It was midsummer eve, and I was preparing a special place in the garden. When I was little, this was my favorite tree. I would sit in the crook of its branches and imagine that it possessed some sort of magic, was perhaps even an enchanted being.
This was years before reading The Old Woman In The Wood, though when I did come upon it, in the memorious summer I turned 10, it immediately became my favorite. It seemed perfectly reasonable that my tree might be a handsome prince in disguise. Although looking at it now, some features of this tree are unmistakably feminine.
While I was decorating, a snail came along to check out the prairie verbena. I have the feeling he approved the result.
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