Write a description of an place that has some real meaning for you–the tree where you had a tire swing growing up, the dog park where you always take your dog, the oak tree where you sit when you just want to feel calm–any specific place outdoors that has had some meaning to you in your life. Include sensory details that show what the place looks and feels like–specific colors, smells, the way it feels.
As a child, I was a secret garden seeker. Always peering into tree hollows, overturning stones, and tracing my fingers across still waters. I’m not sure why, perhaps I had read too many books, or taken too much of a liking to Alice in Wonderland. But I Was always looking for a secret little world within natural spaces. I always thought it would be one turn through the forest away from discovery.
At 20, I have yet to find my rabbit hole or secret garden. But I have found my natural space that feels like a special solace that is wholly mine. During the pandemic, my family was fortunate enough to be able to partially relocate from Harlem to Hampton Bays, escaping the eerie stillness and inquietude that had blanketed my once vibrant and bustling city. I grew up going out east throughout my childhood, but had never spent more than a few weeks outside of a city environment. Amongst all the uncertainty and fear of the pandemic, I welcomed the distraction of relocation.
Lacking a license, or car, my explorations were limited to where I could be carried by my two feet. I began to spend my many empty hours walking through the local trails. Although I perhaps was not acutely aware of it, I had once again picked up my search for my own personal secret garden. My favorite place to explore swiftly became Squiretown park. It was situated above tall sand dunes, overlooking the peconic bay. It was quiet, run down, and unpopular. It had once been home to a girl scout camp that was since abandoned. Scattered across the forest there lay remnants of the camp. Small wooden buildings and structures covered in graffiti. I often thought it could be the perfect setting of a horror film or ghost story where I, the young girl in solitude, would be the perfect protagonist. I was never frightened, despite the frequency of this thought. I had a secret sense of possession over the park. I felt myself the steward of this forgotten place, in control even in the face of ghosts.
I discovered my favorite spot in the park one dewy May morning. I was not alone, as I usually was, but with my dad. We went deeper into the park than I would opt to go alone, past where the trails became almost unidentifiable. We spotted a small indentation- the suggestion of a trail that once was- snaking up into the dune. Following it upwards, we found ourselves on a small promontory overlooking the vast bay.