The garden and cottage were in a word, idyllic. The house, two stories, was oriented so that it caught most of the sun during the day. Four rows of planter boxes full of lush green growth stood parallel, perpendicular to the house, loaded with beautiful fruits and vegetables. In the one nearest to Marian, fat strawberries were cradled in dark leaves, just begging to be picked. Around the edges, wildflowers grew tall and disorderly- foxgloves, lilies, cornflowers, poppies, bluebells, friendly pansies of many colours- and lazy bumblebees blundered about, taking their fill of pollen. The house itself had a dark thatched roof and whitewashed walls with dark, worn exposed beams, broken up by pretty diamond leadlight windows decorated with flowers. Ivy covered parts of the wall around the door, which was surrounded by herb pots and a wooden bench to enjoy the morning warmth.
The garden was hemmed in by a tall hedge on two sides. Looking back the way Marian came in was a gate in the centre created out of two tall saplings which twisted together at the top to create an arch. On each side was a woven willow fence, and the gate of the same fastened to the trees, currently standing open. Over the fence the forest could be seen, and it looked beautiful, dark, and wild. A black cat with bright yellow eyes stared at the intruder, disturbed from her sleep in a patch of sunlight on a warm stone by a rosebush.
There was a woman in the garden. The woman looked young but felt old. Golden curls were twisted up into a messy bun, and a scarf tied around her head kept the loose tendrils out of her face. She had the sort of round, open face that always looked sweet even when she was angry, blue eyes like the summer sky, and lips pink as rose petals. She had been singing as she worked, but had broken off as Marian barreled through, and looked at her in surprise.
"Oh! You're not who I was expecting," she said, her voice as lilting as any Disney princess. "But please close the gate after you."