If you missed part 1, The Marvelous Secret Garden, this comes from a reader’s observations of me after reading many of my blogs. As he continues to read he has added more of what he believes he sees in me….
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As with all things, if left alone, they grow wild until tamed by something. It is the same with Marti’s secret garden. It grows wild with love, adoration and want.
For my getting to know her through reading about her, feeling not thinking, it is true that my vision of her secret garden comes from her written word, and speaks to my heart and soul.
All of us have a secret garden, Marti is no different, though for me through her words. makes the garden come alive in my mind. There is peace here, though turmiol rest with it’s agitated back against a tree across the bank, where the wood is dark, and the memories of wrongs, slights, lies and downright dirty deeds done to Marti, live, not allowed to come across the water, for there is not bridge back, and the beautiful part of the garden is for life, love and peace.
It is there we dwell and my vision continues, as I sit outside on a bench close to the heavy wooden door. The stone wall feels cool on my back, and the flowers within send their aromatic ecstasy on the air to me. I imagine lavender roses, bunched so thickly together that to cut a brimming vase would not even leave a bare spot in the lush planting. Not only the roses are lavender, but lavender itself laces the air with raptured perfumes. The grass here is as an Irish meadow of kelly green, so beautiful as to make one lie down and feel it’s soft coolness on your cheek. I see Marti here. She wears a white dress, with a shear over top, and she frolicks with uncaring through her garden, pausing to smell a lavender rose, or to pinch a magnolia flower from the tree and put it in her hair just above her left ear. Love abounds in the garden, Marti’s love, untrussed and wild, free. I’m walking with her now, holding her hand. She is pointing to the left and right, and shading her eyes against a brillant sunset fading slowly, dipping below the low rising hills crowned with wildflowers, sheltering this spring’s fawns. The latch rattles on the gate, and brings me back from my fantasy.
“Who is that with out?” Marti asks. “What do you want? Is it my love you seek to discover?” I do not answer, instead bundling my head low between my shoulders and letting patience rule me. For my answer would do no good, it is the key that I seek, so that she should know who waits outside her garden and invite me in, want me there, for all time…….