Light coming down through big pinkish-blue clouds flickered and twinkled and gleamed among branches and shrubbery like little tiny fallen stars. Enchantment and magic swirled all around me; I could see it and feel it in my skin. The whole panorama made me feel as if someone bigger that the garden; and bigger than the world itself was standing upon the world spreading out some sorts of a silvery-silken veil of light with peacefulness and sultriness and slumber upon the earth and upon my garden. So strong was the magic.
Trees whispered and swayed in the mellow breezes of early winter; as if enchanted too. The garden must have been possessed—possessed under the spell of dusk; casting wispy lights and words written in every leaf and upon the wind, making shadows and light which ultimately shattered and gave way to another night.
Do you find dusk this captivating; so enchanting that your whole being pulls you out from whatever you are doing or wherever you are just so you can be part of it?
Each evening before I close my doors to another day I go out to the garden to bit my farewells to the fading day. A farewell is necessary before we can meet again… thus; I do that every day. It’s like a ritual; a celebration that I find most enchanting. I call it “the ceremony of enchantment”.
It is the enchanted hour of the day, and I love catching its magic; memorizing it, feeling it. Late sun... like the finale in a fireworks show. It dazzles and delights and gives the garden a certain magical glow.
