"Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet," said Anne Shirley. (L.M Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables.) And I think it is equally nice to wake up to a day with no plans in it yet.
I feel so much freedom in having a simple day at home where I don't know what I am going to do. There are so many things I could do! Should I have oatmeal or toast with my eggs this morning? Shall I choose to knit, a familiar pastime, or try something new: crocheting? Would I rather ramble through the garden this afternoon, or just curl up with a good book? And if I chose the latter what should I read? Julia Child's My Life in France, Out of Africa, or start something new altogether?
Earlier this morning, after getting a little frustrated at my lack of internet, (I do have a deadline to keep here!) I thought of a beloved children's book I had not read in a long time, one which happened to be safely tucked in the bookshelf in my own bedroom. I ran my finger over the bottom shelf, the home to several, over-sized children's stories, and selected the one on my mind from the bunch. I opened The Gardener (by Sarah Stewart) and perused the colorful, beautifully illustrated pages that tell the story of a little girl with a great love of gardening and flowers, a girl who happens to share my first name: Lydia, Lydia Grace Finch.
Later in the day I chose to walk outside in the garden, (possibly inspired by the morning's reading!) Being outdoors in the warming days of spring, examining all the new growth in the flowers and on the trees, makes me feel very child-like again. It is a wonderful feeling. Sometimes I yearn to truly return to my childhood, where my world was smaller, simpler, and sometimes even sweeter. Of course I only remember the beautiful things at times like these. But that is not an option. I can never go back, only forward. But I can take as many things with me into the future as I want, like children's books, a love a flowers, the simple beautiful things that I remember from long ago....
Well I remember you well as a little princess always dressed up to the nine's and dirty from playing tea party in the dirt. You had a busy imagination then and now. The curls....loved the long, long curls...should we say flowing tresses? tumbling tresses? Curly locks? At three about now you would have told me off and stomped back out to the yard to your little doings....you sound so much like your mom in this post. Sweet.
ReplyDeleteAnother book to find. Great post.
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