I have this dream about buying bushel after bushel of lavender and creating an entire fort made of flowers. As a child my mother cultivated a small parcel of sunflowers on the lower level of our backyard to make us kiddos such a getaway. The idea has lingered with me ever since. Perhaps you never outgrow such beautiful notions. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time with the Anne Shirleys and Jo Marchs of the literary world.
In lieu of my lavender-built fort, there is this other place that I know. It’s surrounded on two sides with wooden fencing covered in vines. On the third side sits a gate that leads to a poppy-covered alley. And the fourth side opens up to a stone-covered path that takes you out to the world. This divine little place is my patio.
During the day, dedicated bees visit the surrounding flowers. Their buzzing mixes into the soundtrack of the birds, passing motorists, a grandmother helping her little toddler granddaughter into the car for a summer outing.
As night falls, it’s the perfect setting for discussions on life that continue well past the twilight. It carries its own character with little need for embellishment. And yet offers a perfect, modest canvas to fill with tales from great literature and notes of narration. Music dances into the leaves of a little tree that appears to float, unbound above you.
This magical place invites you to eat good meals, grill up some brats, drink a glass of wine. It wants for nothing but sweet friends. Or if you prefer, a welcoming table for one to enjoy in comfortable silence.
I once read this blog post in which the author spoke about “pockets” she had memorialized for herself all around a big, new city. (I would link to said post, but she has since taken a hiatus from her blog. She wrote a book though.) Places where something personal, moving and particular happened that she wanted to preserve in her memory for herself and family. Maybe it was something as simple as the fast food restaurant where she shared a diet Coke with her husband when they were newly married and pinching pennies. Or the street corner where she successfully quieted her infant son despite all the chaotic city noise surrounding her. I love this idea of preserving the pockets of your life. This patio is one such pocket for me. Next time you’re in town, I’d love to share it with you as well. I’ll make some french toast and we’ll bask in the sun. All I ask is that you bring along an armful of lavender so we can get rolling on that fort.
SIGNED, anya elise