Magic.

 

I don't know its name, so I call it Magic.  Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing.  Everything is made out of Magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people.  So it must be all around us.

The Secret Garden

Frances Hodgson Burnett

I finished re-reading this book again.  Every time I finish it, I feel like I have been stolen from a magical world and have forgotten my way back in.  Perhaps I need a robin to help me find the key?  I keep trying to find more magic in my world since I cannot share the garden of Mary, Collin and Dickon.  Pretentious?  A little.  A good drive in life?  Undoubtedly.