walled in limestone, the garden was shaded by oaks, maples, and ash and cooled by a spring fed brook – everywhere there were flowers – assemblages of anemones, crowds of calla lilies, and knots of narcissus – but the tulips and roses outshined them all among the islands of lush bluegrass – it was like Eden – with fruit trees and vines and flagstone paths and the birds – the birds were abundant beyond description – there were warblers and oriels and finches – every kind of brightly colored songbird and hummingbirds and bees – paths ran throughout the garden and though its heart – in the very heart was a great gnarled oak – it was squat and wide with extremely large branches protruding perpendicular to the trunk – from the largest of these hung an enormous wind chime made from bronze tubing, like a pipe organ and its low mysterious tones could be heard from anywhere along the paths within the walls – occasionally, next to the paths there would be a most comfortable bench – when seated on a bench or walking on the paths, the garden was a magical place and it smelled like goodness and peace and mystery
