Our new property is just under half an acre. Half an acre is, put simply, enough room to breath, and of course grow a few things. To me, yard is of utmost importance. I grew up in the mountains on acreage that ran into the national forest and ended at heaven. Creeks and forest fires were like bread and wine, and somehow, I will never be able to live with too tiny of a box around me.
This new patch of earth that we hold legal title to is barren enough to still let our imaginations feel giddy. As a child, I always wanted a garden, a flower garden growing with the vitality of Alice in Wonderland and the sacred old-newness that the shoots from The Secret Garden just emerging
bring . . . tingling shivers . . . the kind of excitement that fingers can't rightly touch upon
but our whole beings grasp with such earnestness.
In one section of the yard, the boys and I found the scavenger's treasure needed to create
such a space. . . These simple cement squares offered a beginning to my Tea Garden.
Tea Garden as in tea roses, as in climbing flowers, as in secret garden.
I plan to create a perfect spot, but perfect takes time . . .
As the flowers are planted and the foliage fills in, the garden will become somewhere that, if written of in a storybook, a child would dream of, and plan to have one of their own someday. . .