Yep, I'm hopping aboard the "it's spring!" train.
BECAUSE IT'S SPRING!!!!
And it's beautiful and I love it and aaaaaaah, Spring, where I can wear short sleeves outside and do school outside and be outside and outside outside outside!!!
Ahem.
No case of spring fever here, no siree.
Aaaanyway. I want to share some beauty with you all, courtesty of L. M. Montgomery. She is a master of descriptions.
1. Anne of Green Gables
Marilla, walking home one late April evening from an Aid
meeting, realized that the winter was over and gone with the thrill of delight
that spring never fails to bring to the oldest and saddest as well as to the
youngest and merriest. Marilla was not given to subjective analysis of her
thoughts and feelings. She probably imagined that she was thinking about the
Aids and their missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry room, but under
these reflections was a harmonious consciousness of red fields smoking into
pale-purply mists in the declining sun, of long, sharp-pointed fir shadows
falling over the meadow beyond the brook, of still, crimson-budded maples
around a mirrorlike wood pool, of a wakening in the world and a stir of hidden
pulses under the gray sod. The spring was abroad in the land and Marilla’s
sober, middle-aged step was lighter and swifter because of its deep, primal
gladness.
See??? Even Marilla did not remain untouched by Spring's magic, so don't blame me. :p
(Also isn't L. M. Montgomery's sense of humour perfection? "She probably imagined that she was thinking about the Aids and their missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry room, but under these reflections was..." Haha. Oh, Marilla.)
2. Rainbow Valley
A light rain had been falling all day—a little, delicate,
beautiful spring rain, that somehow seemed to hint and whisper of mayflowers
and wakening violets. The harbour and the gulf and the low-lying shore fields
had been dim with pearl-gray mists. But now in the evening the rain had ceased
and the mists had blown out to sea. Clouds sprinkled the sky over the harbour
like little fiery roses. Beyond it the hills were dark against a spendthrift
splendour of daffodil and crimson. A great silvery evening star was watching
over the bar. A brisk, dancing, new-sprung wind was blowing up from Rainbow
Valley, resinous with the odours of fir and damp mosses.
Okay, seriously, if you didn't think that description was amazingly beautiful, I don't know how to help you.
3. Kilmeny of the Orchard
The sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey
sweet, was showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and the
grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms,
delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing into
life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the windows
of the co-eds’ dressing-room.
A young April wind, as fresh and sweet as if it had been
blowing over the fields of memory instead of through dingy streets, was purring
in the tree-tops and whipping the loose tendrils of the ivy network which
covered the front of the main building. It was a wind that sang of many things,
but what it sang to each listener was only what was in that listener’s heart.
I don't even know what to say about this; it's pure poetry.
4. Anne of Green Gables
Spring had come once more to Green Gables—the beautiful
capricious, reluctant Canadian spring, lingering along through April and May in
a succession of sweet, fresh, chilly days, with pink sunsets and miracles of
resurrection and growth. The maples in Lover’s Lane were red budded and little
curly ferns pushed up around the Dryad’s Bubble. Away up in the barrens, behind
Mr. Silas Sloane’s place, the Mayflowers blossomed out, pink and white stars of
sweetness under their brown leaves. All the school girls and boys had one
golden afternoon gathering them, coming home in the clear, echoing twilight
with arms and baskets full of flowery spoil.
“I’m so sorry for people who live in lands where there are
no Mayflowers,” said Anne.
Aaah isn't it beautiful? You can just see what L. M. Montgomery is describing!!
5. Rilla of Ingleside
Rilla put away her diary and went out to the garden. The
spring evening was very lovely. The long, green, seaward-looking glen was
filled with dusk, and beyond it were meadows of sunset. The harbour was
radiant, purple here, azure there, opal elsewhere. The maple grove was
beginning to be misty green. Rilla looked about her with wistful eyes. Who said
that spring was the joy of the year? It was the heart-break of the year. And
the pale-purply mornings and the daffodil stars and the wind in the old pine
were so many separate pangs of the heart-break. Would life ever be free from
dread again?
"It's good to see P.E.I. twilight once more," said
Walter, joining her. "I didn't really remember that the sea was so blue
and the roads so red and the wood nooks so wild and fairy haunted. Yes, the
fairies still abide here. I vow I could find scores of them under the violets
in Rainbow Valley."
Being Rilla of Ingleside, the description is laced with tragedy. But it is oh, so beautiful.
6. Rilla of Ingleside (again)
When the bitter dawn came she rose and went to her window. Below her was a big apple-tree, a great swelling cone of rosy blossom. Walter had planted it years ago when he was a little boy. Beyond Rainbow Valley there was a cloudy shore of morning with little ripples of sunrise breaking over it. The far, cold beauty of a lingering star shone above it. Why, in this world of springtime loveliness, must hearts break?
Aaah, my heart!
Now if you don't think L. M. Montgomery has a positive gift with words and descriptions, you are no longer welcome here. Haha. Just kidding. (Kind of)
I hope you all are enjoying Spring, except for dear Miss Evie (for those of you who are not so fortunate as to have met that lady's acquaintance, I beg you do not think I mean her any ill will, but simply that it is not springtime where she lives :).
I hope you all are enjoying Spring, except for dear Miss Evie (for those of you who are not so fortunate as to have met that lady's acquaintance, I beg you do not think I mean her any ill will, but simply that it is not springtime where she lives :).
