Misty Mornings

I am a morning person. One of the most delightful surprises I encountered after moving to our house in the country was this view from my living room window. As a matter of fact, we knocked out a small window and installed a much larger one just to accommodate it and the sight of a fifty year old Magnolia.
Almost every morning there is a foggy mist that hangs over the small valley that reminds me an English moor, first introduced to me by Frances Hodgson Burnett in my favorite childhood novel, The Secret Garden. Having never been to England and actually seen a moor, I am told they (unfortunately) look nothing like this. However, what I see when I look out of my window, cup of coffee in hand, is an accurate representation of what my childhood imagination saw so many years ago-a small, open valley for Mary to see if Dickon is approaching; a forest in the distance to conceal the likes of Robin Hood, Marian and the Merry Men; with just enough romantic, foggy mist to make you wonder if Mr. Darcy could emerge at any moment….




the cover of a 1911 edition


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