Ambling on river-wise from the greenhouse, there's the Rose Garden. Complete with gazebo, and even a lady to strike a pensive pose.
Sample of the output--a lovely, perfect pink summer rose.
I thought the nicest angle of the gazebo was straight up.
I thought the nicest angle of the gazebo was straight up.
A tuft of wildflowers to balance out the domesticity of roses. Or something like that.
What I called a Personali-Tree.
Down the hill is the bowling alley building, apparently under reconstruction. In the background is the Hudson River.
Skulking back toward the house...you can just see the port-cochere through the trees.
These comprise most of the front lawn end of Lyndhurst photos I took. Not far from this spot but a bit over towards the grove, I ran into an unexpected guest. Or actually, I presume, a resident...I was the unexpected guest. Mr. Beaver skittered through the brush and pretended I couldn't see him in a little grove. He made it part-way into a den hole and watched me as I watched him, both of us trying to decide what to do next. He wasn't in a good spot for a photo, and I don't think he wanted to come out and pose. So I bid him good afternoon and went on my way. I was marveling simply because I'd never seen a beaver out in the world before. I guess they have to live somewhere. Why not a cushy estate?
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