It's been a while since I have been here....but this place forever stays in my heart. I had to pause and ponder the significance of the reflections. I know many times I walked this garden and found that it also reflected to me many things to ponder as well. Isn't "ponder" a fun word. I could have used "reflect" but then it would have conflicted with my true meaning.
I remember the sound the pebbles made as I made my way towards the river. All along the way you see scenes like this where a massive Live Oak creates "rooms" that lead to small places to sit and rest and yes, to ponder. It's a truly magical place. It's called Washington Oaks Garden in Florida, right off A1A.
I've been here with my sketch book, my camera, and also with nothing but an open mind and heart. Each time I left with treasures. I have pressed fallen leaves into my sketch book, a stray rose petal that had fallen and laid across the brick steps, and I even drew out a few flowers but mostly I just let it all wash over me in waves of magical silence, as only nature can.
The wind, oh the wind. I so loved listening to the wind as it danced through the trees. It was like a waltz that only your heart could hear. I'd hold my breath at each dragonfly sighting. Not one was the same as the last. Yet all had the gossamer wings that glistened in the sunlight like silk. It's a place where your soul can linger, even if your body is not there.
I am half a country away now, or so it seems sometimes. I live in a place that has it's own charm. Yet, my heart lingers in this garden, in this place. Frozen in time, in my thoughts.
The bloom of youth may perhaps be off the rose, but the rose forever blushes at the thoughts of what once was the sounding board of logic in a time when logic had no meaning.
I've seen a few snakes slither their way in the garden, I am told they were beneficial and to let them be, as if I were going to jump up and wrestle them to death or something? I remember thinking, all gardens seem to have something horrific that should not be there, beneficial or not. Watch your step, I'd hear as we hiked from the picnic area along the rivers edge towards the garden. Trust me, my steps were watched, and not always by me, either.
The snakes did not deter me, then...my mind was settled on seeing the shimmering blue water of the river, the sound of the wind and feeling the hot Florida sun on my face. There always seemed to be a few men fishing along the river. I remember someone saying, "Why fish when you can go to the store to buy them?" I smiled because even though I do not fish, I knew the pleasure they received from the act of fishing, it wasn't something I could explain to a person who could ask such a question.
When we wake up on the other side of youth, we start to question things. Well, that was what I was told would happen. I don't question much. I know that if I had not traveled the path I traveled in life, I would not be where I am today. That everything really does happen for a reason. Oh we might not figure out that reason at the time, or even ever, but there are reasons.
My creative endeavors have encompassed all sorts of art, drawing, designing, and the writing of a few fictional stories. I feed off nature. It seems to quench my thirsty soul in ways that nothing else can. My creative side is always restless, never satisfied, always seeking, always. I think that is what we are meant to do. To never be content with the way things are, to always seek knowledge and growth.
Sweet friends, I hope your day is filled with much joy and that what ever your heart seeks, it will be filled with it's desires.
Giving a heads up and a shout out....the Mo and Jo stories are coming back...I know, I know...run for the hills, hide the children and chain up the dogs...the boys are coming back!

How beautiful Vicki. I almost feel as though I was there with you. The description is magical.
ReplyDeleteI hope all is well with you my sweet friend and I'm looking forward to seeing what mischief the boys are up to.
Blessings and love,
Betsy
What a lovely essay about a sacred space. We don’t have live oaks here in Idaho, but I can imagine what the “rooms” they create are like. There is a bridge in my hometown county that crosses over the wild Salmon River (the “river of no return”), and just past the bridge is a dirt road that leads down to the underpass. From the various sinkers and bits of fishing line you usually spot among the rocks, it’s apparently a good fishing hole under there. I used to go there on lunch breaks to just sit and listen to the water roll by. Some spaces are indeed sacred.
ReplyDeleteLordy help us. Mo and Jo are coming? Duck and cover and stock up on gingersnaps.
Vickie dear, I came upon this entry a bit late...things do
ReplyDeletehappen for a reason.. this day we lost a beloved Friend to
COVID, an exquisite soul, and journeying with you through
Washington Oaks brought solace to my soul. Bless you for sharing that giftedness.
I am so sorry to hear about your sweet Friend. What a lovely thing to say that they were an "exquisite soul" ((hugs)). I am humbled that something I wrote gave you solace. Thank you for your kind words. Our world is loosing far too many beautiful souls to this horrible virus. ((hugs)). Blessings to you always.
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