My fondest travel memory is of the day my husband and I visited Claude Monet’s house in Giverny. We were spending a week in Paris and took a day trip to the artist’s home. Strolling through his beautifully cultivated gardens was like a dream. We were surrounded by vibrant colors, exotic blossoms and enchanting birdsong. In the water garden, we paused to marvel at the famous Japanese bridge that we had seen depicted in one of Monet’s paintings the day before at the Musee d’Orsay. The house was just as inspiring as the gardens. My favorite room was the blue-tiled kitchen with its copper pots and old-fashioned iron stove. Upstairs in the bedroom, I was able to gaze out the window down onto the garden and imagined the artist himself standing there each morning drinking in the view before beginning his day. In the photo essay below, my character, Cerise, makes a fresh start, beginning a new chapter of her life on her first day on the job at Fondation Claude Monet.

After working in a Paris advertising office for twelve years, Cerise Dior was ready to return home to Giverny. Commuting on the crowded Métro had become tiresome and navigating office politics a headache. During her Christmas holidays, while sipping coffee and flipping through the local newspaper in her older sister Esmé’s sunny, yellow kitchen she had spotted a job notice for Assistant Director of Marketing at the Fondation Claude Monet. Expecting nothing to come of her inquiry, she applied for the position and now to her surprised delight, she was here in the village where she grew up ready to begin a new chapter of her career.

Carefully pulling into the employee parking lot, she parked her sporty blue Peugeot. Beside her on the passenger seat was a crisp white bakery bag holding flaky almond croissants and pain au chocolat. Enough to share with everyone in the office. Esmé had baked the pastries first thing in the morning. Their buttery aroma filled the little car.

The clock on her dashboard reported that it was only 7:20. Cerise sighed. She couldn’t show up 40 minutes before they were expecting her, but she didn’t want to sit in the car. Maybe she could do a bit of exploring.

After a moment, she climbed out of the car, remembering to grab the bakery bag and retrieved her shoulder bag from the back seat. She paused, gazed around the deserted parking lot and then set off for Monet’s gardens. She strolled past the shuttered gift shop and café, which inevitably would be bustling with tourists and local visitors in just a few hours. Crossing the road, she walked briskly along the sidewalk that ran behind the artist’s home. The April sunshine winked against the upstairs windows and warmed the rose-colored facade.

As she turned the corner, she held her breath in anticipation of her first glimpse of Monet’s spectacular garden. Stepping out of the shadow of the house into the front courtyard, Cerise clasped her hands to her chest, still clutching the white bakery bag and let out a delighted sigh. A kaleidoscope of colors and scents invited her forward. Rows of well-tended flowerbeds lined the wide gravel walkways

Slowly, she circled a garden of tulips. The pink and white blooms danced in the gentle spring breeze on gracefully tall stems. On the opposite side of the garden, cherry blossoms shaded plantings of forget-me-nots, lilies of the valley and jonquils.

“C’est splendide!” she murmured dreamily. Her mind raced with ideas for how she could promote this lovely place.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle!”

A cheery voice pulled her back into the present moment. Cerise smiled hesitantly at the rosy cheeked woman who seemed to be about her own age hurrying toward her from one of the walkways.

“Hello,” Cerise said. “I was a little early for my first day of work and decided to do some exploring,” she explained in a sheepish tone.

The woman waved her hand dismissively and shrugged. “Don’t worry. I often start my day with a walk in M. Monet’s garden. My name is Suzette. I’m in charge of social media for the Fondation. Are you Cerise Dior?”

“I am,” Cerise confirmed. “I suppose we will be working together.”

“Yes, yes. Welcome!” Suzette looked at the silver watch that adorned her narrow wrist. “We still have a few minutes. Let me show you the garden.”

Together, they strolled up and down the garden paths while Suzette pointed out some of the more unusual blooms. Finally, they headed back across the street to the offices.

“Whatever you have in that little white bag smells heavenly,” Suzette remarked as they walked past the restaurant.

“I brought some croissants from my family’s bakery. Enough for everyone,” Cerise said.

“Ooh! Tres bien,” Suzette crowed. “I think we will be great office mates. Tomorrow morning, I will show you the water gardens.”

As they approached the wooden door leading into the administrative offices, Cerise quickened her pace and smiled up at the sunny, blue sky. Her new chapter outside the city was off to a promising start.