My Secret Garden

It's not quite a garden I have to admit. It's more like an empty field with large, old trees in it that have grown so high they dwarf the public housing flats in the distance. It is my secret place only because I seem to be the only person who uses it. In land scarce Singapore, it is inevitable that this piece of land will soon suffer the fate of being dug up and concrete poured over the living earth. Indeed I think it has already been tendered out and sold but the developer has not yet taken possession of it or the sale is not yet complete.

In the meantime, in this pocket of time and space though, I roam freely in it, sitting long under the tall trees, or walking by the canal watching the little egret and the great egret fish. Sometimes I see a kingfisher flash past if I go early in the morning. I am almost always alone, save my dogs, although people are near enough as there is housing surrounding the field and a train station on the edge of it. This morning I saw an oriole flash past in siren yellow and black as I jogged gently towards my empty space.

I often wish I lived on a farm or in some village when I come here so I could have the same sense of space, and that sense of eternity that comes with it. It reminds me of the times I spent rambling in the hills of Yorkshire and the Lake District, or lolling in the gardens of Oxford colleges. In such moments, communing with God becomes easy and the heart stills no matter what the heartache and the busy-ness of working life falls away.