Now Playing Tracks

paperdollhearts: A Garden Story A few years of my childhood, we lived in a flat. We had one neighbour below us who despite being kind enough to invite me in for tea every so often was decidedly disagreeable. Unfortunately, we shared a garden with this neighbour. The garden was large and surrounded by a thick hedge on nearly all sides. Besides the four towering pine trees, the garden was most unremarkable. It had a manicured lawn and flowerbeds at each end. The flowerbeds contained a few dotted blossoms, nearly as affected as the neighbours themselves.  Dreaming of gardens with overgrown bluebells, climbing vines, blooming roses, spiraling honeysuckle and lilac’s humming in the breeze, I had a mission. Every day after school I would collect seedlings on my way home and plant them throughout the garden. By the time half a year had passed, the garden was a fairy’s paradise. Primrose, rosemary and sweet woodruff laced through the grassy slope, moss covered every stone, pansies and rose buds bobbed in the flowerbeds. Schoolmates over for a visit would beg to see the garden - so full of life and enchantment. Little hedgehogs, fluffy bunnies and cuddly kittens would pass through on occasion. It was perfect.  One afternoon, after a particularly grueling last day of school, I arrived in the garden with lavender seedlings in hand. I was in process of preparing the soil when a hand lit down upon me, spilling the seedlings in the process. Clutching my stinging cheek I sprang back - it was the neighbour. The neighbour - who was most displeased with the lively garden swore to “get things back in order.” Over the following week, I watched in tears as flowers were clipped and roots were upturned. After the garden appeared listless once again, the neighbour was satisfied.  Summertime found me with mates in the countryside. I received a letter from my mum who detailed that frogs had been creeping onto the neighbour’s patio and jumping through their windows at night. “Fairies will get their own revenge” I mused. Upon coming home I found the garden far more lively - apparently there had been a change of heart. Photo: Mottisfont Abbey Gardens, Hampshire 
Zoom

paperdollhearts:

A Garden Story

A few years of my childhood, we lived in a flat. We had one neighbour below us who despite being kind enough to invite me in for tea every so often was decidedly disagreeable. Unfortunately, we shared a garden with this neighbour. The garden was large and surrounded by a thick hedge on nearly all sides. Besides the four towering pine trees, the garden was most unremarkable. It had a manicured lawn and flowerbeds at each end. The flowerbeds contained a few dotted blossoms, nearly as affected as the neighbours themselves. 

Dreaming of gardens with overgrown bluebells, climbing vines, blooming roses, spiraling honeysuckle and lilac’s humming in the breeze, I had a mission. Every day after school I would collect seedlings on my way home and plant them throughout the garden. By the time half a year had passed, the garden was a fairy’s paradise. Primrose, rosemary and sweet woodruff laced through the grassy slope, moss covered every stone, pansies and rose buds bobbed in the flowerbeds. Schoolmates over for a visit would beg to see the garden - so full of life and enchantment. Little hedgehogs, fluffy bunnies and cuddly kittens would pass through on occasion. It was perfect. 

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling last day of school, I arrived in the garden with lavender seedlings in hand. I was in process of preparing the soil when a hand lit down upon me, spilling the seedlings in the process. Clutching my stinging cheek I sprang back - it was the neighbour. The neighbour - who was most displeased with the lively garden swore to “get things back in order.” Over the following week, I watched in tears as flowers were clipped and roots were upturned. After the garden appeared listless once again, the neighbour was satisfied. 

Summertime found me with mates in the countryside. I received a letter from my mum who detailed that frogs had been creeping onto the neighbour’s patio and jumping through their windows at night. “Fairies will get their own revenge” I mused. Upon coming home I found the garden far more lively - apparently there had been a change of heart.

Photo: Mottisfont Abbey Gardens, Hampshire 

redgoldsparks: The tag to Widget’s tent. From The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern: “…a black and white etching of a child in a bed covered in fluffy pillows and a checkered quilt, not in a nursery but under a star-spangled night sky… The opposite side is white with elegant calligraphy in black ink that reads: Bedtime Stories/ Eventide Rhapsodies/ Anthologies of Memory/ Please enter cautiously/ and feel free to open what is closed.”   page 236
Zoom
redgoldsparks: The tag to Widget’s tent. From The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern: “…a black and white etching of a child in a bed covered in fluffy pillows and a checkered quilt, not in a nursery but under a star-spangled night sky… The opposite side is white with elegant calligraphy in black ink that reads: Bedtime Stories/ Eventide Rhapsodies/ Anthologies of Memory/ Please enter cautiously/ and feel free to open what is closed.”   page 236
Zoom Info
redgoldsparks: The tag to Widget’s tent. From The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern: “…a black and white etching of a child in a bed covered in fluffy pillows and a checkered quilt, not in a nursery but under a star-spangled night sky… The opposite side is white with elegant calligraphy in black ink that reads: Bedtime Stories/ Eventide Rhapsodies/ Anthologies of Memory/ Please enter cautiously/ and feel free to open what is closed.”   page 236
Zoom Info

redgoldsparks:

The tag to Widget’s tent. From The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern:

“…a black and white etching of a child in a bed covered in fluffy pillows and a checkered quilt, not in a nursery but under a star-spangled night sky… The opposite side is white with elegant calligraphy in black ink that reads: Bedtime Stories/ Eventide Rhapsodies/ Anthologies of Memory/ Please enter cautiously/ and feel free to open what is closed.”  

page 236

To Tumblr, Love Pixel Union