SpiceLines

It all started at Rosa Luna, an adorable fleuriste in the 7eme where long-stemmed, volleyball-sized hydrangeas tower like giants in tall glass vases. Suddenly I’m scattering euros like pennies, filling my arms with a luxuriant bouquet for our room.

Clearly hydrangeas are having a moment. At Square Roger Stephane, a secret pocket park off the rue de Sevres, faded pink blooms lure me up a rocky path to a trickling waterfall and a garden that’s gone slightly wild.

Sound the trumpets! At the Marche Raspail, all eyes are on the Technicolor bouquets that almost (but not quite) overshadow the Brittany oysters and lime-green Romescu cauliflowers. (More about the market coming soon…)

Un Arbre’s enchanted forest dazzles the eye after supper at the cosy Bistro & Terroir on rue Cherche Midi (any joint that serves a whole terrine of dark chocolate mousse for dessert—you scoop out as much as you want—gets a rave from moi!). Murky hydrangeas, wispy grasses and dangling Chinese “paper” lanterns create an inviting autumn bower. The goose looks right at home.

Hmmm. Here we are at the Jardin du Luxembourg and its touch-me-not grass. (Keep off it or the flics will remove you.) But on an Indian summer afternoon the usually uptight flower beds are filled with a surprising jungle of marigolds, milkweed and wine-red foliage. Across the park apiculturists are selling honey made by bees from the Luxembourg’s very own hives. Could there be life in this very proper jardin?

In the 17th century Madame de Sevigne, known for her voluminous letters, resided in the Hotel Carnavalet for nearly two decades. Now it’s a museum of Paris history, but as summer moves into fall, the corners of this elaborately sculpted boxwood garden are bursting with red-leaf bananas and crimson dahlias. The color echoes—and contrast of lush tropicals with the jardin’s formal lines—are super-chic and, may I say, so very French.

Whenever I'm in Paris I drift by Odorantes to see what’s in the window. Usually not flowers, even though this fleuriste is famed for its overblown antique roses. One winter tableau was composed of two pale stuffed loons and a few lines of poetry. Not a blossom in sight.

Right now I’m mesmerized by these cunning woodland denizens—probably from Deyrolle, Paris' taxidermist of choice—gamboling amongst wild mushrooms and other fall fungi. Flowers? Stashed in the back.

Yes, Paris is full of surprises. Are you in a park with high walls and not much foliage? Look more closely and you might find a crypto-forest “sketched” on the wall, like the one at the mysterious Square des Missions Etrangeres off the rue du Bac.

Oh dear. I’m beginning to see flowers where none exist. I’m quite sure Philippe Conticini of La Patisserie des Reves wasn’t thinking of daisies when he created his award-winning Paris-Brest, but doesn’t his “bicycle wheel” of little choux puffs filled with luscious hazelnut crème and a hidden dollop of chocolate-praline look—and taste—like a fantastic edible flower?

Eat a whole Paris-Brest by yourself, and who knows? You might start hallucinating.

Here I am walking along the rue Caron late one afternoon when something makes me look up. Holy smoke! There’s a flock of anges rebelles--aka red devils--tumbling wildly through the air. Not to worry: It’s all part of Paris’s Nuit Blanche, a dusk to dawn art festival that’s taking place…tonight! There’ll be avant garde concerts, movies projected on courtyard walls and quirky installations like this one. It’s all free, even the metro.

That's Paris for you: Toujours une surprise!