My fascination for England began when I was 10, and I read Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel, The Secret Garden.
I loved this book!
The main character, Mary, is sent to live with her uncle after her parents die. At first, she is sickly and hates her new home. Then, she hears stories from the housekeeper about a hidden key to the estate’s garden. By “chance,” her pet robin digs up the key. Mary and the housekeeper’s younger brother, Dickon, begin to tend the garden. As they work and play outside, she feels happier and stronger. At the same time, Mary discovers another little boy living in the house, and she learns that he is her cousin, Colin. Because he is in a wheelchair, and she wants him to feel stronger, she takes him to the garden. Gradually, he begins to feel better, until ultimately he walks again.
I loved this book for all the reasons any kid would. The main characters are children who find secret places and other secret children. And the setting is a magical, healing garden. Enchanting!
My family had a big garden when I was growing up. I’d pick vegetables, dust the dirt off, and sit in my hammock munching on sugar snap peas or kohlrabi. As an adult, I grew tomatoes, basil, and cucumbers in my backyard while we lived in North Carolina. In every city apartment, I have decorated with house plants. And in our flat at DunckerStrasse 8, Berlin, I lined my balconies with lavender, rosemary, wild roses, and cosmos which I bought from my favorite garden store, Frau Rose.
It is always soothing to grow things. Every time I leave a place, it is not so much the interior that I miss. It’s the outdoor space–the gardens and the parks.
In London, we strolled through a park in Primrose Hill. Before coming to Europe, I imagined that all the city parks on the continent would be neatly groomed and filled with an air of elegance, like Seurat’s “Grand Jatte.” The city parks of Berlin were more rugged. In Prague, they were charming and sweet. The parks in Paris were exactly as I had dreamed, Seurat was French, after all. And the park in London, near where Sylvia Plath (and William Butler Yeats) once lived, was beautifully tailored and calm. A perfect place for a stroll or a moment to slow down and simply enjoy the view.
