Our Secret Garden

Past the greenhouse meadow trail there is an overlook with a view of our neighbor’s farm. In the brush there is a hidden trail going downhill and trailing behind the barn. Around that trail past a large rock and through tall stems of goldenrod, there is a clearing underneath an old red apple tree where Matthew has hung a wooden swing. I have nicknamed this hidden space our own secret garden.

The 1990s film adaption of Francis Hodgson Burnett’s Secret Garden was a favorite of mine. I used to borrow it from Blockbuster as a kid, and my brother, cousins and I must have watched it at least a dozen times during the summer of 2012 when we stayed at my grandmother’s house. The dream sequence where her aunt was in the garden always stuck with me, the haunting words “I’m in the garden,” echoing in my memory.

It was not until after I nicknamed the lower garden as “our secret garden” that I remembered the original secret garden had a wooden swing with rope handles just like the one Matthew hung on the apple tree for me.

We are only tenants of this land, but if we owned it, I would plant more flowers and create special coves for reading nooks and picnic spaces all over the property. I would place a bench or bistro table by the lilac tree next to the pond and a large garden behind the barn. In the lower field I would plant a small orchard with apple and peach trees.

The barn would be repaired as used to house six babydoll sheep and a chicken coop will be set up for chickens. In the fall I would host my annual family Harvest Picnic in the barn and we would use a cider press to make fresh apple cider, eat dinner together on two rows of long tables and dance under the bistro lights hung on the barn.

As for now, these hidden trails and pathways are more than enough for the imagination. The grass here grows tall, even taller than myself in some areas, and these pathways make it possible for me to explore and weave in and out of the hills and fields behind the cottage.

In the mornings I bring a cup of tea with me and sit on the swing. After work I walk down these paths and admire the sunset. You cannot see the cars from the road down here and the noise is dimmed from the hills. Birds chirp and we often see deer leaping in the lower field. This space feels hidden, like a secret. It is a natural garden of Queen Anne’s lace and goldenrod. Crab apples grow on a tree on the hill.

My inner child rediscovers joy and simplicity here. Time slows. The craziness of the world fades. I’m present.

Finding joy in the little things.