The Magic Garden
By Shane Alexander Greenhough
Copyright 2012 Shane Alexander Greenhough
The flash and flitter of tiny wings glitters amongst the leaves in the garden out back. I watch from the kitchen window as they dance among the green, my face straining with a wide grin that cuts from cheek to cheek.
Three inches tall and as bare as birth, they flit from branch to branch, leaf to leaf, singing in a chorus of squeaking cheers as one then the other taunts the feathered regulars feasting on the days entrée of stale breadcrumbs and last night’s leftovers.
This is my magic garden.
The kettle, steam rising from its spout, clicks off next to me, barely noticed. Two mugs wait with endless patience on the counter in front of me, untouched. I’m enraptured, in awe of the tiny denizens of my enchanted woodland.
It’s not much of a woodland, I’ll be the first to admit. Half an acre of mown lawn fringed by manicured shrubs and the occasional small ash. In one corner a stumpy jacaranda sporadically shakes off showers of lilac petals as miniature dragon-winged people dart in and out of its broad boughs.
“Distracted again, Will?” asks a voice at my back, followed by a tinkling laugh.
“Ah hell,” I look down at the empty mugs on the kitchen counter in front of me, “your tea.”