One very early morning in Ireland I arose from spending the night in a castle to wander the grounds. It was foggy, crisp and quiet. I stumbled upon a wall with a gate and upon entering was captivated by a very large, eery but breathtaking secret garden. I was alone and a bit spooked, but wandered on and came to an ancient greenhouse perched up in the center of the huge foggy garden. I entered only to find these lovely onions hanging to dry in a clever, but rickety old, rack. Needless to say, I had to paint it.