Benched Week 76: secret spaces

Growing up, I had a number of places I could go to be alone – special spots to call all my own: a semi-hidden crawl space in the wall of my bedroom.  A tree house.  A row of neighborhood forsythias, under the arching branches of which I buried a tin of treasures.  And an abandoned stone mansion next door.

I’m sure you had your own special spots, too.

The memories of my secret spaces came back to me as I walked a path in an arboretum (read: a patch of scruffy woods) near Princeton, N.J., and came across a brooding, neglected house with a single, soulless eye of a window on its weathered face.



Nearby, a shed held another surprise.



Clearly, these buildings attract the curious.  And, judging by the contents of the tub, they draw those serendipitously carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels.   Such obvious reasons aside, I wondered what it was that cause us to seek out (or create, as with blanket forts) corners of concealment.  Was it the thrill of being the sole owner of the knowledge of such a place?

How I wished there were a bench nearby to ponder this.

That bench turned out to be in a pleasant park on the way back to the hotel. 

By the time I found it, the sunlight was in its golden hour.  I sat and took some shots of a red-winged blackbird perched on rustling reeds.



A young dad came by, strolling with his daughter.  We greeted each other then he pointed out to her the Canada geese on the pond with a line of goslings between them.  We stood to watch them.


And I realized that a moment in time can be a secret space, as well.  To “own” the knowledge of the uniqueness of the situation – the play of light on the water, the breeze, the effortless gliding of the geese, the cuteness of the goslings – it feels like a treasured thing.  A clandestine gift.

But it’s a gift to be shared.  A moment like that can be a burdensome pleasure: we want to pull someone else in to enjoy it with us.  There is a longing to have others join us in the space.  Not "Keep Out!" but "Come in!"  Check out my treehouse.  Crawl under here with me.  Look what I found! 

Look what I found.  That’s the spirit of this blog, I think.  I find little, secret places – surprising moments – and invite you to share them with me.  I'm glad to have the company.

So tell me: what was your secret space growing up?