Little Things : Secret Doors

As I think I might have mentioned I have a little obsession with old doors. There's something about them I love. They're mysterious and inviting and I like to photograph them.

Discreetly mossy

Sometimes I wonder if it all goes back to a childhood love of Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden. I loved that book and the idea of a hidden walled garden seemed so romantic. Even now I love walled gardens. But what really hits me about the story is the idea of searching for the door and the joy and excitement of finding it. How Mary's hand must have trembled as she put in the key, wondering what was going to happen when she turned it.

Doors are in many ways symbolic of beginnings, opportunities, chances we can take or refuse. Perhaps my love of them - the old and gnarled, seemingly forgotten, beautiful and strange - stems from the desire to explore, to step into the unknown, to voyage in my imagination. 

So here they are, doors I photographed in the lovely town of Chateau Gironde where I had the exceptional good look to spend a few hours wiht my friend Estelle. Our dear husbands watched the kids and we enjoyed great conversation and the magical ambience of a medieval French town on a sunny Sunday afternoon. What more can a girl poet ask for? And is it any wonder they inspired poetry? Well here's the sketch I'm working on...

All the Old doors

Unopened, keys long lost

like forgotten letters,

stand there watching;

silent and patient.

Locks and barrels,

hinges and latches,

orange tinged and tinted;

rusty and dry with age,

stiff as arthritic limbs

they are still waiting.

No one remembers

what they were for,

where they used to lead to,

all the places they could take you

if you knew where to go.

And this door here -

it’s dark blue faded pale,

it’s paneling cracked,

bare wood peeking through,

this door could be the one.

This door could be your future

if you put in the key,

turn the handle and see.