Sunday, June 12, 2016

The house in the roses

Once upon a time... there was a garden...

There were numbers of standard roses which had so spread their branches that they were like little trees. There were other trees in the garden, and one of the things which made the place look strangest and loveliest was that climbing roses had run all over them and swung down long tendrils which made light swaying curtains, and here and there they had caught at each other or at a far-reaching branch and had crept from one tree to another and made lovely bridges of themselves.

There were neither leaves nor roses on them now and Mary did not know whether they were dead or alive, but their thin gray or brown branches and sprays looked like a sort of hazy mantle spreading over everything, walls, and trees, and even brown grass, where they had fallen from their fastenings and run along the ground. It was this hazy tangle from tree to tree which made it all look so mysterious.

Mary had thought it must be different from other gardens which had not been left all by themselves so long; and indeed it was different from any other place she had ever seen in her life. "How still it is!" she whispered. "How still!" Then she waited a moment and listened at the stillness.

The robin, who had flown to his treetop, was still as all the rest. He did not even flutter his wings; he sat without stirring, and looked at Mary. "No wonder it is still," she whispered again. "I am the first person who has spoken in here for ten years."

She moved away from the door, stepping as softly as if she were afraid of awakening some one. She was glad that there was grass under her feet and that her steps made no sounds. She walked under one of the fairy-like gray arches between the trees and looked up at the sprays and tendrils which formed them. "I wonder if they are all quite dead," she said. "Is it all a quite dead garden? I wish it wasn't."


  1. Buenos Días Cielito , qué triste mirar ese jardín de lo q fue a lo que es no puedo entender cómo hay personas q no aman las plantar y las flores ellos son seres bibientes también como dejar q mueran así en tu propia casa donde tú bines eso es lo que pasa cuando uno tiene una propiedad q binó en ella y la amas así me pasó ami cuando nos mudamos a CA 2010 me destrulleron mi casa y mi matas mi esposo me dijo si me releo alisan fuera de Miami otrabes vendo mi casa porque es muy triste ver cómo hay persona q no cuidan esa es una de la razones por lo q biberón rentados imagino cuánto te afecto ver esto yo recuerdo tu bello jardín
    Tranguila tienes ahora una bella casita y un bello jardín creado por tu manos maravillosa y bendecido por nuestro Dio
    Te deceso un bonito días lleno de bendiciones

  2. Oh, my darling Cielo, this sounds like an excerpt drawn from the amazing Burnett's 'The Secret Garden' ... am I mistaken ? I so love this masterpiece and I have even dedicated a post to it some times ago, thank you for sharing this 'little tale' with us !

    Hope your week is off to a good start I'm wishing you most wonderful days to come
    with extreme gratitude

    Xx Dany

  3. Hi Dani... You are right, this is an excerpt taken from "The Secret Garden", brought up here because it mirrored my soul and how I felt the minute I entered my once upon a time magical garden at the house in the roses. We are at the airport now on our way back to our little white cottage and my beautiful southern garden, but a piece of my heart is buried in that overgrown and very unloved garden that was once so very loved.

    My old readers who have followed me to the south surely understand my sentiments.
    Than you for your words


  4. Dearest Cielo, my hair stood on end when I read your opening verse. The Secret Garden is one of my favourite books. I understand completely, your connection to it. Love, Mimi xxx

  5. cannot watch your video... Hope all is well.

  6. Blogger Lady of the Woods said...

    I don't understand how anyone can let beauty wither to the point of having to question if its alive or dead.....can we call them "people"?


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