The garden looked lush. The trees were showing off their mid-summer splendor with their deep green leaves creating a shadowy canopy over the asters that would bloom in the fall and whose fern-like leaves looked like the perfect hiding place for fairies and gnomes. I had always loved summer gardens in the rural villages where I grew up, in the very center of Germany. They invited my imagination to run wild, and I always called my parents’ garden an island of clean air and calm, green happiness. Paul’s parents had done a wonderful job in their garden as well. I could take in a great deal of its beauty when I made my way through the garage into the garden.
They had filled the green lawn with two small canvas pavilions, a precaution against possible summer rain, and a few of Paul’s relatives were sitting in their shade. The relatives would disappear from the garden and the party after a while, leaving the younger generation to its partying. For now, however, Paul wasn’t only saying goodbye to his friends but also to his aunts and uncles and his many cousins who were close to him in age. He had made this night a party for everyone; a celebration to say goodbye before he left for college in the U.S.
I was happy that I had arrived before sunset. Paul’s family had only moved into this house a few months ago. I had wanted to see as much of the family’s new home as I could before he left, and that included the beauty of their garden. Another magical backyard in the center of Germany.
Paul walked up to me as soon as I passed through the garage. He smiled at me and leaned down for a hug. I rose to the tips of my toes so I could reach for his shoulders.
“You look good,” he said. He never used a lot of words to speak his mind. He didn’t enjoy small talk and mindless chatter. But the words that he did speak always held meaning.
The Doctors By Alice X Zhang
- Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
In the northern part of Norway we have had lots of whales following the herring along the coast in the winter time. The light is sparesome, but when it comes it can be a magical light by Kim Abel
- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone