The garden comes alive in spring

The garden comes alive in spring is the central transformative event of The Secret Garden, marking the moment when the long-dormant walled garden, which had been sealed for ten years following the death of Lilias Craven, bursts into vibrant life under the care of Mary Lennox, Dickon Sowerby, and Colin Craven. This event is the physical and symbolic culmination of the children's efforts, directly triggering Colin's declaration that he will live forever and serving as the catalyst for the emotional and physical healing of all three protagonists.

The Arrival of Spring

After a week of rain, the high arch of blue sky appeared again and the sun poured down quite hot. Mary wakened very early on that first morning when the sky was blue again, and the sun was pouring in slanting rays through the blinds. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, drawing up the blinds and opening the window itself, letting in a great waft of fresh, scented air. The moor was blue and the whole world looked as if something Magic had happened to it. There were tender little fluting sounds here and there and everywhere, as if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for a concert. Mary put her hand out of the window and held it in the sun, saying, "It's warm—warm! It will make the green points push up and up and up, and it will make the bulbs and roots work and struggle with all their might under the earth." She dressed herself in five minutes, knowing a small side door she could unbolt herself, and flew downstairs in her stocking feet, putting on her shoes in the hall. She unchained and unbolted and unlocked, and when the door was open she sprang across the step with one bound, standing on the grass which seemed to have turned green, with the sun pouring down on her and warm sweet wafts about her and the fluting and twittering and singing coming from every bush and tree. She clasped her hands for pure joy and looked up in the sky, which was so blue and pink and pearly and white and flooded with springtime light that she felt as if she must flute and sing aloud herself.

The Garden Transformed

When Mary reached the place where the door hid itself under the ivy, she was startled by a curious loud sound—the caw—caw of a crow from the top of the wall. A big glossy-plumaged blue-black bird looked down at her very wisely. When she got fairly into the garden, she saw that he had alighted on a dwarf apple-tree, and under the apple-tree was lying a little reddish animal with a bushy tail, and both of them were watching the stooping body and rust-red head of Dickon, who was kneeling on the grass working hard. Mary flew across the grass to him, crying out, "Oh, Dickon! Dickon! How could you get here so early! How could you! The sun has only just got up!" Dickon got up himself, laughing and glowing, and tousled, his eyes like a bit of the sky. He said, "Eh! I was up long before him. How could I have stayed abed! Th' world's all fair begun again this mornin', it has. An' it's workin' an' hummin' an' scratchin' an' pipin' an' nest-buildin' an' breathin' out scents, till you've got to be out on it 'stead o' lyin' on your back. When th' sun did jump up, th' moor went mad for joy, an' I was in the midst of th' heather, an' I run like mad myself, shoutin' an' singin'. An' I come straight here. I couldn't have stayed away. Why, th' garden was lyin' here waitin'!" Mary put her hands on her chest, panting, as if she had been running herself, and said, "Oh, Dickon! Dickon! I'm so happy I can scarcely breathe!" The little fox cub, named Captain, rose from its place under the tree and came to Dickon, and the rook, Soot, cawing once, flew down from its branch and settled quietly on his shoulder. Dickon explained, "This is th' little fox cub. It's named Captain. An' this here's Soot. Soot he flew across th' moor with me an' Captain he run same as if th' hounds had been after him. They both felt same as I did." Neither of the creatures looked as if he were the least afraid of Mary. Dickon threw himself upon his knees and Mary went down beside him. They had come upon a whole clump of crocuses burst into purple and orange and gold. Mary bent her face down and kissed and kissed them. She said, "You never kiss a person in that way. Flowers are so different." Dickon looked puzzled but smiled, saying, "Eh! I've kissed mother many a time that way when I come in from th' moor after a day's roamin' an' she stood there at th' door in th' sun, lookin' so glad an' comfortable." They ran from one part of the garden to another and found so many wonders that they were obliged to remind themselves that they must whisper or speak low. He showed her swelling leafbuds on rose branches which had seemed dead. He showed her ten thousand new green points pushing through the mould. They put their eager young noses close to the earth and sniffed its warmed springtime breathing; they dug and pulled and laughed low with rapture until Mistress Mary's hair was as tumbled as Dickon's and her cheeks were almost as poppy red as his.

The Robin's Nest and the Promise of Life

There was every joy on earth in the secret garden that morning, and in the midst of them came a delight more delightful than all, because it was more wonderful. Swiftly something flew across the wall and darted through the trees to a close grown corner, a little flare of red-breasted bird with something hanging from its beak. Dickon stood quite still and put his hand on Mary almost as if they had suddenly found themselves laughing in a church. He whispered in broad Yorkshire, "We munnot stir. We munnot scarce breathe. I knowed he was mate-huntin' when I seed him last. It's Ben Weatherstaff's robin. He's buildin' his nest. He'll stay here if us don't fight him." They settled down softly upon the grass and sat there without moving. Dickon said, "Us mustn't seem as if us was watchin' him too close. He'd be out with us for good if he got th' notion us was interferin' now. He'll be a good bit different till all this is over. He's settin' up housekeepin'. He'll be shyer an' readier to take things ill. He's got no time for visitin' an' gossipin'. Us must keep still a bit an' try to look as if us was grass an' trees an' bushes. Then when he's got used to seein' us I'll chirp a bit an' he'll know us'll not be in his way." Mistress Mary was not at all sure that she knew how to try to look like grass and trees and bushes, but she watched him for a few minutes carefully, wondering if it was possible for him to quietly turn green and put out branches and leaves. But he only sat wonderfully still, and when he spoke dropped his voice to such a softness that it was curious that she could hear him, but she could. He said, "It's part o' th' springtime, this nest-buildin' is. I warrant it's been goin' on in th' same way every year since th' world was begun. They've got their way o' thinkin' and doin' things an' a body had better not meddle. You can lose a friend in springtime easier than any other season if you're too curious." Mary told him about Colin, and Dickon was actually relieved as soon as the surprise died away from his round face. He exclaimed, "I am glad o' that. I'm right down glad. It makes me easier. I knowed I must say nothin' about him an' I don't like havin' to hide things." Mary asked, "Don't you like hiding the garden?" He answered, "I'll never tell about it. But I says to mother, 'Mother,' I says, 'I got a secret to keep. It's not a bad 'un, tha' knows that. It's no worse than hidin' where a bird's nest is. Tha' doesn't mind it, does tha'?'" Mary always wanted to hear about mother. Dickon grinned sweet-temperedly. "It was just like her, what she said. She give my head a bit of a rub an' laughed an' she says, 'Eh, lad, tha' can have all th' secrets tha' likes. I've knowed thee twelve year'.'"

The Green Veil and the Promise of Colin

Dickon and Mary discussed the possibility of bringing Colin to the garden. Dickon said, "I was thinkin' that if he was out here he wouldn't be watchin' for lumps to grow on his back; he'd be watchin' for buds to break on th' rose-bushes, an' he'd likely be healthier. I was wonderin' if us could ever get him in th' humor to come out here an' lie under th' trees in his carriage." Mary replied, "I've been wondering that myself. I've thought of it almost every time I've talked to him. I've wondered if he could keep a secret and I've wondered if we could bring him here without any one seeing us. I thought perhaps you could push his carriage. The doctor said he must have fresh air and if he wants us to take him out no one dare disobey him. He won't go out for other people and perhaps they will be glad if he will go out with us. He could order the gardeners to keep away so they wouldn't find out." Dickon was thinking very hard as he scratched Captain's back. "It'd be good for him, I'll warrant. Us'd not be thinkin' he'd better never been born. Us'd be just two children watchin' a garden grow, an' he'd be another. Two lads an' a little lass just lookin' on at th' springtime. I warrant it'd be better than doctor's stuff." Mary said, "He's been lying in his room so long and he's always been so afraid of his back that it has made him queer. He knows a good many things out of books but he doesn't know anything else. He says he has been too ill to notice things and he hates going out of doors and hates gardens and gardeners. But he likes to hear about this garden because it is a secret. I daren't tell him much but he said he wanted to see it." Dickon concluded, "Us'll have him out here sometime for sure. I could push his carriage well enough." He then made one of his low whistling calls and the robin turned his head and looked at him inquiringly, still holding his twig. Dickon spoke to him as Ben Weatherstaff did, but Dickon's tone was one of friendly advice: "Wheres'ever tha' puts it, it'll be all right. Tha' knew how to build tha' nest before tha' came out o' th' egg. Get on with thee, lad. Tha'st got no time to lose." Mary said, "Oh, I do like to hear you talk to him! Ben Weatherstaff scolds him and makes fun of him, and he hops about and looks as if he understood every word, and I know he likes it. Ben Weatherstaff says he is so conceited he would rather have stones thrown at him than not be noticed." Dickon laughed too and went on talking to the robin: "Tha' knows us won't trouble thee. Us is near bein' wild things ourselves. Us is nest-buildin' too, bless thee. Look out tha' doesn't tell on us." And though the robin did not answer, because his beak was occupied, Mary knew that when he flew away with his twig to his own corner of the garden the darkness of his dew-bright eye meant that he would not tell their secret for the world.