Last weekend as the shadows lengthened in the late afternoon, I saw the remains of this brick walled garden on the grounds of the Township of Ocean's Historical Museum. It was off to the side of the more famous, ornate water tower at that site. The garden must have been magnificent at one time, full of fragrant, rare blossoms. Now it is only a sad ruin. I'm sure if I return in the summertime, I would find a profusion of weeds, but no roses--or any other delicate prized blooms. Unless someone takes a fancy to the garden, it will never be returned to its former glory for it would cost far too much.
And yet, it’s delightful to imagine sitting on a bench inside the sturdy wall surrounded by the scent of sweet flowers and the steady hum of bees busy at their tasks. I believe this is why I enjoy historical romances so much. It’s delightful to go back in time and see things in their former glory. I cannot fix the garden, but I can envision it as it was in my mind.
Close your eyes and picture it with me. Perhaps we’ll have some tea in fine china cups and a few scones, too. Imagination is wonderful.
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