In the novel “the Secret Garden” by Burnett, the little girl Mary ( I believe this is her name.) found a secret garden behind a way of ivy. The garden was with lifeless roses and looked deserted, but little Mary decided to taking care of the garden herself. It has been years since I read that book, but I vaguely remember that the garden was deserted after the death of the mistress of the house. After her death, the garden was forgotten, or was left behind as part of memory of the lady.
It has been a while for me to write anything on this blog, and I guess it has been a while since you last visited. When I clicked on this page today, I think I unlock the door to my secret garden which has been deserted for a while. In the book, the master of the house did not visit the garden, because he could not bear the pain for his long passed wife. In reality, we tend to keep a little distance from things in transition, because changes make people uncomfortable and confused sometimes.
Relationships are like plants: they need water, sunshine and care. Otherwise, no matter how beautiful it was, plants wither over time. This is my little secret garden, where I keep my dreams, pictures and wildest ideas that I would share with you, in a little old carton box under the rose vine. Every time I come back to the garden, I will go and open that little box and wish to find out that you have gotten my letters.
It is fall now. Winter is around the corner. I am still going to come, sit and write in my secret garden as leaves change colors, and wondering if those roses survive this winter and blossom again next spring.
