Written in October 2018
The botanic garden lies in the Parc de la Tête d’Or in the center of Lyon. The park covers 117 hectares, and the botanic garden only makes up a small portion of that – but the variety of trees, shrubs and water bodies in the rest of the park makes it feel like an extension of the garden. More a display of the richness of plant life on Earth than an ordinary city park.
The main greenhouse very much reminds me of the one in Paris – a gorgeously antique steel structure from the outside, but not systematic enough on the inside for my botany-buff-taste.
The smaller ones, spread out across the garden, were nice, though. I was particularly impressed by the generous collection of carnivorous plants. I always think they look alien, as if from a different planet – or at least from a distant and more violent time.
I buy a cup of coffee at the café by the lake. High-rises can be glimpsed behind the tree-crowns. It’s like the knowledge of the bustle that is most likely going on beyond those high, yellow-edged trees across the lake only makes the stillness in here more relaxing. A moment out of time.
But what really took my breath away: The most impressive display of dahlias that I have ever seen. The color of those flowers! I have had a thing for dahlias this summer, they had beds of these voluptuous flowers of Mexican origin in both the Bergius garden in Stockholm and in Visby – but nothing beats this extravagance.
My grandmother loved her dahlias. Her garden was gorgeous, both for the vegetables, berries and flowers, tended to with so much skill, joy and love up until her last summer in life. And I think the dahlias were her favorites in the flower beds – digging up the roots every autumn, keeping them snug and above freezing in pots filling the entire glass verandah over winter and then planting them again in spring. Whenever mom and I were headed to visit grandpa’s grave, she would give us a generous bouquet of white and deep purple dahlias to decorate it with. In her last ten years, she had trouble walking long distances and couldn’t get to the grave very often, but I think she felt like she was there, at the grave, in spirit through the dahlias that she had so lovingly tended to. To make a long story short, I have recently felt a new fascination of dahlias, and I think there might be a very sentimental reason for it.
The only unpleasant part of the park was the zoo. It has been ages since I have been to one, but now, seeing the giraffes walk in circles out of boredom made me feel nauseous. And the capuchin and spider monkeys in their cages just sitting there, staring. I am sure they are as well cared for as animals in captivity can be. I just do not think that wild animals should be kept in tight spaces like this.
But if I forget about the zoo, and only focus on the park and the garden, it is a marvelous place. Lyon really has a botanical garden to be proud of.
Katja Malmborg 