Here’s my gift to you.
The garden outside the house that I called my first real home, it was wild and magical. A gardener had planted it once, but then for decades hippies had lived there and they let it grow and now all the small stone paths were overgrown. The garden stretched all the way down to the water, but there was a fence just between us and the water. One third of the way up to the house was a fire place, where we used to sit or lay down during the summer nights. I fell asleep there a couple of times. Right next to the fireplace was a tree with very long, low branches and thick foliage, so it was almost like a big cave under it. We would put a mattress in there and rest there when it was raining.
