Friday Favorite. #15.

Books.

This Friday’s favorite.

Books and quotes.

Delicious, heartwarming, fulfilling quotes.

Quotes like this one, which I was reminded of by my mother yesterday, while we made our way on a wintry drive through the hills of Connecticut:

“Its beauty seemed to strike the child dumb. She leaned back in the buggy, her thin hands clasped before her, her face lifted rapturously to the white splendor above. Even when they had passed out and were driving down the long slope to Newbridge she never moved or spoke….

She came out of her reverie with a deep sigh and looked at him with the dreamy gaze of a soul that had been wandering afar, star-led.

“Oh, Mr. Cuthbert,” she whispered, “that place we came through–that white place–what was it?”

“Well now, you must mean the Avenue,” said Matthew after a few moments’ profound reflection. “It is a kind of pretty place.”

“Pretty? Oh, pretty doesn’t seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don’t go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful–wonderful. It’s the first thing I ever saw that couldn’t be improved upon by imagination…

Other people may call that place the Avenue, but I shall always call it the White Way of Delight.”

-From Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery

Connecticut is filled with White Ways of Delight today. Ice coated on every tree in sight, like little surprising gifts of beauty in the rush and stress of life. And though I highly prefer the white cascade of beautiful cherry blossoms hanging overhead instead of this cold weather, I will take it, this beauty found in the icy adversity of winter. For now, I will take it, and appreciate it. And I will hope with ferocity for the ease and warmth, the comfort of summer.

Speaking of books, here’s my Friday Favorite link for you this week:  Audible.com is keeping this household sane and happy during these 4 (!) days in a row off of school. That’s okay; I’ll take that, too  – with a slight grimace, but mostly with thankfulness that our kids are safe here under our cleanly shoveled roof, and not at school under a completely flat roof in danger of collapse. That would cause my mother heart to fear. So we’ll take it, these long, ordinary days- with a little side of Audible.com audio books to keep them happy and laughing at the antics of Jack and Annie, Frank, Joe and Chet, Kaya, the Sackett Brothers, Jigsaw Jones, and Pippi Longstocking.

There’s nothing quite like being in the kitchen and hearing the muffled sound of three kids giggling at their favorite literary characters. It’s even better when I peek in the living room and see them all laying on their stomachs, the iPod on the floor in front of them – the three of them lined up on the rug, six stocking feet raised to access the warmth from the woodstove. Those six feet make my mind happy, my heart thankful, and my throat a little tight. I walk quietly back into the kitchen and have Paul come with me:  “Hon’, come see this.” We stand at the corner of the room, Paul’s head above mine, his chin resting on my head as we peek around the archway, and count our blessings. It feels right, standing there with him watching our children. It feels like my favorite place. It feels like home.

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