The story of the old book......

once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a woman who loved things that were old. she was not very old herself, but something about old things drew her heart to them and made her feel like a child by surrounding herself with these charming old things. one day, as she sat in her quiet room, she looked about herself at all the things she had gathered about her and she wondered if she could write a story about her things. so she began to walk about her house, thinking about a story and about how she could go about writing a fable that could someday bring a smile to a person or two. she looked at her old, tattered couch and said to herself outloud, (thinking that perhaps maybe the birds outside might hear her or maybe even the mice behind the walls; she was very lonely, so she did indeed hope that the mice and birds heard her talking outloud). "what a wonderful, old couch this is!", the woman said outloud. "perhaps one day, i will find some nice fabric and fix the tattered places; but i do so love the way it is now."

she looked at her beautiful birdcage on the wall. "what a lovely little bird you are, my dear friend. maybe today i can take you outside in the garden, if you won't fly away!"

the woman marveled at the wonderful little house she had found one day at an obscure little shop in France; the little person at the door of the house was so cute and charming. "who was she waiting for", the woman asked herself. "i wish i had such a lovely little house".

but she also loved another house she had collected on another day, when she had ventured down a funny little road on a hot summer day in England. there, in a quaint little, run down barn, she had discovered the funny little, rustic house, so she had happily attached it to the tree in her garden. the birds loved it and often, in the winter, they would hide quietly within the walls of the little house.

the woman was growing tired, so she slowly drew an old book from her shelf of books. it was one of her most cherished books; she loved the old print and the lovely feel and scent of it's pages. the print reminded her of history and memories, especially of old towns and villages in Boston or Cambridge....she had waundered their streets many years before, marveling at the wondrous, beautiful old buildings and streets. the woman sat by the cozy, warm fire, quietly dreaming of many things, many journeys and friends and happy times. the flames in the fire danced like little children; the light was bright and beautiful.

the next day, the little lady woke up and did her washing, walking out later to hang the pretty clothes along the line that stretched from tree to tree in her lovely yard. she loved her garden. so thick was the foliage and the plants. she felt safe and happy in her garden; it was quiet and beautiful.

back in her sunporch, she sat and watched the birds in the front yard. they were happily splashing in the birdbath as if the world would never end. the woman looked about her sunporch, thinking again about all the pretty things she had gathered over the years. on one wall, there was a lovely little shelf she had found in Switzerland one winter. noone had wanted it. she thought perhaps it was left there just for her; why would anyone had not wanted such a pretty thing. she had brought it home, carrying it on the train and then the coach so that it would not break or become lost. when she brought it into her sunporch, she knew right away where she would put it. later, she had set her lovely wooden ducks on the top of it and attached a funny little bottle she had found. "it is a very charming scene", she said to herself, (still hoping the birds and the mice were listening outside and behind the walls).

the next day, the little woman decided to go shopping (it was her favorite thing to do, if you haven't guessed all ready!) "i think i will walk to the shops, today. it is such a beautiful day; why would i miss walking on such a lovely day!" (one of the smallest mice behind the living room wall perked up, suddenly, when he heard the woman talk about going for a walk. "maybe i can quietly go into the kitchen to find that piece of cheese", he said to himself; of course the woman couldn't hear him......mice talk so softly, nearly always in a whisper).

the woman took her handbag and her little yellow sweater with the sequins and shiney beads on it and walked down the path towards the shops. she just knew she would find something quite exquisite that day; she just had "that" feeling.

two hours later, she walked back down her path, carry five big parcels, all wrapped in lovely packaging; a few of them even had been given ribbons to hold them together, they were filled so full with purchases!! in her pretty room, she slowly opened the boxes, marveling again at the beautiful, delicate blouses that she had found at her favorite shop. stacking them ever so neatly and perfectly on the shelf in her armoire, she stood back to admire how beautiful they were.

the next day, she felt creative. she decided to make a face. she didn't know where the idea had come from, or the inspiration or the image she had in her mind, but after a few hours, she set the sculpture she had made on the wall outside her window......a part of her garen she rarely visited. "i must do something to brighten this corner of my garden", she said (to anyone who was listening). "there, that looks so beautiful!! i can't believe it is so pretty and looks so perfect there!"

"i think i will work in my garden for a little while", she said. she went into her potting shed and found her favorite gardening shoes. "these are so old, but i just do not have the heart to throw them away! i have planted so many flowers with these wonderful, old shoes; weeded so many rows of vegetables and walked so many miles around my yard in these shoes, these old friends". she smiled just looking at them, chuckling at their worn out, happy attitude.

"i miss the forest, though". she remembered an old poem that she had heard one time. she had been at an afternoon tea at a friend's house. they were talking about literature and history and old books and suddenly one of the women began to recite a beautiful poem that she had remembered all of her life. everyone had grown so quiet as they listened to her share the sweet and memorable lines of the poem. "a breath from the forest......", the woman at the tea said the words almost as if she were somewhere else. the woman stood in her old, tattered gardening shoes, recalling the rest of the words of the beautiful poem......."a breath from the forest are the quiet steps of a gentle deer as it waunders cautiously amid the ferns and moss". she almost looked as if tears were about to fall from her eyes, but then a faint, delicate smile drew upon her face. "what a beautiful day that was".

it had been a long day, but a beautiful day. the woman went inside her house. she walked into her studio, her library where she loved to work on her paintings, her drawings and stories. she loved to sit and read there and look out the window. it was a lovely room. she decided she would rest for a while on the couch. her eyes nearly closed when suddenly she heard someone call her name. "Nanna! Nanna! We're here!" She suddenly awoke as if someone had turned on every lamp and light in her house! Such a bright sound......the sound of children......especially those whose hearts brighten yours like a wonderful, summer sun!! She ran to the door and there they all were! Such happiness, nothing like this happiness!!!

I just decided to try writing a story using these wonderful pictures that I found in some library books I had checked out recently. They inspired me so much. I dreamed of living in the life of these pictures, pretending my life was surrounded by these beautiful, lovely things. Isn't it amazing how beauty transforms us, how it touches our souls so much that we can dream and not even be there in reality. Just the thoughts of being somewhere beautiful, or seeing something beautiful can bring us such incredible joy!! I am so thankful that I can appreciate beauty and let it touch my heart!!!