It’s a quiet early spring afternoon, behind an old house on top of the mountain. Daffodils are in full bloom, an open picnic table under the tree that rarely sees visitors; a rugged fence chewed by time frames this little peace heaven into its own world. Spring is overflowing in the air. Wind is blowing from the top of trees through the entire valley, like the whispers of the mountain. For a moment, it felt like stepping into a place being forgotten by time.
Someone said, we live in a time stolen and space rented for this life. A place like this, a moment like this just reminds us where we started, and where we meant to go.
Step out once awhile, so you can step into your secret garden, where blooming flowers dance to the whispers of the mountain.