Thursday, December 18, 2008

white winter hymnal

The snow that cascaded out my window yesterday morning had me feeling wild, untamed. Every fiber in my being yearned to be exploring this newly acquired frosty wonderland where snow angels and arctic foxes ran free. It was if I had been put under a spell, able to explore the land of my dreams for one blissful day. Let’s go find Mr. Tumnus, I proclaimed to my sister as we pulled on our winter jackets sleeve by sleeve and set foot on our first snowy adventure in years.

The lamppost in the woods. We found it, and knew that Narnia had come alive.

Tilly didn't know what to think of the phenomena, a mix of curiosity and terror. Nevertheless, we named her princess of all the forest creatures and she reigned over her barbaric subjects with glee.

I adore these mittens. They remind me of a story that was read to me so long ago about a tiny girl who dropped one of her own favorite mittens in the snow. This would have been very distressing, except that on Christmas night a little field mouse crawled into her mitten and was able to escape the bitter cold. I recall liking the tale, but but feeling sad that the little girl never found out what a service she had done for the mouse.

Porthos, the polar bear. He used to be real, but tragically the White Witch turned him to stone.

I live in the real Stars Hollow. Except there is no disgruntled café owner to fall in love with, to my immense disappointment.

Little orca whales swam by, riding on ferocious winter gales.

Frostbitten and satisfied with our adventures through the wardrobe, my sister and I retreated to the coziness and warmth of the local coffee place. Rich scents of cinnamon and clove wafted up to our nostrils and transported us to some European haunt. Contently, we sipped our hot cocoa as we watched the few remaining flakes descend from the sky. It was Mother Nature’s early Christmas present to us, and we had enjoyed every minute.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

wuthering heights

I’ve always admired fiery women. Why is that determination and ambition, traits that we praise in men, are found to be so repulsive in the gentler sex? Maybe that’s why I love Vivien Leigh so, she wasn’t afraid to go out and conquer her aspirations. She truly was a real life Catherine Earnshaw, Scarlett O’Hara. Tempestuous tantrums, doomed love affair, and all. And the face of an angel. I could stare at her portrait for all eternity and still be stunned by the beauty it captured. Perhaps we will meet in Wonderland someday, finding ourselves journeying on the same imaginary train. Here take this, she’ll say as she hands me a note sealed with wax. Could you please give it to my Larry?

all pictures courtesy of the lovely kendra at viv&larry{dot}com