At last!

I remember reading The Secret Garden when I was little, and while I loved it, I couldn't really identify with it. The Yorkshire moors don't have all that much in common with Hawaiian rainforests (and, much to my disappointment when I visited them a few years ago, they're butt-ugly. Frances Hodgson-Burnett is full of crap).

I tried to grow my own secret garden in my backyard. That is, I found a secluded spot and thought really hard about planting stuff there. But I knew all along it just wasn't going to work--there was no wall, no ivy, and most of all, no robins. We have no robins in Hawaii. And what is a secret garden without a robin guardian?

When Guy and I moved into the house, the backyard was basically a pre-Mary, Diccon, and Colin Secret Garden. It was crazy. But last October, Guy and I, armed with some monster clippers, cleared everything out of there. And what we discovererd! A bluestone pathway! An azalea bush! Not to mention evil demon weeds! And now, the secret garden is really coming along--the grass is growing, the daffodils are, well, done blooming. The herbs are coming up (hurrah!) and even the non-Englishy black-eyed susans (my concession to Guy) are pushing forth.

But still, something was missing. I planted flax, I planted poppies. We have some serious roses. No ivy, but I like morning glories better. But it just wasn't quite right. And then, this morning, our garden reached its full potential.



We have a robin's nest. Right there amongst the roses. How perfect is that?!?

Never fear, Boy and Girl have already been sternly lectured on the rules of birds' nests: No touching, no touching, no touching. And no throwing stuff at it. But look forward to many updates re: Our Secret Garden, as it is now officially dubbed.

Song:
Idle, Hem
(Who are from Carleton, by the way!)

Quote:
"What is that?" she said, pointing out of the window.
Martha, the young housemaid, who had just risen to her feet, looked and pointed also. "That there?" she said.
"Yes."
"That's th' moor," with a good-natured grin. "Does tha' like it?"
"No," answered Mary. "I hate it."
(The Secret Garden)