The garden to the ground
Iʼve learned how a summer morning in the mountains is born. I inhale its cool air with gratitude, listen to its silence with greed and smell its sweet scent with pleasure. I am thrilled about the adventures to come and your world to explore.
***
I enter a beautiful garden in a backyard of an old mansion. Summer is in full swing, but this morning the air is not sticky-hot.
Century-old trees around me are all different, brought from distant lands and carefully planted by a skilled gardener. The singing of birds that have found shelter in the treetops and the sounds of water from the fountain create a unique symphony. Morning sunlight complements the atmosphere I’m keeping in memory even years later. A special place when I want my breakfast to be fancy.
Before coming here I went for a run along my favorite route by the sea and now feeling a bit tired. But a cup of coffee with a touch of lavender will do the trick. I ask for it to be served with my favorite breakfast. In a deep pretty plate syrniki are drowning in a vibrant berry bouquet mixed with a yummy coconut topping. There’s only one thing can tear me away from immersion.
I look at the sky and think about other world. I saw how this day was born from the sea, so I wonder what it was like in the mountains. Did they meet the sun? Or was it hiding in the clouds? What did the birds sing about? How did the flowers and herbs smell? Was there a river making noise nearby? I have dozens of questions, but have no answers… cuz I’ve never witnessed a morning to be born in a mountains before.
Despite of beeing fancy this place doesn’t feel to be in a center of big city. My city. I’d bet it has kinda force field that shields it from the noise and crowds, from worries and time itself. But I would be wrong. One summer morning something ugly made by humans will hit the estate and level the garden to the ground. One precious life will be taken. And something else will die.