This was my third creative sketch of the late night and wee hours of the morning, and I think this one might just fit the bill.
A gap in the bushes separated our yard from the grasses of the secret place beyond. Tall hedges encompassed the whole enclosure, so that when you crossed into it you stepped into a separate world that smelled of lavender and dead leaves. An oak tree grew in the middle, surrounded by lavender bushes and a little cinderblock wall. Its branches were long and the leaves thick, so that in the summer the roof threw green shadows that danced on the ground. A swing hung from one limb.
In fact, it was rather like the Wood-Between-the-Worlds, except earthier and suited to being occupied by children. The oak gave off the feeling that it was the only thing holding the world together, and that like Atlas it held the sky on its shoulders. It was an anchor binding this world to all the infinite realms of adventure, so that you could always return from forays into imaginary places.
It was perfect for a six-year-old girl to get wildly lost in Narnia. Plots could be hatched, house could be kept, and it could easily be defended against pirates. The secrecy kept it a sanctuary, and the wildness left it the sort of place where anything could happen and something always would.
 Phrasing courtesy of Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine.