Sunday, 24 April 2011
Did you ever visit a magic house as a child? You know the type, a huge old house surrounded by a lush rambling garden. A garden with lots of green rooms, where you could play for hours and never see the house, even though you were only a few steps away from the back door.
And when you stepped inside the house, and your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you saw impossibly high ceilings, ridiculously long hallways and far too many rooms to seem plausible. A house full of laughing children and good food and happy times. A magic house.
We have friends living in a house just like that. Lucky for us. This morning, a perfectly warm and sunny day, we went to the magic house for an Easter egg hunt. The eggs were hidden high up in willow trees, under the agapanthas, throughout the apple orchard and among the keys of the piano wreck. And some were hidden in fairy town. A whole street of magic houses. Naturally, so perfectly a normal sight to see. At the magic house.