If you walk out the double front doors of Granny’s house at High Rock, and wander left toward the thin stretch of trees guarding what once was the summer vegetable and flower garden, you will see large rocks in a group to the left of the pathway. This magic place is called the Rock Garden. Whether the rocks naturally occurred together or were placed there by artistic design as land was cleared on the farm, I can’t say—I think the former. But I do know that the Rock Garden, coupled with childhood imagination, turned the inanimate objects into a manor-without-walls.
|TV (on left)|
This was a house where you could walk among or upon the furnishings, all depending upon your whims and agility. Big enough to accommodate a family of two, my sister and me, the rock home was well appointed. The kitchen area sported a refrigerator (don’t remember a stove), the living room had a sofa, easy chair, TV (looked just like one), and piano w/bench, and the bedrooms provided each of us with a recognizable bed. (Mine was somewhat tall and slanted, but Janie’s was flat, moss covered and inviting.) There was also a somewhat vague set of bathroom accommodations.
The Rock Garden manor was all stone and fantasy, but as real as my present home is to me now (and much easier to maintain). The rock grouping is still visible not far from the house at High Rock. I can go there any time I visit, but I rarely take that pathway any more. Why would I need to be reminded, in my adult self, that the place is simply an intriguing gathering of rocks when I can visit my mansion in the wild in my childhood memory any time I choose?
Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock. Isaiah 26:4
He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. Psalm 62:6