Snow, rain, sleet...bah. I want to have spring. I want the smell of freshly turned earth. I want the beauty of 5 pm light on the flowers and the green grass. Je veux le printemps. 
I want to travel by train, from Gare Saint-Lazare in Paris to the town of Vernon, and then on to Giverny. I want to walk the paths at Claude Monet's home, and marvel at the profusion of flowers there. I want to wander the streets of this town, peering into gardens, and meadows. I want to sit in a field of coquelicots, and admire the blue of the sky.
My first trip to Giverny was a solo trip. Actually the first time I went to Paris solo. I mapped out the train schedules, and bought a ticket. I remember the young woman in the seat next to me asking where I was headed. Giverny. I also remember her being kind enough to see that I got off at the right stop, and wishing me a bonne journee. People ask me all the time, if the French are rude. I often think of that moment when that young lady touched my sleeve and spoke to me in French that it was my stop, and when I looked confused, she told me in what English she could manage. No, I have been blessed by the graciousness of the French people that I have encountered.
Off the train at Vernon, outside the station to the bus that is around the corner. 7,00 or so euros for a round trip. Window seat. A lone middle aged woman making the first independent trip of her life. Exit the bus, follow the path and into the town. Down a narrow street, following the signs to Monet's home. Paid my admission, through the gift shop, and into the gardens. And, oh what gardens! Such an explosion of color, texture, and smell. Irises, roses, tulips, and pansies. Grouped by color. Pinks, purples, magenta. Truly a color wheel of flowers. A backdrop of a crushed pink brick house with green shutters. I must have spent 3 hours just wandering the gardens. Follow the path under the roadway to the pond on the other side. Yes, there it is. The Japanese garden with the bridge over a pond with those water lilies. A wandering path, and every turn presented me a picture perfect setting.
Back under the road, and queue the line to tour the house. Yellows, and blues. Japanese wood block prints. Utterly amazing. Claude Monet died in 1926, and left the house to his son, who left it to the Academie des Beaux-Arts. It had fallen into disrepair and required 10 years to get the gardens and house back to what it looked like at the time of Claude Monet. The house was painstakingly returned to its former self. The 231 Japanese woodblock prints are a study by themselves. Hokusai, Hiroshige and others are offered up. It was interesting to me to see what a impressionist painter chose to decorate his own home, and even though many 18th century painters were influenced by Japanese art, it was still a bit of a shock to see so many.
Back through the gift shop, and yes I did buy some very nice note cards adorned with Monet's work. Back into the street, with time to wander. I had lunch in the garden of the Musee d'art Americain. Yes, it was still called that back then. It was a defining moment for me, as it was here that I had my very first Kronenbourg 1664 biere, and I realized that yes, you can have lunch by yourself in a beautiful town, in this amazing setting and enjoy it. 
After lunch I again wandered through the small town, down the Rue Claude Monet towards the Eglise Sainte-Radegonde de Giverny, a quaint country church. Monet's family grave is here, and others. The crew of a RAF plane that was shot down in World War II are interred here. There is a monument to the crew of 7 there as well. French graves are a work of art in themselves. Graves are adorned with pictures of loved ones, mementos from their lives, and flowers are planted and maintained by family members and loved ones. 
Back on the bus, back to the station and on the train returning to Paris. Late afternoon sun beating in the window, and a destination ahead. Memories made in a beautiful town just west of Paris. La vie est bonne, et je suis beni!