Wildwood

I have been reading this book. It is a treasure trove (as evidenced by it's cover) of magical woodland wonder. 

My book review at only half way through reads as thus. 

Thank you Colin Meloy for trekking the hidden paths of wildwood, and following them to my own imagination. 

I get swept away every time I read it's verbiage. I want to smell the moss Prue ( the heroine) talks so fondly about. I want to be frightened by coyote malitia in red tattered coats. I want to taste blackberry wine, even if it does get you tipsy faster than most beverages, and I long to meet the crown prince. A great magestic owl who's eyes, once locked with your own, seem to carry away your deepest secrets. 

[ a lovely little one waiting to be appreciated on the library steps] 

The writer talks of the woods repeatedly. It makes you want to plunge headlong into its deep, cool, earthy recesses. Not shockingly, I have taken to appreciating leaves and sticks and the like even more than my already obsession since picking up this book. They are my friends. They are what God made. And for some reason... They make me feel comforted. A leave stays where it's placed, loyal, living, patient. 

I love the forest. It so quickly lends itself to a sanctuary. 

[ me and a mushroom I found on an evening walk]

Every Thing. (On Being Greatful) Part 1.

There are those times when everything seems to move a little slower. It's when you are so content and greatful for the present that you savor a moment more than a normal human would. The moments are crystal clear. Suspended. You think in that space, "I will never forget this."
That was my Thanksgiving.
There was a sence in these past few days that said, this is unrepeated time, treasure it.

And I Did...

 

 Every laughing leap.

Every siblings Silhouette.

Every time the wind blew through the cracks of the window.

Every cold walk down the country road.

Every form of home, wherever it was found.

Every carful shaping of dough.

Every Every Every bite of pie....

Every time I licked my fingers.

(Dark Chocolate Truffles with Cane Sugar and Sea Salt)

Every exchange of cooking wisdom between my gifted sister and I.



(Crispy Fried Shallots)

Every warm nap on the couch wrapped up in Naomi's little arms, and her in mine.

Every smell of bacon smoke, and yeast dough

(Cornbread and Sausage Stuffing)

Every time my Papa said, "I am so happy right now."

Every creek in the floorboards.

Every foot ball tackle and chest bump.



 Every still moment.

Every belly laugh.

 
 To be continued....