The garden at Marlborough Terrace is like a geode, rocky and dull on the outside, but luminous and beautiful within. I remember the geodes that I collected long ago. The ones I displayed in the garden always seemed to glow. (Only I know they are there.) The vibrant oranges, reds, and greens stood out to me. I also remember the brilliant yellows and blues. Next to last, the royal purple, bright shining, like a warm night. Even murky browns and pitch-dark blacks. I remember shaking the box they were in and hearing the gentle clacks. The luminous things are reflecting light everywhere in the garden, like a crystal hanging from a string, endlessly turning and never going out of its orbit.
The garden is small but plentiful, limited but wide. Hummingbirds flit in and out. Sometimes it feels like it is impossible not to wonder when I’m inside. The outside is an illusion, but it is real within--like the hummingbird nest made of twisted vines that look like green snakes entwined.
Every time I go in the garden, I feel imaginative and forever safe. It has changed my life in the way I appreciate nature.
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1 comment:
Joseph, you write with a poet's heart.
I've always enjoyed our conversations because you have real curiosity and an interesting perspective.
I realize now, that you think and write visually, and that you look beneath the surface of everyday things.
You're very talented! S.H.
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