She couldn’t say exactly when she had fallen asleep or when had she began to dream… but she had no doubt this had to be a dream… it just had to be! A dream so real though, that she saw herself standing there, right in the center of this garden in her dreams, in fully awakened senses…
Oh she remembers having being there before… in this overgrown, disheveled, yet still lovely garden. She remembers living intensely and happily there once… but when, or how log ago was this? She couldn’t remember…
This was certainly a magical place… and yet, somehow, it was the wrong magic. What she saw made her shiver… she didn’t like it at all… what she saw was an unloved garden… for how could one love something and forget to confer it the proper love? The efficient, tender loving care a loved garden requires?
The girl saw that weeds had taken over the lovely pebble paths, that the morning glory grew rampant, taking over places where they should have not been, and she saw that the English ivy that had been once removed from its roots had appeared again and it was now digging its tendrils into the walls of the house, tearing it apart… like water expanding in a crack…
The girl saw that weeds had taken over the lovely pebble paths, that the morning glory grew rampant, taking over places where they should have not been, and she saw that the English ivy that had been once removed from its roots had appeared again and it was now digging its tendrils into the walls of the house, tearing it apart… like water expanding in a crack…
The girl saw too that grape vines and the Virginia Creeper had taken over an
entire area, hanging thick over shrubbery and trees like swinging curtains… a
storm must had passed through the garden at some point, for the girl saw that
her favorite tree had been cracked in half; its lovely white trunk exposed and
bared and now the once perfect shaggy leafy mane stood hanging over shrubbery
and adjacent trees like a sad broken brown crown.
In the flower beds over the right, the mint had grown rampant and it had taken over the place almost in its entirety…. but the saddest thing of all were the roses… oh the lovely lovely roses.
The Orchid Masterpiece Climbing Rose the girl had planted that spring just before she left her gardens had not survived… its remains quietly rested on a bed of weeds…
Half of the long canes of the Golden Shower climbing rose should had been pruned right to the ground, because half of the rose hadn't survived the winter and it wasn’t doing good, but nobody seemed to notice these things, or care about it… oh but the girl could. She could see and hear beyond what the average human could see and hear… and thus she heard the garden’s song...
The girl was sure it was a sad song… a song that spoke of abandonment and neglect… and deep deep down from the bottom of the garden arose another song.... she heard it too, and understood. It was the song of regret sung by her own little heart…
Quickly, the girl pushed apart the tall garden phlox growing around the rose bushes and foxgloves, and there, among the weeds growing freely on the flowerbed’s floor there she saw something else… the vision of another garden… a garden far far away sitting right on the way of the southern winds... the girl smiled happily. Her little heart now softened and purified. She then said her goodbyes to this garden, and left.
PS: Our voyages have taken us to the west coast these days, and right now we are in San Diego where my husband is attending some meetings while I enjoy the sceneries and little shops in the area… and think of you too, and how close I may be from some of you!
