It seems to me that May is a season unto itself when I hear references made to the Garden of Eden or the Eleusinian Fields of Greek mythology my mind conjures up just such images.
May is a season when earth dons her garb of variegated green and wears garlands of flowers in place of jewels. The garden, always a kingdom apart from the world outside its boarders, becomes a place that is truly enchanted.
Neighbors children peak over the fence hoping to spot a fairy (or a cat as the case might be}. When they are invited to enter their faces light up with wonder. Few children these days have ever really experienced a garden or even dreamed a place like this could actually existed in the center of a more utilitarian reality of sidewalks and a busy highway.
But it does exist, a place where fairies and small children are welcome. Even as my pen moves across the paper almost of its own volition I am wrapped in the fragrances of iris and rose, of lilac and lemon verbena.
The morning sunlight filters through the leaves of the old cotton wood creating delicate patterns on the earth beneath its branches.
For me it is enough to know I’ve spent my latter years in a garden that touches the core of small children with its beauty and offers sanctuary to a wounded world.
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