petite Trianon, below.I remember well, age 16, walking into the lobby, below, of the Trianon Palace hotel.
Our room had 2 walls of French doors opening onto gardens, below.
In that room I lost my
retainer. Carried away on the breakfast tray by room service.

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There was a wedding the first nite. I felt like 'Sabrina' watching the party from a tree. A band & singer sounding like Sinatra.

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Earlier in the day touring Versailles. The Hall of Mirrors belonged to my mother & me, no one else there. Workman recreating carved mouldings and gilding them in some of the rooms. I was able to talk with them, touch what they were doing.

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Then the gardens.

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There is only 1 picture of me in my home on display. It's here, in my office, I am standing in the garden at Versailles.

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Garden & Be Well, XO Tara

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Top pic from Habitually Chic. Alas, I never saw the Petite Trianon. Other pics from Trianon Palace Versailles.

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In the garden at Versailles my mother found a place to sit. I spent hours alone, wandering the gardens. A harbinger of my favorite way to tour a garden. That day I knew something was 'wrong' with my mother. The gardens electrified me. Mother sat, bored (or happy to be rid of me while I wandered). There was no discussion of the gardens between us. I had no vocabulary to speak of gardens. Nor did I perceive it was acceptable to like the garden so much. I was silenced. That didn't last.