{"id":4229,"date":"2017-05-17T22:10:14","date_gmt":"2017-05-17T21:10:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/omily.me\/?p=4229"},"modified":"2017-05-18T07:18:31","modified_gmt":"2017-05-18T06:18:31","slug":"magic-in-the-garden","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/omily.me\/en\/magic-in-the-garden\/","title":{"rendered":"Garden magic"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

\n

\"[:nl]Betovering<\/p>\n

I walk to the far end of the garden, where the hedge meets the grass. Its branches, untouched for two years, droop down gently in a green, cascading waterfall. Now and then they ripple in the breeze.<\/p>\n

In a few weeks, the hedge will be cut into a straight rectangle. It will be a bland, boring old lady, all prunes and prisms.<\/p>\n

Now it is a kind friend. A friend who knows all the secrets of the garden, and will reveal them to a select few. She hides bugs, and bird nests. She protects children from colds winds and makes safe corners.<\/p>\n

The grass is long, gone into seed. It looks like a meadow wanting to be played in, waiting for someone to lie down in its green carpet.\u00a0Soft yet tickling, with little bugs exploring grass and the bodies or books on it.<\/p>\n

Buttercups and daisies are sprinkled randomly, where the fairies wanted them most.<\/p>\n

When I get up, it wants to remember a little longer that I was there. It keeps the imprint I made and then slowly lets it go. So slow I almost miss it, the grass sways back up, to dance in the breeze for a little longer.<\/p>\n

It, too, will be cut. In just two hours, Mike will drive a roaring machine over the waving grass, the buttercups and daisies will be mercilessly shaved down in favor of a lawn with evenly cut grass. Hiding it’s character under a fashionable dress that doesn’t really fit it.<\/p>\n

But so a garden must be.<\/p>\n

The sky will be just as blue, the bird will resume it’s song after the noise of the knives fades away. But the magic and the fairies will have gone.<\/p>\n

There is, undeniably, something neat and clean and fresh about the garden now, after the grass was cut. Something that invites to look, but not wander.<\/p>\n

I understand the garden now. I can master it. It is harboring\u00a0no more fairy tales and secrets.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

\"[:nl]Betovering
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<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<\/p>\n

I walk to the far end of the garden, where the hedge meets the grass. Its branches, untouched for two years, droop down gently in a green, cascading waterfall. Now and then they ripple in the breeze.<\/p>\n

In a few weeks, the hedge will be cut into a straight rectangle. It will be a bland, boring old lady, all prunes and prisms.<\/p>\n

Now it is a kind friend. A friend who knows all the secrets of the garden, and will reveal them to a select few. She hides bugs, and bird nests. She protects children from colds winds and makes safe corners.<\/p>\n

The grass is long, gone into seed. It looks like a meadow wanting to be played in, waiting for someone to lie down in its green carpet. Soft yet tickling, with little bugs exploring grass and the bodies or books on it.<\/p>\n

Buttercups and daisies are sprinkled randomly, where the fairies wanted them most.<\/p>\n

When I get up, it wants to remember a little longer that I was there. It keeps the imprint I made and then slowly lets it go. So slow I almost miss it, the grass sways back up, to dance in the […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":4239,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[112,115],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\nGarden magic - Omily<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"[:nl]Betovering in de tuin[:en]Garden magic[:] - Omily\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"I walk to the far end of the garden, where the hedge meets the grass. Its branches, untouched for two years, droop down gently in a green, cascading waterfall. 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