My Secret Garden

I have a secret garden. It is filled with all manner of things; ideas and scents, colors and sensations that I didn't truly know existed. I suppose somewhere in the deeper recesses of my mind I had an inkling, but it took a special key to unlock it. I thank Brave Warrior Master Fonce for such a gift.

Mints and herbs flourish, spicing the air with tantalizing aromas, making the mouth water just with the idea of what they could accompany. Foreign tastes have been learned by my taste buds, and mixtures and pastes and oils serve purposes that range from culinary delights to medicinal wonders. And that doesn't include the visual arrangements possible when I combine them with a few blossoms from the patches at the edges.

Wildflowers and cultivated field blossoms grow vibrant and strong against the bright light and umbrellas of shade that take turns throughout the day. I had assembled rotting baskets, cracked pottery, dented and useless pots and filled them with the rich dark earth each time we made camp. Snippets of greenery, buds that held seeds and entire sprigs with roots were planted with encouraging words to 'grow and prosper.' I hadn't expected them to listen so well. I am blessed with usefulness and beauty in abundance.

There is nothing quite like fresh flowers, held aloft in a decorative hand hold of glass or pottery or even wood or steel. They give me a sense of well being, their many petalled faces smiling at me, and the paint of scent misting the air. The small bouquets that I have been giving out are now of my stock. Of my secret garden. They brighten the steps of Asria's wagon, Sev's and Oren's, and even Ubara Cana's. A double handful of the blossoms stand alertly in the depths of Master's wagon too. A stubby black square keeps them from toppling over and their nourishing water from running amuck. It was my first attempt at making something from the clay that Shel let me have. Sadly misshapen and resembling nothing like my mind's eye had seen, it made itself into a serviceable vase none the less. The color to paint it was easy.

Black. The first color that represented Master Fonce. A color that I actually missed in His wagon now. Not that I thought He was wrong - for the colorful nature clearly reflected His mood. It was just this piece that seemed lacking. The anchor for it all. And black is my most cherished anchor, for I have some pretty definite ideas about colors.

Like...red.