Dreamer's Garden

Are you longing for an adventure? Let me invite you to my town. Come tonight. Come when it is dark. There is a neighborhood garden. It is downtown, on the corner, just a block away. It’s never far. You are welcome there too. It’s not just for me. It is a little tricky to find but trust me, I know it is there. Years ago, my son named the garden and worked hard to have the city provide it with a brick wall and a beautiful iron gate. The garden is where dreamers meet and because of that my son named the garden Dreamer’s Garden. There were mornings when we enjoyed having breakfast there, some coffee, some croissants, nothing too complicated. When we had breakfast in Dreamers’ Garden, we would sit toward the front, close to the large iron gate. The gate was usually locked but with the right code visitors could enter easily. We were there to rest, to talk, to laugh and share food.

During the daytime Dreamer’s Garden is a meeting place. It is a place for folks to gather, to enjoy being outside, to enjoy being in a garden. There is a small wooden stage, really it is nothing more than a wooden platform, but it is where children dance, parents clap, singers sing, poets read, and drummers drum. The stage is always ready. You are welcome here too but come at night. Night is when the garden is alive. It is when the plants grow. If you come, you will see. From dusk to dawn wonderful things happen there, because plants will not grow if they are being watched. But there is more. So much more. There’s a colorful shed in Dreamers’ Garden, it’s where the tools are kept. Everything you will need is inside. Open the door! Will you dig and plant? Will you weed and hoe? Come tonight. There’s work to be done.

“I will come back tonight but first I have some questions. What happens in the garden if it doesn’t rain?” Oh. That is very serious. Plants need rainwater. We have hoses and we have watering cans but that is not enough. Plants want rainwater. “Is rainwater different from hose water?” Definitely different. Rainwater is untouched by human hands. “Is that better?” Infinitely better. “Are there snakes in the garden?” Yes. “Are there spiders in the garden?” Yes. “Are there mice in the garden?” Yes. “Does fruit grow in the garden?” Yes. “Do veggies grow in the garden?” Yes. “Are there herbs in the garden?” Yes. “Who weeds the garden?” We do. “Who waters the garden?” We do. “Who loves the garden?” We do. “You love the garden. Why? I want to know why you love a garden that takes more work than it gives back. Why do you love Dreamer’s Garden?”

If you are ready to listen, I will tell you. I am an old lady now but one night years ago, I was digging in the garden and my trowel hit something hard. A stone? A brick? I dug deeper. I found a quarter note. It was gold and about eight inches long. I knew it was a quarter note because of taking piano lessons years ago. There are four to a measure in 4/4 time. It’s a circle with a staff and a flag; I’d recognize it anywhere. “What did you do?” I buried it. “What! You just said it was made of gold.” We do things like that here. Rumor has it that there are golden notes scattered throughout the garden just waiting to be played. Music happens in the garden at night. Come tonight, if you listen, …you’ll hear it,

That night I went to the garden. I got there just as the sun was starting to set. A gentle darkness was taking hold. The gate was unlocked. I slowly went inside. Everything was quiet and damp. It had rained in the afternoon and drops of water rested on the plants. I saw the shed and I knew that I really should have a gardening tool, so I walked past the rows of seedlings and made my way to the tool shed hoping that it wasn’t locked. As I approached the shed, I heard a woman’s voice. It was the same voice that had encouraged me to visit the garden and to come back at night. The voice sounded like it was coming from inside the tool shed. I slowly opened the door wanting to understand why I had returned and why I was listening to a voice that now had no form. I spoke softly but clearly, “I want to find the golden music notes. The ones you told me about this morning. I came back and I am ready to dig.” Silence. I grabbed a trowel and walked away from the shed. I began digging in an area of soft dirt next to one of the flower beds. I was on my hands and knees and determined to dig. I was determined to find gold notes and to hear the music.

Although it was now very dark, and very cool, I was sweating. I looked up. A woman was standing next to me, the same woman who had spoken with me in the morning but now she looked different. She wasn’t an old lady anymore. She looked young and pretty. She smiled. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Can’t you see? I am digging. I am digging in the soil because, I was here this morning, and a woman told me that if I came to Dreamer’s Garden at night, I would find music notes made of gold and hear music. I am digging with a purpose.” She started to laugh.

When she laughed the music began. At first, it was low and soft. It started where the soil had newly planted seeds, and then it got louder and louder. Gold notes began to rise up out of the dirt. They swirled and danced glowing in the dark. The garden was filled with music and the plants began to grow. They grew rapidly as if they were dancing to the sound that now filled the garden. In Dreamers Garden the plants don’t grow slowly. They burst to life when the music begins. The Garden was alive just like the woman had said. It was filled with music and golden notes were swirling in the darkness. Then it stopped. As quickly as it started the music stopped and the notes were gone. The woman was walking away. “Hey wait, don’t go, don’t I know you? Haven’t we met before?” She opened the gate and left.