January 16 2006

Text By Catherine Jamieson

Sinclair Lewis' Babbit fell asleep one night, after tossing and turning, and "instantly he was in the magic dream ... he slipped away, ran down the paths of a midnight garden, and at the gate the fairy child was waiting." Though we know that this is the garden and portico of a historic house on Prospect Street in Providence, RI, it could well be the secret garden at whose gate "Her dear and tranquil hand caressed his cheek".

What darkness hides and shadows obscure our imagination replenishes from a literary history rife with stories and poems that take place in such locations. Verdant, innocent and jewel-brilliant in the day when color reigns, the night brings gnomes and goblins and gremlins, faeries and elves and sprites. These are the creatures that keep us company and cast their spells when the witching hour arrives and the moonflowers bloom in the garden.