“A garden, to be perfect in its appeal, should never be new; the youth that each Springtime brings to it is not the garish tidiness of the new, but the rich quickening life of the old that is always young.”

This wordvine is so idyllic, so part of past’s dreamland, its description of a garden becomes perfection outweighing the proverb’s good for the very first time. The narrator is that ‘good’ trying but failing to catch the cupid de-winged as a beautiful boy dallying with the statue’s nymph. Just as the gardener in Bill and Ben never caught Bill and Ben playing, and even missed seeing the Weed even though she stared into his face?
Books are my garden, these days, but “perhaps my faith failed.” Something I shall always fail to see, staring me in the face, even if it’s my own soul still playing?

“It is with such a feeling that we turn to the book still unread, and even to the volume whose pages have already delighted us; there must be something that till now we have missed.”


My other ALS reviews: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2022/11/08/the-ferry-of-souls-a-l-salmon/

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