In The Fairy Garden


Power. You either have it, or you don't. And that's the way it will always be. So, I'm sitting in my garden in England, it's a tourist area.
           I'm imagining the beach to be over crowded so apt for the comfort of the garden. The back garden. It's private. The garden itself isn't small. Or large. It just, is. Just average. I've noticed the flowers my step-father planted last year have suddenly come to life given the glorious heat. Notice the emphasis here. Glorious. I am a sun worshiper. So, all sorts of colours line the garden, oranges and reds, separated by standing solar lights. This is my mother's little piece of involvement regarding the garden. My step-father is a gardener you see, so it's our job to stay away from it. They change colour, the solar lights that is. She likes colours, all sorts of colours bright beautiful colours, but if I had it my way they would be plain white. White is a classy colour and wouldn't contrast so dangerously with the flowers, and to be honest I think she has overdone it with the solar lights because there are some red dragonfly solar lights hanging from the swinging chair too.
          Don't get me wrong, it's a pretty sight, if you have a love for many colours. I could almost imagine fairies to be playing among snowflakes in the winter. If the grass was higher and the moon lit the solar lights...
          Then there is that split second when you wonder about the relevancy of what you have just been thinking... Comparing the amount of time it took to think it, against the amount of time it took to write it. Therefore against the amount of time, in sum, that you have wasted just thinking about...



Nothing...

                 At all...



By Boneata Bell

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Change

Assisi