"Where you tend a rose, my lad, a thistle cannot grow."

October 14, 2009

In our homeschool, we read. A lot.

I have been reading Preston & Abbi The Secret Garden. I am so loving this book! You have no idea! It is written so beautifully. The characters are endearing and vulnerable and sweet. The setting makes me want to crawl into the story and live it myself.

Getting lost in this book with Preston & Abbi makes me remember why reading quality literature that has stood the test of time is our number one priority.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes, I am troubled that their spelling does not seem up to par. I wonder if putting off our grammar work (blaaaachh!) for another day is going to put them so far behind that they'll never catch up. Which means they won't know how to talk...or write...right?? I worry that they aren't doing enough "work" because we are always reading.

Then we are blessed by a story like this one.

A story that changes us, makes us better people somehow....a story that becomes a part of who we are....forever.

This type of story calms my fretful heart. It reassures. It inspires.

Each time that I settle down to read with the children, it is a special occasion...we are exchanging gifts.

We are celebrating life.

These memories will be treasured always.

They will live in the secret garden of my heart.

Here is an example of why on earth I would feel the desire blog about this particular book:

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever.

One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising sun---which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years.

One knows it then for a moment or so.

And so one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries.

Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in someone's eyes.

And it was like that with Colin when he first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden. That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy.

Perhaps out of pure heavenly goodness the spring came and crowded everything it possibly could into that one place.

from The Secret Garden

by Frances Hodgson Burnett