My Secret Garden

When I was young I was a daydreamer.  I loved to read, and when I wasn’t reading a book I was daydreaming about stories I had read.  Being shy around other people, I didn’t enjoy being out in public or going to school.  I was happiest when I was home with my family and my books.  The fact that the cabin was so isolated was one of the reasons it was my favorite place to be.

One of my favorite books growing up was The Secret Garden.  I read it when I was in elementary school and again in junior high.  One summer I got the idea of making my own secret garden at the cabin.  The first day of our vacation I walked up and down the creek, looking for a good, secluded spot I could make my own. We didn't actually own any of the property down by the creek, but that didn't stop me.  No one else seemed to own the land and I never saw anyone around, so I found a place, down the creek below the bluffs, that was pretty and sort-of hidden by wild grape vines hanging from the trees, and I claimed it as my own.

Every day, I went to my special place and worked.  I cleared out brush and dead branches, dug up weeds, and tried to transplant flowers and pretty plants.  In the book, The Secret Garden, the heroin brought life back to a garden that had been deserted for 10 years.  I tried to create a garden like the one described in the book.  I carried big rocks up from the creek and used them to create borders.  In the middle of the garden I made a circle of rocks and built a sort of bird bath out of an old wash basin and a piece of metal pipe.   Around the edges of my garden I made rectangular planter boxes. 

There was an old toilet lying around in the shed.  I pulled and pushed that heavy old thing all the way to my garden.  It fell and broke just as I got it in place under the hanging grape vines. I cut my thumb on a jagged edge of enamel, and it bled and bled.  I had to stop work for the rest of that day because the cut wouldn’t stop bleeding, but the next day I went back to my garden and filled the toilet with dirt, making it into a planter. 

After all the planter boxes were finished I searched the forest for small plants and flowers  to dig up and transplant into the garden.  I found lots of pretty little plants with broad, light green leaves.  They looked like they might have flowers when they grew bigger, so I filled my planter boxes with them.  I also dug up some little white daisies and a couple of Indian Paint Brushes and put them in my garden. 

Last of all, I found a huge old log not too far from my project.  I dragged it down and placed it on the edge of my garden, making a pretty, though rather wobbly, bench for people to sit on. 

When the garden was finished, I brought mom, Linda, Julie, and Sharon down to see it.  I  knew it didn’t really look much like a garden, but my sisters made me feel good by telling me how beautiful they thought it was.

It wasn’t long before the forest took back over the secret garden, but it was possible to see the outline of the planter boxes years later.  The old log became covered with moss on one side, and the bird bath fell apart.  Both it and the toilet disappeared after a few years.  Still, the feeling of solitude and peace remained in that spot.  Years later  I would go there to dream and draw pictures while I sat on the log.  For me, it was still a secret place full of dreams and hopes and beauty.