The Garden
She glanced around her garden with a pleased smile: At the Northernmost point of the circle stood a three tiered series of rectangular troughs that held earth from the three places she considered home. The lowermost held the rich black earth of her birth place, the next highest held dusty sand from the desert she'd found herself in when she married and the third held beach sand from the west coast where her mother had put down her roots and her son had been raised.
To the East a wind chime hung from its supportive pole making soft music in the light breeze, it was made from bits of wood that had special significance to her, all the lashings were made from the fronds of the willow tree that grew outside her window as a child, the chimes themselves were made of fallen pieces from trees that had grown up around her, the oak that she spent so many summer days perched on a branch of, the mesquite bush that grew outside their first apartment together, a length of redwood from the coast where she vacationed at her mother's house so many times.
To the South was a commercially built transportable fire pit loaded with fuel that would catch quickly but burn steadily for as long as she needed it to, this too had been altered to be more personal for her small jars of ash circled the base of the commercial pit each one labeled with a date and place it was collected.
To the West was the fountain, it had a large circular basin that held more than ten gallons of water, in the center of it was a monument created by her own hands, it held stones from lake Ontario, from the Atlantic ocean and from the local playa lakes all carefully positioned and cemented together so that the water that bubbled out of the hole at the top would have to pass down over all three kinds.
The garden pathways were made from limestone that she had collected herself from her birthplace and moved to this location, the edge of the circle held stones from the Rocky Mountains and the West Coast, limestone from the Canadian Shield and around Lake Ontario, as well as more rock from the mesas and stream beads of West Texas and New Mexico.
She'd covered it in with a glass roof and walls stretched between the main house and the out building that held her garden room, sewing room and her husband's office. It was a fully functioning garden with plots about the outer circle devoted to lettuce carrots and spinach as well as stretches of vines holding beans, peas, tomatoes and cucumbers, small sections between these larger plots held kitchen herbs like basil, lemongrass and marjoram.
But in the stretches of ground laid out inside the circle the plants were all of a magical nature, most of the herbs repeated but there were other additions as well, Mugwort, vervain and lavender among them. There were even some dangerous plants, nightshade, foxglove and belladonna to name just a few. She knew each and every plant by name, knew the sight, feel and taste of most of them.
There were some that had to be collected from the wild or in special circumstances that she kept in small quantities within her garden room, dandelions grew wild across the expanse of their back lawn, burdock she'd imported from her native land now grew wildly abundant along the back fence line and she's coaxed the local sage brush to encroach on the front lawn.
From the walls and ceiling of the glass enclosure hung pots filled with other exotic plants that were useful in her rituals, spells and potions. The main focus of her attention right now however was the large circular slab of granite in the center of her circle.
It too had come from her native land and was the largest piece of stone in her collection. A full six inches thick and five feet in diameter it could easily have served as a dining room table. Inscribed on its surface through painstaking hours of gentle tapping with a small hammer against a rock chisel she'd laid out the four cardinal directions, then added the four additional points of the compass rose. Stretched within the expanses between the points were runes and other symbols that pertained to the seasons, elements and aspects that each direction held sway over.
To protect the delicate carvings she'd placed a covering of glass over the whole that could be removed at need but kept the etchings clean and dry when she used the surface as an alter. Her mother had scoffed at her choice of a circle but she was of the opinion that an alter should have the flexibility to change direction as easily as the person performing the ritual, so the 'top' of her altar moved with the seasons always pointing toward the direction that held sway at the time of her invocation.
It had taken a life time but she'd managed to put her heart and soul into the place, it was a reflection of her inner most self. Every aspect of the garden held some small piece of her past, her present and a hole for her future. She had made it with her own two hands spending countless hours to make sure everything was perfect, everything had just the right feel to it. Lifting her glass she gave thanks to the Mother and Father for a task well done, tilting just a little of the deep red wine into the soil at her feet before she sipped herself.