Let the Magic Begin

There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.  

Elizabeth Lawrence

Childhood is such a magical time. It's a shame that we lose that magic when we grow up, but the world demands it.  Unlike our ancestors, we live in a world where one must work to survive and sometimes, as hard as we try to fit nature into our busy lives, something always seems to come up.   Saturdays have been devoted to cooking and cleaning, and on Sunday after getting my clothes ready for the week, I am just too tired to do much more than plan my  upcoming week. 

So, I find myself living vicariously through each of you.  I so enjoy seeing the pictures on your blogs of your flowers and gardens.  It reminds me of a time that once was,  that time about 17 years ago that I was blessed to have one of those gardens where a dropped watermelon pit would take hold and grow, a place where I spent so many magical evenings and weekends, a place where the fairies loved to visit, but then the house was sold, and we were forced to move.

The next house we lived in had an amazingly large back yard, but the earth there did not hold the same magic.  And then, the yard wasn't solely mine as I found out the hard way.  When we first moved there it looked like no one had used the yard in years --weeds were waist high throughout-- and my landlady assured me that I could do as I wished, so I spend each weekend out there weeding, hoeing, and planting.  Turned out to be a huge disappointment though.  Not only did the vegetables fail to thrive despite all my efforts,  but the people upstairs decided they were going to use the yard for weekend cookouts and trampled over my plants, but the old man actually pulled my cucumbers, the only plant really taking off,  down from the fence, destroying them. 

Weeds can take many forms.  There were the weeds of that backyard, but also the people upstairs were weeds. They sucked the life out of me and refused to let me live.  Came to the point when I would tiptoe about the house so they wouldn't know I was home.   Needless to say, the following year and all the years following that, I chose not to have anything to do with the yard...even when it eventually became overrun with weeds again.

So now, as my career winds down, and my days are soon to be free, I'll finally be able to slow down and enjoy nature. It may not be the magical garden that I hold in my memories, but I do have that gorgeous park nearby, and I do plan to take advantage of it.  Who knows?  Perhaps if I find a quiet bench, away from it all, the fairies may once again grace me with their presence.  Let the magic begin.

How often do you take the time to enjoy nature?