I CHERISH THE WINTER

- THE WONDERS OF WINTER -

Is there not something particularly special about having to stay inside on a cold and blustery day - knowing you absolutely must make a hot chocolate, tend the fire, and spend three hours reading a book?

There is so much that is special about winter. Where to start...

Well firstly, making a fire is special in itself - as it involves scrunching up the newspaper, getting ink on your hands, and staring into the burning embers, letting them erase all your thoughts until your mind is enveloped by that black light and you forget about the room you are in. 

 

hoar frost Queenstown New Zealand
Waking up to a carpet of snow is a magical feeling. 
Almost as if the whole world was dusted with icing sugar in the wee hours of the night.
Old-Montreal-winter-snow-colourful-houses
The snow makes all colours look that much brighter.
Gaudy houses become part of Santa's Village.
hoar frost on trees NZ
Occasionally, our kingdom is visited by the White Witch from the wardrobe, and all the land is enveloped in a frost.
 
snowy hills
 
red riding hood in winter
It is also very amusing when my breath comes out in a puff of clouds. That makes me laugh.
river-stones-adventure
Besides, the adventures of Winter are always some of the best.
And when I return home, my cheeks are all hot and flushed from running through in the cold headwinds for so long. You can't beat that feeling of exhilaration. 

NATURE OUT OF PLACE

Sometimes as I am walking, I like to pick a flower, or an odd looking rock, and pass it between my fingers or from hand to hand. 

Then I place the flower or rock in a place it would never think to be - because hydrangeas should not grow in thorny hedges, for propriety's sake; and rough quartz stones do not belong on the top of a fence post (for how should they get up so high in the first place?). 

After I have left it there, I think of the person who will come across it, and who will know that somebody intentionally placed it there. Maybe then they will smile.

HIDDEN GARDENS

- MY SECRET GARDEN -

Make your way over the green turfs of the golf course, towards the back end; cross the river and then a stream, walk a ways through the trees, and you will find the secret garden. 

"This way."

"Don't get your feet wet."

"I think it is better to cross here, there are a few stepping stones." 

I was fifteen when I was first taken to the garden. Nobody knew who kept it in good condition - who had cut the lawns, or put up the rope swing. The garden path ran alongside the river, dipping in and out of small dells filled with mossy lawns and tall trees. Human hands had been at work there, yet it seemed somehow natural, without flowerbed or symmetry to ruin the organic designs of those weaving walkways. It was as if a spirit had walked there, and in its wake lay a trail of dead leaves, cutting through the archways of bush and fern.

The discovery of that garden, by my young friends, must have been a happy chance indeed. For who would know to walk that far into the woods, behind a large golf course... Only children would venture so far. Those were the days where we walked a lot. Without cars, without cares, without bedtimes. 

I went back to the garden many times, and even found a garden of my own - much nearer to my house. This garden was an open dell, by the riverside, and placed there by some unknown hand was a stone plinth. I spent a lot of time wandering these gardens, pondering the magic of such hidden places.

Later, I carefully crafted small plaques to let others know of the magic that dwelt there - in the gold course garden, and by the river. The plaques were of brass, and the messages were somewhat cryptic, but who would even see them? The fairies? It turns out, secret gardens are visited by many wandering souls...

The plaque on the plinth reads:

Look around, find something special and place it here. 

To this date, I have found many special things on that plinth: 

A round rock, broken in two halves.
A rusted key.
A piece of papery bark, from an shedding tree.
An old shoe.
A drying fern.

These new discoveries never cease to delight me, when I visit. It is as if I am communicating with the unseen visitors. They know what I know: that these gardens are something special, in and of themselves.