For the first 11 years of my life, I lived in the tiny town of Gillett, Wisconsin a few houses down from the big “clock church.” Behind our house was a massive lawn, where a snowmobile/ATV trail ran through. 

As a child, however, I only thought of it as the trail that led to Grandma’s house. I was not allowed to venture there myself. Yet, on more than one occasion, my mom would receive a call from my grandma telling her that I had shown up on her back porch without warning. 

I just couldn’t help myself; to me, my grandma’s garden was the most magical place on Earth. 

I was always in awe of how much work my grandparents had put into their own little Garden of Eden. It was filled with a hundred different types of flowers and bushes, with separate gardens for fruits, vegetables and herbs as well. 

Some unique elements of that whimsical world included a fairy garden that I was in charge of assembling every summer and a row of beehives that my grandparents would harvest honey from. Even her tool shed seemed magical, which she had let my brother and I help paint in rainbow stripes. 

One of my favorite features of the garden was a gorgeous pond with a wooden bridge crossing over it. When I was about six years old, I won a goldfish from the Gillett fair, named him Nemo and decided he must live in that pond. I always made sure to say hello to him each time I came over. 

As far as I know, he’s still there. Perhaps those waters are truly sacred and mystical, like the spring of immortality in “Tuck Everlasting.” 

The garden alone provided hours of entertainment for me. There were so many reading spots! For example, the pergola provided just enough shade, yet still was overgrown with flowers and vines wrapping around it. 

Or, a particular tree with a sturdy branch that curved to the shape of my back, almost as if it was made just for me. 

I remember the picnics I used to have with my brother and grandma in the middle of the garden. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter whenever I was there; colors looked more vibrant, the birds sang more cheerfully and even bees didn’t feel like a threat. 

Any moment spent in that place was pure joy and tranquility. Even as I grew into a sulky teenager, I could almost feel all of my worries and negative thoughts disappear the minute I stepped foot into that everblooming paradise.

Ever since I was young, my grandma always talked about her dream of living in the country. She had created a gorgeous place to live in town, but she longed for more open spaces. 

I never believed that it would actually happen one day. I had always thought, ‘how could she ever leave something that she had worked so hard on for so long?’ Yet, the day finally arrived and her dream came true. 

A couple of years ago, my grandparents moved to a small farm about 10 minutes outside of town. They restored the farmhouse beautifully, which had not been lived in for many years. My grandma calls it the “doo-little farm,” as they now have a variety of animals. 

I am so happy for her and the new life she has built for herself, although I will forever miss my long walks through that ethereal garden. I am not very religious at the moment, but when I imagine the possibility of heaven, that is always where my mind wanders. 

Now I can only visit that place through pictures and my own childhood memories, but I am grateful for the sense of wonder and fantasy it gave me that I still carry today. 

Matczak can be reached at [email protected].