We’ve arrived at that point in the season where it seems as if it’s always been summer and winter is no more than a myth we can’t quite recall.
The sun king strides across the horizon with total confidence in his all powerful authority and dominion. His powerful gaze penetrates even the shadiest forest glen.
Around me the garden has become an emerald wall that conceals me from all but the tallest of my neighbors. It also hides from my view their rusty trucks and old cars. It is in fact an anomaly, a secret kingdom, a kind of a Brigadoon where magic has made its home.
In the first light of day the morning wind mixes the scent of roses and lilies and lavender and distributes this sensual elixir through out the whole area. As pleasant as that scent is it is no match for the toxic fumes of the highway just outside of my garden gate.
It saddens me to know that this garden still needs care. But for now at least it thrives with amazing vigor burgeoning with exuberant colors and filled with the promise of what is yet to come.
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