Category: Books

Anne of Green Gables: Chapter 3

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Continuing our reading…

Poor Marilla. She is probably still nervously reeling from Rachel’s Job-friend-like 😉 advice, and now she has to deal with a GIRL.

Anne’s outbursts are funny, but man, she really is such a cheerful child for having had very little love in her life. Her imagination and the beautiful ideas that she has read in books have helped keep the hope alive, a little bit at least, I think.

I love this part…

“Oh, this is the most tragical thing that ever happened to me!”

Something like a reluctant smile, rather rusty from long disuse, mellowed Marilla’s grim expression.

pg 24

What’s your name?

The child hesitated for a moment.

“Will you please call me Cordelia?” she said eagerly.

“Call you Cordelia! Is that your name?”

“No-o-o, it’s not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It’s such a perfectly elegant name.”

“I don’t know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn’t your name, what is it?”

pg 24

This whole part is just so funny and sweet. Marilla’s bewilderment, Anne’s anguish…so many little things. I find myself in the “depths of despair” quite often myself, in fact, my husband sometimes will ask me if I’m wallowing in them. He knows me so well. Ha. 🙂

I love the description of the room from Anne’s point of view…I laughed out loud specifically at this…

“…with a fat, red velvet pincushion hard enough to turn the point of the most adventurous pin. ”

pg 27

I love how Montgomery is showing us Anne’s frame of mind through her perception of the room. Such beautiful writing!

I love Matthew’s heart here…

“I suppose – we could hardly be expected to keep her.”

“I should say not. What good would she be to us?”

“We might be some good to her,” said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly. ❤

pg 28-29

And upstairs, in the east gable, a lonely, heart-hungry, friendless child cried herself to sleep. pg 29

Aww. Sweet, yet sad chapter.

~

Anne of Green Gables: Chapter 2

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Continuing our reading…

Now we come to dear Matthew and Anne. The very illustration on the front of my beat-up paperback is such a sweet part of this chapter. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, however.

Montgomery shares some of her lovely nature-aware writing here…

“It was a pretty road, running along between snug farmsteads, with now and again a bit of balsamy fir wood to drive through or a hollow where wild plums hung out their filmy bloom. The air was sweet with the breath of many apple orchards and the meadows sloped away in the distance to horizon mists of pearl and purple; while

The little birds sang as if it were

The one day of summer in all the year.” pg 9

I adore “farmstead” and “balsamy”.

I find Matthew’s shyness  around women to be endearing and slightly humorous. Perhaps having Marilla for a sister and how long has Rachel Lynde been his neighbor I wonder, may not have helped his shyness? He dare not have any opinion or maybe never could get a word in edgewise.  Remember even a disorderly stream straightens at the sight of Mrs. Rachel!

And now we are introduced to our Dear Friend of the Ages…

“A child of about eleven, garbed in a very short, very tight, very ugly dress of yellowish gray wincey. She wore a faded brown sailor hat and beneath the hat, extending down her back, were two braids of very thick, decidedly red hair. Her face was small, white and thin, also much freckled; her mouth was large and so were her eyes, that looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others.” pg 11

I love this…

“…our discerning extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the body of this stray woman-child of whom shy Matthew Cuthbert was so ludicrously afraid.” pg 11

I hope I can be a discerning observer with people, especially children. Even just a good observer, not even extraordinary. 😉 Caring about each person as unique and special.

Oh, Anne, you and your cheery tree!

“It’s so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn’t it? They were good, you know – the asylum people. But there is so little scope for the imagination in an asylum – only just in the other orphans.” pg 12

I love how Anne immediately sees a friend in Matthew and really starts sharing pretty deep thoughts and feelings. She is so open. She tries to see good in people…I love this,

“A merchant in Hopeton last winter donated three hundred yards of wincey to the asylum. Some people said it was because he couldn’t sell it, but I’d rather believe that it was out of the kindness of his heart, wouldn’t you?” pg 14

I love how she calls the Island the “bloomiest place”. Sigh.

And after Matthew telling he doesn’t know what makes the roads red,

“Well, that is one of the things to find out sometime. Isn’t it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive – it’s such an interesting world. It wouldn’t be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there?” pg 15

That above quote reminds me of the British educator Charlotte Mason’s quote, “Not what we have learned, but what we are waiting to know is the delectable part of knowledge.” School Education, pg 273

Scope for the imagination. ❤

“…people laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas you have to use big words to express them, haven’t you?” pg 15

“Yes, it’s red,” she said resignedly. “Now you see why I can’t be perfectly 🙂 happy. Nobody could who had red hair. I don’t mind the other things so much – the freckles and the green eyes and my skinniness. I can imagine them away. I can imagine that I have a beautiful rose leaf complexion and lovely starry violet eyes. But I cannot imagine that red hair away. I do my best. I think to myself, ‘Now my hair is a glorious raven black, black as the raven’s wing.’ But all the time I know it is just plain red, and it breaks my heart. It will be my life long sorrow.” 🙂 pg 16

Oh my! There are so many good lines and parts in this chapter! How she asks Matthew if he would rather be “divinely beautiful” or “dazzinglingly clever”. pg 17

How she is struck deeply by the beauty of the Avenue and insists on renaming it “the White Way of Delight”. pg 18

Barry’s Pond + Anne = The Lake of Shining Waters.

“Isn’t it splendid there are so many things to like in this world?” pg 20

She catches her first glimpse of Green Gables, Matthew growing a bit uneasy about the coming storm.

” Listen to the trees talking in their sleep ,” she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. “What nice dreams they must have!” pg 22

What  lovely trip home to Green Gables! What did you enjoy about this chapter?

~

Harold E. Kohn

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Winter Thoughts

Long ago geographers and anthropologists proved that civilization advances most rapidly in the temperate zones where there is a mixture of weather conditions – summer balminess followed by autumn chill and wintry blasts of wind and snow. The year-round warmth of the tropics makes for spiritual torpor, mental laziness, and physical dullness. It takes all kinds of weather to stimulate men to be at their best.

     While we pray for lives full of sunshine and pleasantness, God could do us no greater harm than to answer these prayers, for it takes all kinds of weather to grow a soul. Radiant days are necessary, when bright blessing shine down upon us from above and we absorb providential goodness as a sunny hillside soaks up light. Rainy days are needed when the spirit is refreshed and cleansed as when leaves, grasses, and crops of countless forests and fields drink deeply of heaven’s plenty. But wintry cold and snowy blasts from the North are also required in the temperate life -days when our lives are revealingly tested just as hard winds, heavy snows, and slashing sleet prove the strengths and weaknesses of a Northern woods, bowing snow-laden evergreen limbs in humility and breaking rotten branches off all the trees. So life’s hard weather demonstrates in us what deserves to last and what ought to fade and die. Only winter clearly shows which trees are evergreen!

     All weathers make a soul. It was after blindness descended upon John Milton that he wrote his sublimest poetry. Beethoven’s loveliest sonatas were composed after he was stricken with deafness. What would Lincoln be without his lifelong seizures of melancholy? What would Christ be with be without His cross? 

     An American tourist in Italy watched a lumberjack at work. As the logs floated down the swift mountain stream the lumberman would thrust his hook into a particular log and draw it aside.

“Those logs all look alike, ” said the tourist. “Why do you pick out just a few?”

“They are not all alike,” the lumberman replied. “Some were grown low on the mountainside where they were protected all their lives from harsh winds. Their grains are coarse. They are good only for lumber, so I let them pass on down the stream to the lumber mills. But a few logs grew on the mountain top. From the the time they were tiny seedlings they felt the lashings of high winds and the weight of heavy snows, and they grow strong and tough and fine-grained. We do not use these for ordinary lumber. No, sir! These few are especially selected for choice work.”

     So God uses wind buffeted souls for His choicest work.

Thoughts Afield

Harold E. Kohn

pg 132-133

Thinking this morning more on this and this lovely piece here also!

Anne of Green Gables : Chapter 1

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I’ve always loved L.M. Montgomery’s beautiful nature descriptions and rich, deep characters. I forgot how humorous these books are for some reason. I don’t think humor comes through quite as strongly in some of Montgomery’s other titles. Maybe I just haven’t read enough of them or paid close enough attention! I was so glad to see how many of you sounded interested in this project , I think we all are truly kindred spirits.

Chapter 1 opens with our dear Mrs. Rachel Lynde…I chuckled at this…

“…for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum..” pg 1

I was so charmed how Lucy Maude introduces us to Mrs. Lynde by way of small, side comments alluding to her being into everyone’s business while keeping quite on top of her own.

I think words such as “betokened” need to have a resurgence in our English language. Really. They are GORGEOUS.

Upon seeing Matthew Cuthbert driving by in a SUIT and COLLAR no less , Mrs. Rachel, “…ponder as she might, could make nothing of it and her afternoon’s enjoyment was spoiled.” pg 3 🙂

I absolutely love the Naming of places and things through Montgomery’s writings. Swoon. And swoon again. Lynde’s Hollow. Green Gables. Bright River.

As Mrs. Lynde reaches Green Gables all in a dither, I love this about  Marilla, “Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper.” pg 4

This made me think a bit of how opposite really Marilla is of Anne. We know, of course, what happens in this story, but one has to ponder if Marilla really needed Anne in a sense MORE than Anne needed her.

Mrs. Lynde’s shock and surprise is so funny and what’s the most funny thing about it is that she is so appalled the Marilla dare make a decision like this without informing or asking HER first.  After Mrs. Lynde blasts Marilla with scary stories on orphans…this cracked me up…”This Job’s comforting seemed neither to offend nor alarm Marilla. She knitted steadily on.” pg 7

One has to overlook a few old-fashioned, NOT “politically correct” references in this chapter and focus really on the two characters that we are being introduced to…Rachel and Marilla. Opposite really, but they say opposites attract…and I was just thinking about how in some ways the friendship of these older ladies is just as kindred as the later one of Anne and Diana.

What jumped out to you?

~

Reading through Anne…

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{Google}

Does anyone want to join me in a little project of delight? I want to read through the entire 8 book Anne of Green Gables Series by L.M. Montgomery again. These are some of the most cherished books of my life, and I thought it would be fun to read and write through them…I’m putting no time limit on this, so it could take me a year or ten 🙂 , but I know it will be a joy. Join me on your own blog space OR just comment in the comment section about sections that stood out to you, quotes, life lessons, and just Anne love. I enjoy reading challenges, but I don’t like pressure added to my life. This is a lovely journey to me with NO pressure. You are welcome to join. I will list these under Anne Shirley in my Ramblings category cloud, so if you miss one, just check there and read along! 🙂 Avonlea, here I come! 🙂

~

Monday Ponderings {December 5th}

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Mother had that peculiar God-given gift of imagination so keen that the printed word became to her a vivid, living reality. It was as though, while her body stayed at home and cared for the children, her spirit had climbed far mountain peaks and sailed into strange harbors…Yes, the warp of Mother’s life had been restricted to keeping the home for Henry and the children. But the woof of the texture had been fashioned from the wind clouds and star drifts of the heavens.

Mother Mason by Bess Streeter Aldrich

pg 84-85

Story

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Stories are beautiful. The Bible is the ultimate Story of God’s Love and redemption for mankind. The glorious Psalms full of pain, realness, and praise. The thread of promise woven throughout the Old Testament. The joy, love, and light stirred underneath the persecution and suffering in the New Testament. Have you ever thought about how important story is to our lives? Jesus used story often when sharing truths with the disciples and the crowds that surrounded Him. Nature often tells a story if we quiet ourselves,.pay attention, and listen. The beauty and depth to poetry often astounds me.

I am so blessed and encouraged by the beautiful truths and goodness in countless books, essays, and in this modern day, some blogs, social media. I can’t imagine the days when many couldn’t even learn to read, much less touch a real book.

We’ve been busy here with the beginning of our big extended family holiday celebrations. My mind is overrun with ideas, thoughts, themes, and yes, stories. I yearn to put them down in my journal, or here, or anywhere, but alas sometimes we must set aside what we want to do for the urgency of the immediate. Seasons.

The truth is that relationships are what truly matter this side of heaven. I must continually remind myself of this…it is a weary, thankless job at times.  All the investing, patience, selflessness, and giving that relationships demand. Our relationship with God needs our purposeful attention, space to listen, learn, and converse. It is truly the most important thing we can do with our time. Next comes the people in our life. These relationships are so beautiful and so draining, but every hug, every meal, every listening ear, matters. It does. Don’t let culture or lies tell you it doesn’t. You are part of God’s amazing story and you are writing a beautiful line of it with your life.

Just think of it. Your life is a story. How will that story turn out, what will the next page contain? You hold the ink and quill in your hand. Choose wisely. May I choose wisely.

~

Fun way to make Story apart of everyday life:

We enjoy what I like to call “literary feasting”. One of our most favorite book series is The Chronicles of Narnia. The cookbook is so fun and after we checked it out from the local library, we started making a Narnia Meal.

Narnia Meal

425 degrees

Chopped veggies you have on hand. This is wonderful for using up bits & pieces you have in frig. Chop up summer sausage or kielbasa. Toss it all in your favorite oil, salt & pepper, and spices of your choice (I usually just use garlic salt). Place on large baking sheet and cover lightly with foil. Roast for 1 hour. Serve with fresh bread, rolls, or whatever side you wish! Sometimes we get cider to go with!  Light some candles and imagine yourself in Narnia with Aslan…

 

 

The Awakening of Miss Prim by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

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What a weird book! That’s possibly why I enjoyed it?!  The Awakening of Miss Prim follows an independent and well-educated woman accepting a librarian position in a rural corner of France. Little does Miss Prim know what a strange place she is making her home. The strangeness began with her employer, The Man in the Armchair. She can’t understand his strange ways, study of dead languages, and how he teaches all the village children from ancient texts and dusty classics. She identifies with him, yet rejects his beliefs and outlook on life. She thinks she may love him, but can’t risk anything. She doesn’t understand the women of the village who enjoy their businesses AND keeping their homes. She doesn’t understand the shutting out of outside society and that it’s ok to live and just be close to home. She doesn’t understand the importance placed on enjoying the mundane in life. A good meal, tea by the fireside, hospitality, and reading quietly.  She lacks understanding because she is so perfectly educated. You might say the life has been educated out of her…faith…goodness…beauty…everything has sort of drowned in all the accomplishments of her life. I had this vague irritation throughout and it came to me that Miss Prim was so self-focused and always frustrated that real life didn’t line up with what she believed was truth. I could empathise with her struggles, and yet my faith also compels a constant turning of my thoughts to my Lord and others. Miss Prim was too smart for religion or faith, and in fact, she is proud and disgusted by any semblance of faith. She sees it as a weakness. And yet…she is empty, searching, and lonely. I did feel for her in many ways and know I’ve battled her thoughts, questions. Even though her new little village is portrayed as some sort of utopia, she always is grasping at happiness.  Lulu Thiberville, an older woman of the village, isn’t well received by Miss Prim, with her opinion of young women striving instead of living, wearing them down and destroying them…

“The yearning you all display to prove your worth, to show that you know this and that, to ensure that you can have it all. The yearning to succeed and, even more, the yearning not to fail; the yearning not to be seen as inferior, but instead even as superior, simply for being exactly what you believe you are or rather what you’ve been made to believe you are. The inexplicable yearning for the world to give you credit simply for being woman.”

page 230

As the story draws to a close, we see Miss Prim starting thaw just a bit. Looking at this book through the lens of my faith, I feel that Miss Prim is missing so much by rejecting faith and really, love. As she leaves this village for a trip to Italy (which I see as another way of just searching for something to fill her void), she does the thing she resisted doing the whole time of her stay in the village. She visits the local monastery and speaks with the old monk…he wishes her a good trip and says,

“So seek beauty, Miss Prim. Seek it in the silence, in tranquility; seek it in the middle of the night and at dawn. Pause to close doors while you seek it, and don’t be surprised if it doesn’t reside in museums or palaces. Don’t be surprised if, in the end, you find beauty to be not Something, but Someone.”

pg 244

What is the picture the author was trying to paint here? I don’t know. A feminist, utopian, atheistic society is best? Or that faith is a weakness? Or that we can never be happy until we find ourselves, whatever that means?! Again, I’m not sure…remember this was a weird book. However, I walked away with a lot to chew on and different perspectives to consider. It made me care in a small way about Miss Prim and all the Miss Prim’s out there and even consider if I’ve been this way or am this way. Just flinging around, grasping, and floundering, instead of resting in my faith in the Lord Jesus. Life is a GIFT to be shared, given and savored, and I hope I never forget that truth.

~

 

 

 

Monday Ponderings…{November 21st}

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It’s strange how that is: everybody wants to change the world, but nobody wants to do the small thing that makes just one person feel loved.

 

The Broken Way: A Daring Path into the Abundant Life

Ann Voskamp

page 74

(Thinking on this quote today, the ouch factor and the thanksgiving of living a life ripe with opportunities to do just this very thing. May I not miss those opportunities!)

Tea, Cake, and Susan Branch

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Dear Susan Branch , I just turned the last page of your Martha’s Vineyard: Isle of Dreams. I was so inspired and enchanted. As a wife, mother and home cook, I found it just the perfect shot of encouragement.  I often loose sight of the little bits of joy in creating a home for my loved ones. I  found so much to be inspired by your tenacity in keeping at your dreams.  Your books, especially, Isle of Dreams, and then, A Fine Romance have brought so many smiles to my face, tears (I felt bad for you!), chuckles, and beautiful quotes to think on. Your thoughts on books, movies, cooking,  gardening, and gushes about little lovely bits of life make my feelings of kindred spirit well up. Isle of Dreams was my favorite, but  A Fine Romance was a very close second and I thought of you and just about swooned with delight as I had the chance to visit England this year.

One of the biggest things I loved about Isle of Dreams, was how much you praised and thought on all that you mother had done for you. It is so encouraging to know that little touches, the hot meals, and the traditions reached you and are remembered in a small way. I found that such a blessing to see a child of a big family praising the hard work her mother did for her family. Motherhood isn’t really a prized profession these days and the endless mundane dance we do each day while being told we have to be something MORE can really beat a woman down.

The little cocoa cups, the tea pots, your kitties, the ivy, and the endless magical little paintings you include teach me more than just love of beauty. I want to learn to pay attention deeply, and I pray my children will follow. Just to really listen to people, to savor  meals, to delight in lingering over tea, to mull over and discuss great books, and to never forget their faith. I desire to grow deeper relationships through hospitality and sharing life. You delight and excel in those gifts. Thank you, Susan, for your sweet books and a bit of brightness and warmth to wrap myself in, with a bit of tea and cake, of course.

With love,

Amy

Inspired by this writer, we enjoyed this lovely coffee cake with tea and some new MUSICA for a fall treat. Enjoy!

~

November Days

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The morning suns greets my eyes. I slip on my glasses and glory in the view. The old house creaks a bit and I walk pass the piles flooring we have yet to put in upstairs. I stumble down the ancient farmhouse stairs, dreaming of a steaming cup of coffee. Perhaps I should set up a coffee maker in my room? Maybe that is a bit extreme. 🙂 The chatter of voices greet me. “Hey, Mom. Guess what my dream was?” and “What’s for breakfast?” and “I’m cold, Mom! Where’s my sweatshirt?” all sing out as I grab my package of coffee from the freezer and start my Nectar of Life a brewing. My son begins making oatmeal for everyone, which usually ends up somewhere between water-y porridge or rock hard cement, but we all love it with brown sugar, walnuts, and a dash of milk. Some add a twist with a bit of peanut butter.

I am a huge fan of the author Gladys Taber. Have you read anything by her? She wrote extensively on her farm, Stillmeadow. As I pour my coffee, I take in the scene around me and begin to compose it, in my head, attempting to grasp the charm that Gladys always seems to find as she pens her normal days around the farm. Of course, Gladys lived a different life than me. She worked outside of the home for a time and also ends up having more dogs than children. Yet, I feel a kinship to her, leaning back against the cupboard, sipping, and taking in the beauty of the daily mundane doings and yes, chaos.

“Good news, Mom! Gandalf’s pink eye is clearing up!” is the glad shout I hear next from a precious child. Yes, go ahead and chuckle. Gandalf is our barn cat, so I guess creatures do have a part in my life, Gladys.

We move on through our day, alternating between discussions, chores, and books, with a few fights over stuffed animals and whose scissors the purple ones REALLY are. (They’re actually mine.) Ahh… glorious books. We have chosen to live life with our children here at home, learning together. Gerald Johnson takes us through early American history, we laugh at Ogden Nash’s poetry, and giggle as Louis the Trumpeter Swan learns how to play TAPS on his new trumpet. We write some, do a little math, make some caramel corn, and breathe the fresh, albeit tinged with burning leaves, country air. Someone is always asking me when’s the next meal. My crock pot definitely earns its keep.

I gaze at the steam rising from my coffee cup. Sigh. “Mom, the sewer guy is here.” My romantic ruminations are ruined. Reality stinks a bit, doesn’t it? 😉 I watch the fellow from my window, what a job, huh? He is stooped and haggard looking, I’m thankful for him, he makes my job a bit easier.

A few loads of laundry swirling around, blankets on the line. The scratching noise of pen on paper, drawings and journal entries being created. An old, petrified apple core peeks out from under the couch at me. Ahh. These November days. I get “questioned out” at about 4:00 pm, is there really still 4 or 5 hours till bedtime? Yet, I love this life I’ve been given. So, like Gladys and everyone before and those to come after, I rustle up some ingredients and go about thinking supper thoughts. I sneak in a few minutes of reading in my “garrett” as my daughter calls my bedroom, where I like to hide as frequently as possible. “You can’t just stay up here in your garrett all day, Mom, like Jo March!”

I cave in and put on the electronic babysitter. They have chosen the 1935 version of A Midsummer’s Night Dream with James Cagney and Mickey Rooney. It’s a bit creepy and weird, but I hear a laugh. A Puck-ish laugh, come to think of it.   Later the candles are lit, we began our supper with prayers and because it’s the season of thanksgiving, we purposefully go around sharing what we are thankful for today.

I’m thankful for all the November days days I’ve been given, for little blonde girls who shared their drawing with me, “Here’s what I drawed, Mom.”. I’m thankful for grins after a resolved fight over Nutella, and the piles of books to dig into soon. I’m thankful for the beauty of life. And maybe I DO need that coffee maker in my garrett.

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A favorite recipe for you!

Skillet Sausage and Mushroom Penne

*adapted from original recipe from December/January 2014 Cook’s Country magazine – I use things I have on hand and I’ve doubled the original recipe here for my crowd.

1 pkg sausage of your choice (I use breakfast sausage )

fresh mushrooms, chopped – (I use half to a whole package)

4 cups chicken broth

1 can diced tomatoes (sometimes 2, depending if I feel tomato-y or not)

about 1 1/2 packages penne, this is like 18 oz?? I think

1 1/2 cups heavy cream (I actually use half n half, because I rarely have cream on hand)

Parmesan cheese (being the gourmet that I am, I use the green can shake cheese, I know. The horror. You are welcome to use freshly grated.)

  1. Cook sausage, breaking it up, until no longer pink, add in mushrooms. Cook together till brown. Transfer mixture to bowl, set aside.
  2. Return skillet to heat, add broth, tomatoes and juice, pasta, and cream. Bring to boil. Reduce heat, simmer, stirring often, until pasta is al dente. (I actually use a pot, because of the doubling of the recipe!)
  3. Stir sausage-mushroom mixture and 1/2 cup Parmesan into pasta. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Top with other 1/2 cup of Parmesan, cover, and remove from heat until cheese is melted.

Enjoy! I serve it alone for quick lunch or add a salad as a side for a bigger dinner.

~