This morning, for no particular reason, I was hit with a wave of longing for Patricia Coombs’s Dorrie the Little Witch books. Man, I loved those books when I was little. I was sure we had a few here, but I can’t find them. How is that possible? Dorrie’s the classic well-meaning character who keeps getting into terrible scrapes; the fact that her muddles are magical ones ups the fun quotient enormously.
Hmm…we were going through the costume stash the other day and found a pair of long red-and-white-striped stockings (from a Pippi Longstocking outfit, maybe?). Maybe they reminded me of Dorrie, who beat Punky Brewster to the mismatched socks look by twenty years.
Rilla’s just the right age. Library trip ahoy.
Booklog November 2013
Guernsey Literary Society Open Thread
The Month That Ate My Brain