Wouldn’t you love a Secret Garden?
Where will magical thinking get you? Well, you could ask J.K.Rowlings or J.R.R Martin; we already know where it got them. Or you can ask Ida Clare and I will tell you where it gets me. Aside from the impossible dream of earning back my investment in the Texas Lottery, magical thinking sends me outdoors to a Secret Garden with low humidity and a temperature in the 70’s.
My Secret Garden has a spring-fed water fall and an old fashion swimming hole that is never muddy and turns me into a beautiful mermaid whose hair floats gloriously through the sparkling water and then dries beautifully without conditioner, hair gel, or something called:
got 2 be glued blasting freeze spray.
In my secret garden, I am friends with the fairy folk who tell me stories about olden times when I used to be Princess of Quite-A-Lot and not The Dowager Queen of Big Lots, about how I used to rule the Forty Acre Wood instead of stalking the bargains of Dollar Tree.
My secret garden has a hammock filled with designer pillows and a gossamer throw from Overstock Dot Bohemia Wagon. I take long uninterrupted naps there where my dreams of financial security and emotional stability come true and I seldom need to raise my voice to anyone with the exception of the occasional troll who wanders in from the hinterlands, otherwise known as Big Thicket.
(The trolls are bad this time of year just before hunting season starts. The whitetail deer keep them thinned out by poking them with their antlers in their beer guts where all their courage and bluster comes pouring out in a puddle and they stumble on back home wondering why their guns are limp and don’t shoot like usual and why they now have no desire to go back into the woods.)
Oh I could go on and on but you get the picture. The possibilities are endless in one's Secret Garden.
I’ve included some photos today of places that look magical to me. I hope you get to visit your Secret Garden very soon.
Hugs,
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