Well, enjoy it....I still say it is better, even after just reading the fortress one with you.........
Upon first observing it, the garden appeared to be quiet. It seemed that all was still, like a small place in the world with total tranquility. However, one could not stay in the garden long without discovering that it was full of life and music. The stream composed its own symphony as it rippled over stones and swirled in pools. The birds had their own notes to sing as they fluttered out of the branches and dipped themselves into the sparkling water. Every now and then a breeze would rustle the lush leaves and a cricket would play his own melody. It was on a beautiful day when all this misic was playing cheerily and the sun was smiling upon the garden that the Keeper decided that all was ready. The person for whom he had so carefully tended this garden was coming!
With all the joyful abandon of a six-year old she ran through the open gate and skipped down the pebbled path. Her eyes shone with delight as she saw for the first time the beauty around her. She laughed at the antics of the birds. She gathered flowers of the most brilliant colors into her arms and wove them in her hair. She splashed in the stream and chased its golden fish. At last she wore herself out and curled up in the shade of a willow tree to sleep. While she slept, the Keeper watched. He delighted in every smile that slipped across her face because of some pleasant dream. He thought of every laugh that she had let ring through the air and he knew that all of it was good. He looked upon the child with love and wanted to keep her in the garden always, but he knew it couldn't be so. All he could do was leave the gate unlocked so that she could visit whenever she wished.
Some years went by, and the girl visited often. Each time she came, she found some new delight that the Keeper had put here for her. She loved her time in the garden, and she never missed an opportunity to come.
On a day when the sun was shining its brightest the girl came to her beloved garden again. She opened the gate slowly, as though contemplating all that was within. Her twelve-year-old eyes looked as though they were searching for something. Her walk through the garden was slow, and she looked over everything with a critical eye. She searched the garden high and low, as if trying to learn everything about it. At last, exhausted with her search, she went to the stream to splash a little cold water on her face. This objective was soon forgotten, for she suddenly noticed that she could not see her reflection in the water. She made several attempts, but to no avail. With a startled expression on her face, she hurriedly stepped away from the stream and rushed out of the garden, slamming the gate behind her. The Keeper watched all this, his heart aching for the confused girl.
The girl did not return for a long time. The garden grew still, the life seemed to fade. The Keeper continued to care for the garden, but the life seemed to be ebbing away, like the life of a flower which has outlived its season. One day, the sun suddenly burst forth, the stream began to bubble more merrily, the birds began to sing, and an entire spectrum of colors erupted from the flower buds. The Keeper knew what this meant: the girl was returning to the garden!
She carried a picture with her when she came. Upon passing through the gate, she scarcely noticed the arc of pink roses above her head. Her fourteen-year-old eyes were on the picture. Her eyes sparkled and she sang a happy tune as she made her way to a bench nestled between two beds of the pink roses. Their vines wove their way up the nearby trees, creating a canopy of sweetly fragranced blossoms. As she continued to hold the picture, a slight breeze ruffled the petals and a few floated down and settled around her. She stayed for a while, her eyes always on the picture.
After that day, she often came with a picture like this, her eyes transfixed on its subject. Just as often she left a picture there, forgetting it with the hope of a better one. Occasionally, a picture was crumpled by her fist and thrown into a corner of the garden's walls. Each time, the Keeper picked up the forgotten or discarded pictures and put them in a cedar box after the girl had left the garden.
The years passed, and the girl grew into a beautiful young woman. She still brought her pictures into the garden, but she would hold on to them for longer periods of time before leaving them behind. She was now eighteen, and she had been holding on to a picture for several months. On a quiet, peaceful evening she brought the subject of the picture into the garden with her. At first he appeared to love the garden as much as she did, but after a while he began to damage the garden. He trampled the flower beds, muddied the stream, frightened the birds, kicked the pebbles out of the paths, and broke tree branches. Finally, on a cold and cloudy evening, he entered the garden in a rage, overturned all the benches, uprooted all the flower beds, and stormed out, slamming the gate closed with a deafening crash. The young lady sank to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. When her tears were spent, she left, closing the gate and locking it behind her. Inside the garden, the Keeper wept.
Many months passed by, and the garden remained locked. Within, the Keeper was working hard to repair the damage. Eventually, the stream, cleared, the birds returned, the flowers were restored, the path was straightened, and the benches were put upright. The original beauty and trnquility was beginning to be restored.
Finally, on a warm day with the sun shining softly, the gate was unlocked, and the young lady timidly pushed open the gate and entered the garden. She smiled upon seeing things that had been restored, but a shadow crossed her face upon seeing things that still bore the marks of the unworthy visitor. After wandering around the garden a while, she knelt by a flower bed and began to tend its blossoms.
She came to the garden daily after that, and the Keeper would often leave tools out so she could help tend the garden. Under the careful care of two pairs of hands, the garden flourished, becoming many times more beautiful than it had ever been before.
One morning the Keeper decided that the time had come. He took out the old cedar box full of pictures and left a single photo on a bench by the stream. When the young lady entered her beloved garden, she saw with surprise that a picture was on the bench instead of a gardening tool. A shadow crossed over her face as if she were remembering the damage that resulted from the last picture she carried. When she left the garden, the picture remained on the bench.
The weeks passed by, and every day the Keeper placed the picture on the bench, and every day she left it there. Once or twice she picked it up as if she were considering its subject, but it was always dropped hastily after a moment. In the meantime, the Keeper was constructing something in the corner of the garden, something that was given looks of confusion each time the young lady passed it.
One day she entered the garden and saw that the project had been completed. It was a beautiful white shelter with vines just beginning to climb up the side and flower beds on each side of it, waiting to be planted. Inside were benches and tables, as well as a small fountain in the middle. With a cry of delight ahe entered the shelter, looking at everything with eager eyes. Suddenly, she looked startled. She was staring at a small white table. On it was a silver locket, a pair of scissors, and the very same picture that had lain on the bench for so long. It seemed that she stared at that table for hours, looking utterly confused and troubled. At last, she took the scissors and cut the picture to fit into the locket, but when she left the garden, the locket was still on the table.
Day after day she returned, and each day she found things to be the same. The locket was on the table and the flower beds were still unplanted. Often she would sit down and stare at the picture in the locket, but she never put the locket on.
On a clear, starry night the young lady slipped into the garden and went directly to the white shelter. Without a moment of hesitation she fastened the clasp around her neck and left the garden, wearing the locket at last. The next few months were not much different from those that preceded them. The only difference was the presence of the locket. At times it was clasped firmly in the woman's hand, at times it swung freely as she tended to her garden. She would look inside the locket often, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with despair, but it never left her.
Finally, on a bright, clear day she entered the garden with another person. First, her frightened face came into view, then the equally nervous face of the man whose picture had been before her for so long. In his hands was a small potted rose bush. Together they knelt by one of the empty flower beds by the shelter and planted it. They spent many hours walking about the garden that day, talking and laughing. When at last it was time for them to part, they each seemed reluctant to leave.
The new visitor came to the garden often after that day. Sometimes he would bring a new plant or a packet of seeds, and he and the lady would work on the flower beds together. Other times they would simply enjoy their time together as he became familiar with the garden.
The Keeper watched all of this, and his heart was glad. He had made this garden for both of them, not just for her. Only the Keeper knew who the other person in the garden should be, and he showed this to her at just the right time. Her own choice had ruined the garden, but the Keeper's choice had brought the garden more glory than it had ever had before. The Keeper looked upon the garden, and when he saw that it was just the way he had planned it, he smiled. It was good.
Well, what did ye think........I like it whether you do or not.......as if your opinion mattered in my world......wait my world....where have I heard that before.....
