Victoria’s Garden

Victoria's Garden

I have composed a fantasy of a garden that serves as a reminder that beauty and life are everywhere. This garden is a luscious and sensual place that will sway the senses and warm the soul.

I awaken this glorious spring morning just as the sun becomes prominent in the horizon. I yawn softly and stretch my lithe body to prepare it for the day. My heart begins to race as excitement fills my veins. It is time to go to the garden. As I clothe myself in a long flowing dress the color of lemon chiffon, I ponder upon the beauty that is yet to be seen. I waltz through the large, endless stairwell. I can hear the soft pitter-patter of the leaky kitchen sink downstairs. Once downstairs, I prepare a light breakfast consisting of buttered toast with jam and a cup of mint tea sweetened with honey. As I finish my breakfast and swirl the last drop of honey on my tongue like a god’s finest ambrosia, I make my way to the garden. Once I step outside, a feeling of pure contentment washes over me. I feel whole and complete. The beauty of the surrounding nature which lies ahead of me is enough to make anyone’s day go well. I slowly make my way around the veranda. As I take that first step off of the veranda, I finally enter the enchanted place that I like to call Victoria’s Garden.

The entrance to the garden begins with an intricately designed lattice archway. A massive vine of elegant English roses envelops the archway. Their fragile, antique scent drifts through my senses. Their pale, peach color and slippery feel reminds me of a fine damask silk waiting to be caressed over warm, nude flesh. As I reach out to pluck one of the roses, a neighboring crab apple tree catches my attention.

As I walk over to the crab apple tree, I slowly admire its lovely flowers. As I bend to smell one, I stumble upon a lone honey bee. The vibrant color of this seemingly lonely creature is mustard yellow and obsidian. I can hear its gentle buzz. Its sheer, frail wings are clapping together lovingly while it indulges in a delectable sip of nectar which is dripping from the apple blossom like sweet, golden honey fresh from the comb.

As I reluctantly depart from my newfound friend, I am seduced by the faint smell of gardenia. As my nose guides the way, I see a beautiful gardenia bush. I yearn for a more tantalizing view. Each flower is a rich ivory color. It reminds me of fresh cream. Each petal feels like soft, smooth suede with iridescent flecks of pastels. I can see tiny sparkles of pink, yellow, and pale green. As I am inspecting this wondrous flower, I realize that there is no comparison to its addictive aroma. Even fine French cologne could not take its place.

After leaving the heady gardenia, I come to a halt beside of an elderly oak tree. This prehistoric giant will surely be the shoulder for any tired traveler. Perhaps even the companion of a nature lover’s speculation. As I lean into its rough countenance, I notice a small gathering of army ants traveling along the small cracks in the bark. The ants come to a halt as they run into a slick patch of forest green moss. Once they find their way through the troublesome labyrinth, they enter a small hole in the tree and disappear from sight. I suddenly avert my attention to a mother robin. She is singing gaily from her nest in the oak. I take a moment to enjoy her sweet song. I inhale a deep breath and then slowly exhale.

I make my way to the nearby brook. As I softly patter to the edge of the brook, I see my reflection winking back at me. The brook seems to be one huge diamond with swirls of sapphire and emerald. I can also see the mocking images of the voluptuous cumulus clouds above me. I graze the cool, wet surface of the water with my fingertips. An ornamental goldfish with brush strokes of cinnamon and tangerine nips at my fingers. Tiredly, I realize that it is time for an afternoon nap. I lay myself down on a soft bed of grass beside the brook and I fall fast asleep within minutes.

I awaken to the sound of goldfish dancing with excitement below the surface of the water. They are frolicking about creating ripples of joy all over the brook. As I stretch and yawn, I realize that the sun is beginning to set and it is time to journey home. I slowly retrace my steps back through the garden. As I reach the latticed archway, I turn and give Victoria’s Garden one last look. This day I take with me a precious gift. This gift is a reminder of the beauty that surrounds us all.

Composition and photo property of Millie Padigimus.