Do you ever dream of whisking yourself off to a secluded corner of the world? Settling down to live a quiet life, in a cozy cottage, with only the trees for company? I do, quite often, actually. (Can you say ‘introvert’?)
It’s the one ever-present dream in the back of my mind….
It’s the one dream I want, more than anything else… that cottage deep in the woods (or near the ocean). I’m not sure exactly, when that feeling started, but I feel like it has been with me always. It travels with me every day and has become part of me, and I think I will hold fast to it, always.
So, in honor of my dream, I decided to design and paint my little cottage. I haven’t actually, water colored in a while, so I’m a little rusty. I took this time to practice, and hone my dimensional skills both, as an artist and as a dreamer.
I “drew” inspiration (no pun intended), from a few photos on the internet, and also a bit from the ol’ noggin. For materials, I tried out my new Prismacolor Col-Erase pencil, in the color vermilion, (which I happen to adore). It blends incredibly well with paints, and markers.
I’m pleased with the outcome, but, I still have plenty of room for improvement. I really want to work on creating more texture, and layers, but that will only come with practice. (Any tips would be appreciated.)
This is my hand crafted depiction of my little, dream cottage in the woods, and I would happily live here, if the opportunity should ever arise.
Until then, I’ll keep the idea tucked away in my “heart-pocket”.
What about you?
What is your dream home?
Do you have any dreams tucked away in your “heart-pocket”?
A few weeks ago, I went on another mountain adventure. Or should I say- misadventure? It may seem like mountains and I don’t quite get along, but I can assure you, we like each other very much. We just tend to have a lot of mishaps, together. (Read here about my last excursion.) This time though, might just take the cake, for being the mightiest misadventure yet. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves…
My sister had the day off and planned a hiking trip with a friend. It was supposed to be a hike to a ghost town. Since I had work, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go, but the prospect of seeing a real-live ghost town, was very enticing. So last minute, I was able to get the day off. Woohoo!
Unfortunately, my other sister wouldn’t be coming along due to a recent dental procedure, (I’ll spare you the details…). Though she kindly leant me her very expensive camera, to document the trip. Early the next morning, the three of us hopped in the car, and headed out to see this mysterious, ghost town.
We were told that the hike is considered to be ‘intermediate’ and would be about three and a half miles, round-trip. I thought it sounded like a fair match for my abilities. I brought lots of water, a first aid kit, and a few other, ‘just-incase’ items. When we arrived, it was still early morning and a bit chilly; I knew that would change later, so I enjoyed the cool air, while I could.
After only a few minutes in, we saw a serious issue ahead. The path forked. We had only seen one sign, (back in the parking lot) which had gotten us to where we were. Luckily, though, we had a book in our possession, with “directions” to our destination. An old book, with simplistic, if not primitive, instructions. It went something like, ‘After you pass this field, go right. And when you have passed that stream, go left.’ Clear and concise, right?
After an agonizing attempt at deciphering the directions, we did as the book suggested, and took the path to the right, though my gut was uneasy. Nonetheless, we forged ahead, even with our doubts and uncertainties. The path was pleasant and peaceful. We passed a camp ground and a small stream, just like the book said we would. But ever so slightly, and hardly noticeable at first, the trail began shrinking.
The terrain was getting more and more, rough. And at points, the trail would disappear altogether, and we’d have to wade through bushes, and ravines, to meet it again. The further we went, the more sure we were, that we had taken a wrong turn. So after climbing up a very steep hillside, and leaving the trail behind altogether, we decided we had to do something. GPS was finicky in the area, but after a few attempts, we got a signal.
Our suspicions were confirmed. We were definitely NOT on the right path. But we didn’t seem to be too far off, and thought, if we could just veer a bit to the west, we might bump into the correct trail. So we forged on, trekking uphill once more. When we checked the GPS again, we weren’t any closer. By this time we all agreed that our only option was to go back, and start again from the beginning. We had been traveling for over an hour in the wrong direction. Ouch.
With my energy level tanking, and several rough slides, and surfs down the mountain, I decided to employ the help of a sturdy stick, which was tremendously helpful in our slippery decent. We got plenty of scrapes and scratches, as thorns and twigs snagged at our skin and clothes along the way. Tired, grouchy, and by this time quite hot, we reached that cursed split in the trail, (another hour and a half later). After scouting around more throughly, we spotted a small map on the side of a tree, and we were shocked by what it showed. The path we had taken, was marked by a black line, snaking up the mountain. Black, indicated that the trail level was EXPERT!
I am proud to say, that I can now call myself an expert hiker, since I survived that trail. Just barely, though.
But the story isn’t over yet. With the help of our little friend, GPS, we started out once again, on the correct trail. It was hot, and we were tired and a bit discouraged, but we weren’t going to give up. We came here to see a ghost town and we weren’t leaving until we found it. The trail was definitely easier now, but still challenging. The path cut steadily upwards, and as we climbed higher, so did the temperature. Between the long stretches of burning hot sun, every small piece of shade felt like heaven. My dear old sister began walking at the pace of a prehistoric sloth. (I have no idea if such a thing existed, but if so, it probably would have walked faster than her.) Every fifty feet, she had to stop and take a break and would refuse to move, until I threatened to drag her behind me. Fortunately, these breaks did allow me to take some photographs. I myself, wanted to give up, but with my trusty stick in hand, I persevered. I imagined that I was Gandalf, leading the way through Mirkwood, with the help of my magical staff. That helped a little.
After another torturous two hours, of muscle twisting climbing, we saw the first actual hint that we were getting close. The “hint”, took the form of an ‘ancient red car’, as the book described. And the second hint, was an old wooden sign with the word, ‘hotel’ etched on it, and an arrow pointing ahead. With the teeny-tiny, bit of energy we had left, we forged on toward the abandoned ghost hotel. We noticed small remnants of civilization; just broken bits of debris, really. Despite the exhaustion, our hearts still stirred with some amount of excitement at the prospect of finding this ghost town. But then, we ran into another group of hikers, who were heading down the trail and, bluntly delivered the news. That pile of debris we had just passed, well… that was the so-called ‘town’. It couldn’t be.
An old car, and some old boards, was a ghost town? It seemed too cruel to be true. But alas, the truth really does hurt. (In the knees, especially.) We had hiked for four exhausting hours, and were rewarded with a pile of old sticks. Our only consolation, was that we need go no further. We could finally have our lunch, and have a well deserved rest. Before hiking another two hours back to the car, that is.
There you have it folks. If you thought this tale would have some kind of redeeming reward at the end, you are sure to be disappointed. But I can assure you, you won’t be nearly as disappointed as we were. The one small takeaway though, is that if you asked me beforehand, if I thought I could go on a nearly seven hour hike, I would answer with a resounding, no. But I surprised myself, and finished strong. And got some pretty good photos along the way. Yay me!
In hindsight, it was quite a spectacular adventure and I’m glad I took it; misadventure, though it was. (I hope it was a bit entertaining for you too!)
P.S. If you happen to hear about a ghost town in the mountains, don’t believe it.
Today I have a tag to bring to you! This is the first time I’ve ever been tagged, and I want to thank Chelsea, over at An Ordinary Pen, for tagging me. You should definitely check out her blog.
Anyway, let’s get on with the tag – What Does God Mean to Me…
Who is God to you?
God to me…is everything. The Creator, the Composer, the Completer, the Author of the universe.
I feel that God is too big, and almighty to limit to just a few words, but I think those listed above, get pretty close.
Which Bible verse do you think has shaped the way you live?
The scripture that has been most impactful on my life is, Romans 5:3-5.
“And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”
For me, those three verses completely capture what it is to be a Christian. They remind me how I should live, (especially, in these insane, and scary times). It is a powerful reminder that life is hard. There will be many trials, and heartaches, but through our tribulations, we are beckoned closer to Him, and shown His magnificence and great love towards us.
Which Bible character do you identify with the most?
That’s a tough question, but I would say that someone I really look up to, is Joshua. When all of Israel turned their backs, and disobeyed God, only Joshua stayed by Moses’ side. He never gave in, or buckled and followed the masses. Despite how difficult and challenging things got, he remained faithful to the Lord. That is a wonderful reminder and something I try to focus on, and keep in the forefront of my mind.
What is your favourite way to praise God?
One of my favorite ways to be with God, and be grateful and appreciative for His blessings, is to just be outdoors. There, I am away from technology, and away from the distractions of the world. There, I can just “be”, in the midst of His creation, and relish in the beauty, peace and craftsmanship of His handiwork. Outside in the fresh air, is where I always feel the most connected to God; and feel such immense blessing and gratitude. I truly believe we are all meant to spend time outdoors. It can really bring our focus back to Him.
What is your favourite praise song or Psalm?
One of my favorite praise songs is, Joy, by Page CXVI. It’s a hauntingly, beautiful rendition of a classic hymn.
I also really like, O God Forgive Us, by For King and Country. Seems I never get tired of that song, and it always touches my heart.
So, I guess that’s it! I had a lot of fun answering these questions, and I want to again, thank Chelsea, for tagging me.
At the end of these posts, one usually tags others to participate, but instead, if any of you out there would like to have a go, you can answer the questions in the comments down below. Or if you have a blog, consider yourself tagged, by me.
Thank you for reading, and I look forward to hearing from you,
“For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.“
Song of Solomon 2:11-12
Spring has arrived, at long last. It’s become visible in the small green sprouts, poking out through the old leaves, and the small buds forming on the trees. Winter wasn’t much in terms of coldness, and snow, it was very dry and mild. Nonetheless, I’m excited to have leaves on the trees once again, and to see colors breaking up all the dull brown.
With every new season, there comes with it, its own set of tasks and duties.
One of spring’s first tasks is yard work. Lots and lots of yard work. Through the winter, the garden rests, and so do I. There’s very little that needs tending, but in the spring, oh my! The soil needs to be turned, beds need to be cleared, debris needs to be raked up, and plans need to be made. I don’t think I’ve ever really “liked” yard/garden work, but recently, I’ve really come to enjoy it.
Another of my spring tasks, and one of the biggest undertakings of the season, is brushing out my dog’s fur, which may not sound like a big deal, but let me tell you, he has a lot of fur. Two layers, to be exact. Come spring/summer, he sheds an entire coat, (his winter insulation) and it takes me almost the entire summer to brush it all out before it starts growing back again. In the end I’m left with big bags full of ‘wool’. So much so, that if I knew how to spin, I could make enough yarn to turn it into a sweater. Who needs alpacas, anyway?
Spring is also very busy for me, because it means I go back to work, where my job-title is planter-in-chief. I work seasonally in a greenhouse, and in the early part of the year, we work fast, and furiously, to get thousands of flowers, and vegetables planted. All this must be done in time for folks to purchase the plants, and get them in the ground of their own gardens. Fortunately, the “growing season” in the nursery is only about four months. But let me tell you, it’s a very tough four months! But I love my job, and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Spring also means it’s my birthday, dun, dun dun. Which is both good, and bad, I guess. Good because, I get cake and presents. Bad because, who actually likes getting older every single year, and making the announcement to the entire world? This year is an especially dreaded one, because it happens to be a landmark birthday. I will be exactly two decades old. Perhaps it’s time to start saving for my funeral, and begin thinking about my will? Who will I leave all my books to?
I suppose I’ll get over my melancholia at some point. I mean, next year it’s just going to come round again, and I’ll have to bemoan the fact that I’ll be older still. I’ll never get used to this whole ‘growing up’ thing. Bleh.
And finally, the next not so pleasant, sign that spring has sprung, is the timely arrival of my allergies. The loathsome side effect of this thing called ‘nature’. I actually begin to feel it in my very cells. Tissue and allergy meds become my constant companions. My face can get itchy, and my eyes can swell shut, but that’s just par for the course, right? Who’s complaining?
In short, spring is probably my favorite time of year. It’s a nice in-between, where the days are warm, and the nights can be a little chilly. The trees are pink and flowery, and I can make grandiose plans for summer, all before the sweltering heat of summer sets in. For now, its time to enjoy my time time outdoors, and be grateful for my opportunity to see the world wake up.
So, just wanted to take a moment to commemorate the changing of the seasons, and what that entails for me. I hope that this spring will be a good one for you, (or Autumn, for my pals ‘down under’), and that you will take some time to touch, see, smell all the beauty that is, spring.
I love classics. Many of my favorite stories were written a hundred, or more years ago. There is something special about the books written long ago, that can never be replicated in modern ones. You might read a dozen books written in modern times, and dislike more than half, whereas, if you read a dozen classic books, chances are, you will love nearly all of them.
That said, just because a book is labelled a ‘classic’ is not a guarantee that it will be as wonderful as you might expect. Below, I’ve made a list of just such books. I’m not going to say that I “disliked” them, but rather, I just “didn’t enjoy”.
1.The Picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde
I read The Picture of Dorian Gray, quite a while back, so I’m not sure, if I re-read it today if my opinion would be any different. But, from what I recall, this book was a strange read. The main theme of the story, in a nutshell, portrays the evils of greed, and vanity and how they can ensnare you; and that was definitely achieved. I read this book quickly, and was never bored while reading, but I must say that it was a relief when I finished it. This book really gives off a dark, disturbing, feeling of immorality, and evil; and I suppose, it being a classic, in gothic literature, that was to be expected. Nevertheless, reading through the events that transpired, left me feeling greatly uncomfortable. I wouldn’t discourage anyone from reading this story, but I might give them fair warning beforehand. The feelings and emotions that it evoked in me, is what keeps me from regarding it as a favorite, though it was well written, and thought provoking.
2. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly Frankenstein. There have been so many fascinating spinoffs, and legends inspired by this book, so I was very excited to read it. But, my excitement was not met within the story. Mostly, I was “disappointed” while reading this book, rather than “disliking” it. I felt a bit let down, that it wasn’t the scary and mysterious book I thought it would be. I felt bored many times, and the lengthly dialog and endless recounting of events, outweighed the more interesting parts.
Perhaps some of the issue was the frame of mind I was in, at the time I read it, I was traveling, and that may have had much to do with my lack of enjoyment.
3. Emma, by Jane Austen
Now, before the Jane Austen Police Force comes after me, here is your friendly warning: you may prefer to skip this section.
Like all of Austen’s works, it follows the life and adventures of a young woman, trying to figure out her future. I felt that the story was “spoiled” for me, by Emma, herself, who also, happens to be very “spoiled”. In nearly everything she did, she tragically, ruined the situation for someone else. And though her intentions may have been good, it doesn’t change the fact that she left a path of destruction behind her. In the end, she finally, recognizes some of her past mistakes, but that wasn’t quite enough to improve my view of her, or the book.
(I did like Mr. Knightley, though. The only character who had any sense!)
4. The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien
It saddens me terribly, to add this book to the list. But, I simply, can’t pretend that this was the best book I’ve ever read. Of course, the overarching story was still very enjoyable, but there were a few things that made the reading experience feel very tedious for me.
One of those few things was the very large number of songs in the book.
That may not sound like a big deal, but when there are three to four pages of one song appearing quite frequently…well, it’s just not fun. I suppose, one could simply skip the songs entirely but, to me, that felt like cheating, so I read through them all. Even though I could barely keep my eyes open a few verses in.
5. Villette, by Charlotte Brontë
Now, for this particular book, I actually really did enjoy it, but I had one major issue with it. That issue was the French dialog. The story takes place in France, so as you might expect, there is quite a lot of French, spoken throughout. But, what you might not expect is the utter lack of translation. This wouldn’t be a problem if I spoke French, but unfortunately I do not, and I’m sure many others don’t either. If this only happened once or twice, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but there were times that I would miss out on entire conversations, and have very little clue as to what was being discussed. Many times I was left feeling confused and annoyed over missing out on some important piece of the story. So if you want to read Villette, it might be handy to have a French-English dictionary nearby. Or like me, you could just try to decipher the meanings of any words that might look slightly similar to something in English.
There you have it. I’d like to think I’m not alone in my feelings toward [some] of these books.
Tell me what classics you’ve read that you have found to be somewhat, disappointing.
Or share below, how wrong you think I am for thinking such horrid thoughts about such grand works of fiction.
My mom’s birthday passed recently, and as usual, I was in charge of making the cake. She’s a big chocolate lover, so I planned on using my favorite chocolate cake recipe. Everything was going according to plan; two cups of flour, one cup of milk, two cups of sugar… and so on. I finished fairly quickly and got it into the oven. I cleaned up the kitchen and put my tools away. And about thirty minutes later, it was time to bring the cake out.
I opened the oven and knew immediately that something wasn’t right. In fact, something was very, very wrong. It didn’t rise at all and it baked hard and solid. The color and texture was off too, not at all how it should have looked. I knew for a fact that I put the correct amount of baking powder, but I thought that maybe somehow, (however unlikely,) I had added too much flour. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what could have happened. I held onto the hope, that with some frosting it would be okay, and disguise my unsightly creation, and maybe even pass as edible.
But before icing, I decided to do a taste test, just to make sure that it was in fact, going to be edible. So with a butter knife, I gingerly cut off an itty bitty, piece.
As soon as it touched my tongue I was horrified! I couldn’t spit it out fast enough! It couldn’t be! Nervously, I looked back to where the ingredients sat, and confirmed my suspicions. To my great dismay, I saw in the usual place of the sugar bin, a big tub of S. A. L. T. NO! Not two whole cups of salt in my beautiful chocolate cake! How could this happen!?
The cake tasted so incredibly bad, that I instantly felt ill, sick to my stomach. Nothing I tried would get the taste out of my mouth. After I broke the news to my mom, and everyone else in the house, and took a few moments to grieve the cake that would never be, (and also have lunch) I tossed the abomination straight into the trash!
A short while later, I felt more composed (and full) and ready for my second attempt. This time I would do it right. No mistakes allowed. I made sure to read every ingredient before it went into the bowl, twice.
Confident that I had done everything correctly, I once again put the pan in the oven. As before, at the thirty minute mark I pulled the cake out of the oven; and it was perfect!
Beautifully colored and perfectly risen. A success! Hallelujah, praise the LORD! My mom’s birthday wasn’t going to be ruined after all.
Later that night, when we finally cut into it, it turned out to be one of the best cakes I’ve ever made. And, in the process I even managed to invent one of the best, most delicious frostings I’ve ever made!
So what I learned from this mishap, wasn’t only how to make a cake properly, but I was also reminded how important it is to be vigilant about ALL our tasks. I learned that no matter how many times I’ve done something before, I should not allow myself to become lazy or complacent. That I should do all things with intention, dedication and focus and be present in what I am doing.
And when I’m feeling unsure, I shouldn’t ever be afraid to ask someone for help, (especially, when trying to verify whether the sparkly white substance in question is salt or sugar).
Secondly, on a deeper level, to me it was a living example of how God works.
When we think we have it all under control, sometimes we are met with a huge wake-up call, that actually, we don’t. Yet, we are not to lose hope, for our failures are rarely wasted and usually happen for a reason. That reason, may be an opportunity for us to learn something new, and to gain wisdom and understanding. When we DO try again, we will know better and our successes can be even sweeter.
We can see that cycle repeated throughout the Bible. God takes something that was sad, sorry and miserable, and transforms it into something wonderful.
That was quite a revelation, I received from a cake gone wrong, and no matter the situation, we can still find God, speaking to us in ways we might never imagine.
“The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD, and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; For the LORD upholds him with His hand.”
“It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I may learn Your statutes.”
If you want to know the recipe I used, you can find it here.
Anyway, I hope my mistake made you chuckle a bit.
I sincerely hope that all of your baking endeavors turn out better than mine, and that you never end up in a situation like this.
(Although, if you’re a baker, and you bake often enough, you’re bound to make a mistake or two at some point!)
Here we are at the close of yet another year.
Time literally feels like it’s flying by in a high-speeding rocket, and I can barely hold on to the days! That may sound a bit dramatic, but I’m sure we all feel the same, don’t we?
Anyway, reading-wise, this (past) year went fairly well. Though I only read four more books than I did in 2016, I’m still pretty happy that I managed to pull that off!
I feel like I branched out a bit, and read genres that were a bit unusual for me, which I’m pretty proud of. I also crossed off six books from the nine I had on my TBR. That too, was an accomplishment. (I may have unconsciously, avoided the more intimidating ones, *wink, wink.)
In addition, I read a lot of really good books that I very much enjoyed. Even a few that I absolutely LOVED! I’ll share those with you at another time, so keep an eye out for a future post about them.
Without further ado…here is my complete list of books read in 2017:
Ratings 1/5 stars
1. The Inheritance, by Louisa May Alcott – 4
2. The Wind in The Willows, by Kenneth Grahame – 4
3. Villette, by Charlotte Bronte – 4
4. Michale O’Halloran, by Gene Stratton-Porter – 4
5. Journey to the Centre of the Earth, by Jules Verne – 5
6. Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury – 5
7. The Shepherd of Bethlehem, by A.L.O.E. – 4
8. Animal Farm, by George Orwell – 5
9. To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee – 5
1. Food Forensics, by Mike Adams – 5
2. A Buzz in the Meadow, by Dave Goulson – 4
3. Endurance, by Alfred Lansing – 5
4. Ghosts in the Fog, by Samantha Seiple – 3
1. House of Furies, by Madeilne Roux – 2
2. The Betrayal, by R.L. Stine – 3
3. The Secret, by R.L. Stine – 3
4. The Burning, by R.L. Stine – 3
5. And Then She was Gone, by Christopher Greyson – 4
6. Thornhill, by Pam Smy – 4
7. Dream House, by Marzia Bisognin – 2
1. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith – 4
2. Maud, by Melanie J. Fishbane – 4
1. Heartless, by Marissa Meyer – 4
2. Mortal Song, by Megan Crewe – 3
3. The Mermaid’s Sister, by Carrie Anne Noble – 4
4. The Reader, by Traci Chee – 4
5. Green Ember, by S.D. Smith – 3
6. Six of Crows, by Leigh Bardugo – 4
7. Crooked Kingdom, by Leigh Bardugo – 4
8. Seeds of Discovery, by Breeana Puttroff – 3
9. Roots of Insight, by Breeana Puttroff – 3
10. Falling Kingdoms, by Morgan Rhodes – 2
11. Rose of the Oath, by Hope Ann – 4
12. A Wizard of Earthsea, by Ursula K. LeGuin – 3
13. Mistborn, by Brandon Sanderson – 5
14. Among the Flames, by Kim Vandel – 5
15. Seeker, by Arwen Elys Dayton – 3
16. Blood Race, by K.A. Emmons – 5
17. Dark Lord of Derkholm, by Diana Wynne Jones – 5
18. Caraval, by Stephanie Garber – 4
19. Book of a Thousand Days, by Shannon Hale – 5
There it is, folks!
Again, wouldn’t call it a “grand” total, but rather a decent one, I suppose.
I usually try not to end on an odd number, (my OCD is showing…) but it couldn’t be helped this time. I’m hoping this year will be better, as I’m aiming for fifty books, but don’t quote me on that. My personal best was seventy books in a year, and maybe some day I’ll be able to top that, but I don’t think that will happen very soon.
As far as goals go, I want to read more non-fiction, you know, educational books. *shudder*
I realized that there are some really great non-fiction books out there, I just have to find the right ones. And along with that, I’m going to continue on as I did last year, and try to read a wider range of genres/styles.
So tell me, did you meet your reading goals last year?
What are your goals for this year?
Did we read any of the same books in 2017?
Please share your comments below.
I don’t often write down, or make note of quotes from books, but on occasion when I find one that I really love, I underline it (*gasp*). I used to be afraid of marring or damaging my books in any way, and I still try my best not to crack their spines; but then I had an epiphany, and I realized that I would rather leave a permanent mark of an underlined phrase, or sentence, that stood out to me, for my future self, or perhaps another future reader.
If I happen to find such markings in a book purchased from a thrift store, I have come to appreciate it and find it quite interesting. It’s an extra little treasure to see what a previous reader may have found deserving enough to underline.So today I will share a few of those interesting pieces I have found to be worthy of sacrificing a pristine page for.
“Just what I thought, that did I tell M. Emanuel, and explained to him that my own last appeal, the guide to which I looked, and the teacher which I owned must always be the Bible itself, rather than any sect, or whatever name or nation.”
Charlotte Brontë, Villette
“Puddleglum’s my name. But it doesn’t matter if you forget it. I can always tell you again.”
C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
“‘No living creature has the right to claim wisdom. There is always more to find out. I should know that. I imagine you know it, too, Wizard.’
‘I’ve never ever felt wise,’ Derk said frankly. ‘But I suppose it is a temptation, to stare into distance and make people think you are.’
‘It’s humbug,’ said the dragon. ‘It’s also stupid. It stops you learning more.’”
Diana Wynne Jones, Dark Lord of Derkholm
“Narnia, Narnia, Narnia: Awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking beasts. Be divine waters.”
C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew
These are a couple quotes that I have collected over time, and I look forward to reading more, and marking down passages, and pages that I like, and perhaps sharing them all with you.
Are there any quotes that you love, or have dared to underline in your books?
Oh, Autumn, you are upon us once again.
You’ve moved in so subtly, until your presence was quite unmistakable.
I could sense your arrival on the wind; from the scent of rotting leaves, smoking wood fires, and a cool crispness in the air, so tangible.
I could hear you too, in the chilly winds rustling the papery leaves, brittle, yet still clinging to the creaking trees; in the hoot of owls calling to one another, deep in the night, and in the buzz of busy bees preparing for winter.
But most of all I could see you, in the shortened days, bursting with the brightest shades of purple, red, orange and yellow, transforming every growing thing. And I could see you also, in the inky black crows, lurking amongst the trees.
It is time to bring out our beloved hats, scarves, and sweaters, which I have missed dearly,
and spend our days wandering and exploring in the brisk, exhilarating air.
And though I may be a bit sad to part with our dear old Summer, I am pleased to see you, and I bid you WELCOME!
I look forward to the many nights spent in, curled up with a warm cup of tea, and a good book or two.
And now that I’ve shared my welcome greeting, please make yourself at home; our time together will be short, as Winter is heading this way, so I hear.
Professor Otto Liedenbrock is an eccentric, and esteemed boffin, (person engaged in scientific research), of Hamburg, Germany. One day, he discovers a slip of paper, fallen from an old manuscript, written in an ancient runic code. Sure, that it will lead to an incredible discovery, he stops at nothing until he cracks the code. When the message is revealed, Liedenbrock prepares to depart immediately to the destination mentioned.
Together with his unwilling, yet ambitious nephew, Axel, and indomitable guide, they make their way to Iceland, where the true journey will begin. Their travels will result in one of the most remarkable discoveries of the nineteenth century.
This was the first Jules Verne book that I actually enjoyed AND finished.
Written from Axel’s point of view, I was pleasantly surprised by his humorous, reluctant, and dramatic personality. The exchanges between uncle and nephew, were very silly and entertaining. There were many times that I found myself laughing out loud, or smiling, while reading.
Their relationship was reminiscent of the one between Sherlock, and Watson, from the BBC show Sherlock.
Professor Liedenbrock, with his strange ways, and wildly excited attention was much like that of Sherlock.
Counterbalanced by Axel, who is quick to point out the dangers, and risks, (though he is unfortunately ignored). Yet he too, eventually finds himself as interested and invested in their schemes, as his uncle. The pace did slow a bit in the second half of the book, but being that it was such a short read, it didn’t bother me.
If you haven’t read many classics, or are perhaps intimidated by them, Journey to the Centre of the Earth, is a fun, and easy read. A true classic filled with adventure, and discovery; you should definitely give it a try.