It has been 3 weeks since we found the abandoned house and not a day went by that I didn't think about going back. So despite the fact that we had all just finished running another punishing half marathon race this morning and I could barely moved without eliciting an involuntary ouch, I decided to take a drive down in the late afternoon to see if I could find the house again. It didn't take me long.
Imagine my utter surprise though to find the verandah totally void of the awful landscaping. Then imagine my amazement at what I could now see.
There was a pair of matching relief murals that must have been carved and painted onto the wooden walls after the house was built. Needless to say, weather, time and creepers had altered the artwork considerably;
yet, I couldn't help noticing how resounding they now echoed with their environment.
Nothing significant really was taken away from the art, instead they had been seasoned to harmonise and perfected to blend. I stood in front of the faded vases for a long while, looking at them and then looking out at the wilderness and then back to looking at the painted foliage.
The artist must have intended this; this nurturing of his art. How clever, I thought, if that was indeed so, to be collaborating with the greatest artist of all, Mother Nature.
Soon, the shadows grew longer and the evening breeze gathered close and it felt almost like I was in a fairy house as the light of the moving leaves danced around me.
Perhaps it really is a fairy house.