The scenery along the gently winding canal was reminiscent of my childhood picture books -- rows of poplar trees, tiny stone villages, castles, grazing cows, jumping fish, rolling hills and patchwork-quilted fields.
As an outsider, I sat at a desk in the corner and stared out the window at a row of poplars lining the quadrangle.
Along a creek, a row of poplars basked in the golden sun, and a group of young monks in crimson robes were holding a class.
But just before sunset, five bright green missiles streaked through the air toward a row of poplars at the park's edge.
Eighty-five new ones are to be planted, many in double rows of tulip poplars that will line the ramps into the center.
The streams are flanked by neat rows of beeches and poplars, their branches dotted with crows.
Rows of soldier-straight poplars lined the narrow Canal de l'Ourcq, their leaves rustling in a breeze that tempered the warm August air.
Shaded by rows of oak and poplar trees, they form not only the place of peaceful interment for hundreds, but one of contemplation and reflection for anyone seeking solace and solitude.
Nearly 80 years ago, Robert Byron, the writer, described the avenue with its rows of tall, white-stemmed poplars as one of the most beautiful in the world.
