Growing up (verb phrase) - to be or become fully grown; attain mental or physical maturity
the Garden Wall is one of
the most bizarre, most brilliant, and most beautiful shows I’ve ever seen. It manages in ten short episodes to convey
more whimsy, danger, and dread than many shows do in an entire season, and the
plot, while concise, is still wonderfully written.
The story follows half-brothers Wirt and Greg
as they travel through a fantastical world trying to find their way
home. Along the way, they meet quite the
cast of interesting characters, from the elderly Woodsman to the sarcastic
bluebird Beatrice to the terrifying Beast.
There’s also a town full of pumpkin-wearing skeletons, a singing frog, a
young girl controlled by a magical bell, and an old woman who stuffs wool into
peoples’ heads to make them her servants.
And all of these characters live in the Unknown, which is almost a
character unto itself. Wirt and Greg
explore the forest, visit the mansion of a tea baron, ride a ferry full of
frogs, and spend a day in a school teaching animals how to read.
If all of that sounds ridiculous,
that’s because it is. But underneath all
the nonsense and eccentricity is the constant threat of the Beast, an ancient
creature who uses trickery and terror to lead souls from their paths, keeping
them lost until they give up and begin to transform into the Edelwood trees
that the Beast needs to stay alive. Over the Garden Wall is actually quite
like a fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm, one that may seem fun and funny on the surface, but
is actually quite dark and horrifying when you look a little closer. However, it’s when we look at these deeper
aspects that the true lessons of the show begin to appear, mainly lessons on
maturity, responsibility, and finding yourself forced to grow up in a world and
a place that you don’t understand.
@askpapaemeritusiii Castles float in the sky, crumbling walls decorated with Grucifixes. You stand upon pulsating ground, where dead trees grow. In the sky, upon the horizon is a wall of tentacles, and two bulbous eyes in a vast head stare at you like the sun and the moon.
Many, many years ago, in a house not far from here, there lived a frail old lady, who filled us all with fear. She lived alone in a big old house, in a garden overgrown, with trees and hedges growing wild, behind walls of jet black stone.
She stood no more than four foot tall; the clothes she wore, would fit a doll, with hair that nearly touched the ground, and all us kids, called her Hairy Moll. At certain times she could be seen; you could see the curtains twitch, through curtains stiff with grime and age, we could spy the wicked witch.
One time we saw her out of doors; we peered through cracks in the garden wall, as she laid flowers on a bed of rocks, we could hear her eerie, witches call. As she spoke her words, the wind did rise, and in her garden the trees did groan, whipping and lashing and blowing around; we took to our heels and scampered off home.
And then one day as we played outside, two cars pulled up at Old Molls door, they carried her out in a black body bag, and of Hairy Moll, we saw no more. People were talking at their garden walls, wondering what had become of Old Moll, and two days later at her funeral mass, she lay in a coffin, that was fit for a doll.
T’was near Halloween and the nights had grown cold, as we sat on the wall around Old Molls home, we were daring each other to enter her house, but all were afraid, so we made our way home. Then Halloween night, t’was blowing a gale, as two of us scampered o’er Hairy Moll’s wall, we entered her house through a broken back door, we stood in her parlor and started to call:
We called out her name, we were teasing the dead, and the wind, it was blowing and squalling about, we climbed the old staircase with fear in our hearts, when a voice full of rage screamed at us to GET OUT. We flew down the stairs like bats out of hell, we ran down the hallway, so dark and so black, we ran through the kitchen and into the yard, screaming and shouting, HAIRY MOLL has come back.
We scaled the stone wall, as agile as cats, we collapsed and lay panting and gasping for breath, we were sure Old Moll would follow us home, and not go away ‘til she scared us to death. Our friends,they all laughed at what we had seen, they would not believe one word that we said, but me and my friend, we will never forget, the night Hairy Moll, came back from the dead.
trees are my main form of transportation. if i need to go forward i will plant a tree into the wall behind me and she will grow out towards me, pushing me towards my destination. this is how it is this is how it has always been
Ever since I came back to Germany I have been dreaming of going back to Japan :3
I enjoyed being in Kita-Kamakura and it is one of those places I daydream of (so many places, people, smells, sounds and feelings :D
One thing I like about Japanese temples is that, while they are very well maintained, they still offer places for nature to take a hold :) Like moss growing on stones and walls and tree being given the freedom to stretch out their roots :) I like to imagine how the trees let out a relieved sigh when they broke through the wall like someone opening his belt after eating too much :D Here in Germany people would probably start getting out their chainsaw and pesticides to make things “natural” and “clean” again… I like how it makes for charming spaces that make you feel relaxed and happy :)
The temple consists of many buildings of various sizes and styles which I do like a lot :3 I don’t know this irregularity just feels very natural to me :D I mean we have an asymmetric heart, lungs, digestive system and most other parts of us are not 100% symmetrical either so why should we attempt to make everything the same It sound much nice to make things that fit aesthetically than to make a copy of something that is not yours :)
I like the colour of the wooden structures :3 Aged wood has a very nice feeling to it :)
Although Kita-Kamakura is right next to Tokyo it feels like you are being quite far away from it which is one of the reasons I enjoyed going there so much (^-^;) Don’t get me wrong I do like Tokyo but it can feel too crowded and cramped sometimes and this is when places like this are just right and make for a perfect half day vacation :)
I liked the tree in the last photo :D My first thought was “Oh, a drunk tree.” :D Its trunk has a fascinating shape and texture :o I also like how, despite of its crookedness and tattered outside appearance, it still has a beautiful, strong, green crown :3 It is only a small tree but it is my favourite tree in Kita-Kamakura :) I hope sometimes a tiny owl will sit on it :D
I wish everyone a great Sunday and sweet dreams of places and trees you like (^-^)/