Who am I? Well, what do I
like?
I like secrets and things
that are more than they seem. Invisible ink, coded messages, secret
compartments, lockets with something inside—a photo, a twist of hair. Things
that have an added meaning that is invisible to the eye—grandmother’s favorite
spoon, the watch my father gave me in high school.
Sometimes the mere
suggestion of a secret is enough—a key on a necklace suggests a treasure locked
away somewhere, even if none exists. Strange symbols hint at a cipher even if there
is no message. A beautifully-made treasure map is a reward in itself.
I like things that shine,
glitter, or sparkle. By catching the light in odd ways, they draw my eye to
them. Their appearance changes with a shift in the light or a turn of the head.
Sometimes these things
are a kind of a secret as well. Imagine yourself walking along. Suddenly light
glints from a crack in the sidewalk. Then it vanishes. You double-back, angle
your head, try to catch it again. There it is! Perhaps it is a twist of metal,
a pebble with mica, or a lost diamond.
I like gardens. Some gardens
are wonderfully practical. Root vegetables thicken in the ground, leafy greens
fill the rows, and bean vines twine overhead. Existing materials are cleverly
reused to make trellises, benches, and fencing. Winter is coming—and we are
ready for it!
Other gardens are not
about being prepared, but about creating another world. Step through the arch,
along the flagstones, and find yourself in a fairyland. There is magic here—a
sundial surrounded by flowers, roses climbing over a seat, and something
fragrant in the air. Breathe, listen, and be refreshed.
I like words. I like
words that paint a picture and words that sound a rhythm. I also like words
that take confusion and lay it out in precisely worded argument or explanation.
Most of all, I like words that tell a story and pull me into it so completely
that I forget who I am and what I was doing before the narrative took over.
I like all these things,
and more.
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