I was climbing a ladder to fix something, when I gazed over at my shed and nearly fell to the ground. There is an entire magical world atop the shed that I never knew about. It was growing right on the roof. Heavy snow in the winter did not bother it. Scraping and smashing and raking ice caused no harm. There’s a small, green, and perfect world that is completely immune to the rest of the world around it, and it’s living on the top of my shed.
|A secret green world.|
It grows in furrows with hills and valleys. There are ridges reaching for the heavens and gullies with glistening golden hair waving about. Closer inspection reveals vast forests with canopies of brilliant green and lush growth. There is everywhere the suggestion of moistness and youthful exuberance. I imagine tiny towns of faeries nestled in the valleys, peacefully raising their enchanted animals. I fantasize about celebrations of the brilliant green.
The winter has taken its toll on the rest of my surroundings, and all save the magical green world on the top of my shed have suffered. In a world that is almost entirely grey right now because of the season--where the gentle white of snow is gone and the browns of fall have long since been leached--this explosion of green satisfies a hunger my eyes have had for months. And I did not know how empty my heart had become until the green came and filled it back up.