A girl once grew up in a small garden, covered with jungle like natives hanging low, allowing dappled light to seep in. With her pearls and silky frills she would put on her very best to go out into the garden where her fairy tales came to life. She made friends with all that lived beneath her toes. She spoke with the wind as it brushed by - sharing it her secrets so she wouldn't have to hold onto them - too beautiful to carry they were. She found beauty in everything. Beneath the hanging tree she gave life to the leaves that had fallen and picked the seemingly withered roses- for true beauty was not found in perfection. She knew a beauty that many others did not. She fell into many sleepless nights excited for the new dawn of possibilities.
As she grew, the garden made her wiser, stronger and more intelligent. It fashioned her for freedom and love. She always found home in the garden. Passion drove her to share the stories of beauty found in the wild foliage. She knew that she couldn't rest in this perfect utopia forever- and if she did the world would never know of what it held, it was soon to be taken away from her. The Beauty found was now to be given…
These photos were taken in my grandmothers garden, a garden that is over 50 years old. Its beautiful and wild, filled with all sorts of blooms, trees and the greenest of grass. As I type this, it is to be razed to the ground- the garden has to be destroyed. Poison was found in the attic of the house. Everything must go. Deeply devastating. Or seemingly so. The healing and love and golden life that wrapped us in this garden is worn by each of us as we carry the found love stories into new fields.
The lost garden found in each of us.
Photos by my mother
Written by Bella Thomas
Words edited by Erica Yi