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.