My Secret Garden



Would you like to know what my garden is like? Before I tell you, why don’t you stop and close your eyes and picture in your mind’s eye what you think my garden looks like? That’s right, conjure up the image that forms when you think of me and what my garden might be like. Take your time, move around it and ensure you have given it due consideration as you generate the image. Have you done it? Did it take you long? I suspect you managed to envisage it rather quickly didn’t you, after all, you are well-known for your amazing imagination aren’t you? I often find I have to apologise for your fantastic tales and over the top comments, but that is to be expected of somebody like you. Anyway, let’s leave your behaviour to one side for the time being (although I will return to it when nobody is looking, you can be assured of that) and let’s consider what you created in your mind.

I should imagine that the landscape you have formulated is one of two outcomes. I expect that some of you will have pictured nothing but concrete. All plant life and flora banished by a solid slab of grey cement that has solidified into an impenetrable barrier that stretches in all directions, lifeless and uninspiring. Once there might have been a flourishing and verdant garden but it has been banished by this concrete covering which has extinguished anything that grew or blossomed. If the concrete carbuncle is not what you saw in your mind then you will have opted for the alternative.

You will have pictured solid, barren and lifeless soil which will not sustain anything of beauty. A toxic and poisonous stream flows through the centre of it, dead fish floating on their backs as they drift lifelessly along. Not even algae grows on this polluted stream. The few trees there are in this garden are dead. The bark grey and lifeless, forlorn limbs stretching into a dark grey sky, where there is always cloud. The branches and twigs are leafless. The bushes consist of brambles which hinder anybody who might try and move through this uninviting place. There is no grass and there a few brown, dried-out husks which suggest there might have once been something greener and vibrant. There are no sweet smelling flowers here, only the awful stench which rises from the slow-moving stream which looks more like treacle than water. Even the weeds are few and far between, struggling to find any sustenance from the sterile soil.

Is this what you saw?

Come and follow me as I take you into my secret garden. I produce a key from my jacket explaining that very few people ever get to see my secret garden but I am letting you inside because you are special and I like you. I open the thick gate and usher you inside. You do not see me hurriedly lock it behind you since you are busy staring at the beautiful garden that rolls out before you. Capability Brown must have laboured long and hard here. The lawn is flat and even, the grass has been rolled so that stripes have formed and there is not one blemish to be seen amidst the green, green blades. The edges of the lawn have been carefully cut so that no grass overhangs so that there is a distinct line between the lawn and the flower beds.

The soil looks fertile, well-nourished and is free of weeds. A dazzling array of flowers grow from this well-tilled soil. Strong stalks reach up towards the azure sky, shiny leaves sprouting from the stalks before the injection of colour appears. Every shade of the rainbow is represented amongst the many varieties of flower that flourish in my secret garden. Brilliant blues, fiery oranges, ruby reds and sunshine yellows abound. The flowers have short petals, long petals which move in the gentle breeze, there are bell-shaped flowers, trumpet shaped flowers and others shaped like stars. White, purple, scarlet and ochre all combine to create this tapestry of beauty. A stream gurgles as it passes through the garden, cutting across the magnificently manicured lawn, so that an intricate bridge has been created allowing one to traverse from one side to the other. Bushes ring the flowers, an expert in topiary having crafted them into sensational shapes. Beyond the bushes are the trees, tall and trimmed so that they form a fence around this paradise. You stand on the edge of this magnificent garden utterly transfixed. The scents waft from the roses, from the lilies and the sweet William combining to create a heady concoction of fragrances. You are over awed by this display.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

You are dumb-founded, unable to speak. All you can muster is a slow nod as you feel a tear trickle down your cheek from your left eye as you are overtaken by how beautiful it all is.

I beckon to you and you follow me to a nearby apple tree which is festooned with fruit. The red and green apples hang from the branches and I pluck one and pass it to you. You smile and take a bite anticipating how fresh and crisp the apple will be. Your teeth easily sink in as you are surprised to find the flesh of the apple soft. You taste bitterness in your mouth and instinctively spit out the piece of fruit.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I select an apple too.

“It is sour,” you explain. I take a bite from my apple and you hear the crunch as I take a chunk from it. I chew and through the mouthful explain that mine tastes fine. I hand the apple to you and you bite into it. It is soft and again tastes sour. Confusion rises inside you as you look at the apple and see a maggot wriggling beneath where you have bitten into the apple. You hurl the apple away as I invite you to sniff a magnificent rose nearby. You lean in and inhale its perfume, pulling the petalled head towards you. There is no scent and instead you sneeze.

As you let go of the rose you give a short cry of pain and find that a thorn is wedged in your finger, the blood already spooring from the wound and trickling down your finger. You sneeze again,your nose irritated by something and you keep sneezing as your eyes water. You stagger away from the rose still sneezing and into a bush but it is not the sculpted creation you saw moments earlier.

Instead, you feel a prickling sensation as you are stung and realise you have stumbled into a bed of nettles. Pain rising you stagger away, eyes streaming and make for where you recall the stream is hoping to use the cool, clear water to wash away the irritation you have suffered.

You can just make out where it is through your blurred vision as you drop to your knees only to cry out again. You have knelt on some thistles.Where did they come from? This lawn was flawless before. You reach out flailing for the stream but there is nothing, The water has gone and the stream has dried up. You feel something wrap around your left wrist and as you try to wipe away the tears from your eyes with your free hand, you feel pain as a vine begins to tighten about your wrist. You pull trying to free yourself from it and twist around to call to me for help.

The smooth lawn is no longer there. Gone is the rolled grass. Instead you are looking at a mountainside, rugged and steep. You yank your arm as the vine is trying to pull you and look upwards. You can see me standing there smiling at you, looking down from my lofty position atop this mountain which has sprung out of nowhere. A cold wind begins to blow as you shout for help, another vine beginning to snake towards you. I tilt my head as if I cannot hear you, a smile still plastered across my face.

“Help me, what is happening?” you shout.

“Nothing,” I call back, ” I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“This. The garden, it has changed,” you yell above the gathering wind. You see that I am shaking my head.

” Not it’s not, everything is just the same, Beautiful isn’t it?” I reply.

You frown. How can I not see what has altered? The beautiful glade has become a hostile and hurtful place. How has this happened to you?

You try and crawl forward and I stand watching you, offering no help as more vines snake towards you, the ground beneath you hard and stony. The vines wrap about you and threaten to pull you into the abyss below you. All the while I stand and watch smiling.

Welcome to my secret garden.

20 thoughts on “My Secret Garden

  1. Asp Emp says:

    Mondays appear to be the day of the week my garden attracts balls…..number 7 appeared today (laughing)……finders keepers 😉

    brings a new meaning to moon days (laughing)….

    I’ll be able to construct a unique Xmas Tree at this rate (LOL)….

    1. Asp Emp says:

      Balls 10 and 11 ‘appeared’ last week….I have enough to make a mini tree now (grinning).

  2. Joa says:

    “I’m the same all the time” – I’ve heard it many times.

    He drawled these words with some such calm and delicate a sense of… victory (?)

  3. lickemtomorrow says:

    Do your secret garden have any Scarlet Carson’s?

    1. lickemtomorrow says:

      Oops! I mean ‘does’ your secret garden have any Scarlet Carson’s?

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        And just to make up for that faux pas on your illustrious site:

        1. Asp Emp says:

          LET, I loved that film when I watched it years ago – I cried at the ending……thank you for sharing the clip. Bad Girl indeed 😉

          1. lickemtomorrow says:

            AspEmp, I saw that movie for the first time while HG was away. I watched it 4 times in a week! Basically, I couldn’t get enough of it, and that was partly the exquisite monologues and explanations, but there was also so much emotion involved. I’m not surprised you cried at the ending … and yet with Evey’s help, V’s ending was nothing but spectacular <3 I take comfort in that x

            This movie (I wasn't aware it was originally a graphic novel or comic book) involved one of the greatest coincidences of my life.

            I happened across a YT video which made mention of the movie and decided to look it up. After reading a little about it, I decided to watch it. I had just begun streaming it, so it was on the opening scene and monologue, when my son walked through the door. I paused the movie, he saw what was on the screen and asked "Is that Guy Fawkes?" I said yes, a little surprised because I'm wondering how he could even know that from a still shot (he hadn't seen the movie either). The mask hadn't appeared on the screen at that point, just the image of Guy Fawkes preparing his nefarious deed, and I'd always known the mask as the "Anonymous" mask, never having associated it with Guy Fawkes.

            Anyway, my son had come in just after having another tattoo completed, so that was the timing of this whole event, and I had no idea what he'd gotten done – sometimes I don't want to know. Incredibly, he lifted his clothes to show a tattoo of the Guy Fawkes mask!

            You honestly can't make this stuff up. How on earth did those two completely random things come together? I never knew it was a Guy Fawkes mask, I put the movie on to watch which related to a Guy Fawkes mask, and then my son turns up just having a tattoo done of a Guy Fawkes mask!

            I was honestly in disbelief at the coincidental nature of that event. I'm still in disbelief. V would say "There are no coincidences, only the illusion of coincidences", and also "I, like God, do not play with dice and I don't believe in coincidences."

            He reminds me so much of HG. I wonder if V is a narcissist?

            Ah, AspEmp, once again, not surprised you loved it when you watched it.

            I probably should have just put myself in the dungeon for my faux pas, but I couldn't resist xox

          2. HG Tudor says:

            No, V is not a narcissist.

          3. lickemtomorrow says:

            Thank you, HG.

          4. Asp Emp says:

            I didn’t think he was, HG.

          5. Asp Emp says:

            LET, 4 times?! One week? Wow. Yes, the opening scenes gave the impression of the historical story of Guy Fawkes / Gunpowder Plot. That is eerily coincidental that your son gets the tattoo of the mask when you happen to be watching the film.

            I’ve bookmarked the film so I can watch it again when there’s nothing else on tv as it usually happens over xmas / new year.

            Yes, it reminded me of HG and his work – hence commenting about it on another article.

            I don’t think anyone is going to be sent to the dungeon, not this time 😉

          6. lickemtomorrow says:


            AspEmp, I don’t think I saw your comment on another article. Can you remember which one it was?

          7. Asp Emp says:

            LET, yes, I do 🙂

            BTW, you may also enjoy ‘The Croods’ (2013), it could be considered an ‘escape’ from reality. I liked the characters – gran, baby and Belt, they made me laugh out loud. An example is where ‘Grug’ says ‘heads’ in relation to gran (LOL).

            BTW, I hope your son is doing ok (I read about his relationship ending?). He may like the book ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy’, I found it an ‘escape’ but it was hilarious, it had me crying with laughter.

    2. HG Tudor says:

      No, because there is no such rose.

      It does have Violet Carsons, which amuses me.

      1. Asp Emp says:


      2. lickemtomorrow says:

        You are right, Violet Carsons are the original variety, and I could see you being amused.

        If ever a movie was representative of how I picture you (and yes, the mask has a lot to do with it, but the detail is representative, too) this is the one.

        Vendetta indeed.

        1. HG Tudor says:

          I can understand the representation, they are aspects of V which are applicable to me, but not all of them.

          1. lickemtomorrow says:

            I couldn’t help but think of you while I was watching the movie and saw a number of correlations to your story, the ‘vendetta’ being one. V also had a ‘shadow gallery’, and I imagined it a little like your gallery of IPPS’s. He wore a mask, and he broke Evey in order to manipulate her to his way of thinking. The fire, the rain, the implication of a garden. The coldness or detachment of his killing in order to have his revenge.

            One of my favourite interactions from the movie:

            “Are you going to kill me?” asks the doctor.

            “I killed you ten minutes ago” V says as he holds up a syringe.

            Sounds terrible to say, but thanks to the Knowing HG series I imagine you this way in my mind’s eye.

            V was on a mission. He never let anything get in his way. His rage enabled him to do that.

            He did appear to be sentimental, so that may be one aspect not applicable to you. You may well have left Evey outside the elevator to her fate!

            That’s a lot of ‘blah, blah, blah’ about the movie, romanticizing some things which perhaps should not be romanticized depending on your point of view, but it captured my imagination big time. So many things V said, and with his very proper British accent, I could imagine you saying:

            “Beneath this mask …”

  4. Asp Emp says:

    One of my favourite articles, HG.

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