Although we didn’t manage to eat all the chard we grew, I’m now glad we didn’t. What I once saw as an overabundance of leafy greens, waiting to be harvested and cooked, has revealed something far more enchanting. Today, I lowered my perspective as close to the earth as I could get, and what unfolded before me was nothing short of magic: a miniature chard forest, painted in pinks and greens, shimmering beneath the autumn light.

From that angle, the stems rose like sturdy tree trunks, their vibrant magenta veins illuminated like veins of precious stone. The broad leaves above created a delicate canopy, a world hidden beneath the very surface I had walked past a hundred times. Sunlight filtered through in soft golden beams, weaving through the spaces, casting a spell on the scene.

It exists—a chard fairy forest, alive with its own quiet magic. You just have to know where to look. Here, in this unexpected pocket of wonder, the garden holds a secret world, full of color and life, waiting for those willing to pause and notice.