And the winner is…commenter #18: Emily!
Congratulations on winning a three-month subscription to Wisteria and Sunshine. I’ll be in touch soon with details!
Thanks to all who entered the drawing. I hope some of the rest of you will give W&S a try too. I’d love to see you there.
Comments are off
Whyyyy do I have such difficulty committing to the next-book-to-read? It’s the embarrassment of riches, isn’t it: too many choices, too much beguiling me. My pile is scandalous. Green Dolphin Street came in via interlibrary loan; I have three weeks (no, two and a half, now) before it must go back, no renewal possible, so it is the clear and obvious first choice, yes?
But the print is so tiny and my attention wanders, much as I long to fall in. This is a problem more and more, even with reading glasses. I’m utterly spoiled by the enlargeable fonts on my Kindle. Scott teases me about the billboard-sized letters I favor.
But oh, this pile of books beside me! Lovely, whispery, papery books! And then about fifty of ’em on my Kindle. Egad. I’m almost at the point of stabbing blindly at the touchscreen and pledging myself to whatever tome I land on.
Can you call them tomes when they’re made of digital sparkle?
***
This was meant to be my June booklist roundup. Obstreperous thing, it says No, I think I’ll be another post entirely, thanks.
***
Freshman year of college—tiny liberal arts school dominated by its conservatory theater program, in which I was enrolled as an acting major—a required course was “Focus on the Fine Arts,” an amorphous art appreciation concoction involving short rotations with art, music, theater, and dance professors. It culminated in a grand production written, set-designed, choreographed, composed, and performed by the entire hapless freshman class—including the nursing majors, the business majors, the future journalists and psychologists and historians. Our assignment was to write a modern adaptation of Faust. The thing was a hot mess, and we all knew it—what could we do? Everyone was assigned a role outside his or her specialty, the theory being that this would “stretch” us. It was decreed that the area in which I needed most stretching, literally and figuratively, was in dance. Our choreography was rather freeform, only my form wasn’t terribly free. It would take a generous definition to call my ameoba-like oozings “dancing,” but in fairness to my poor uncoordinated limbs, it must be said that it was another vast stretch to call our accompaniment “music.” Much of my group’s star dance number took place against a backdrop of voices (each of them presumably selected because singing was the area in which they needed most stretching, so you see the difficulty we were all up against) chanting—relentlessly, ceaselessly, tonelessly—Choi-ces, choi-ces… Two notes, low high, over and over. Choices. Choices. Those words, those notes, burrowed deep into my psyche and chew at my brain to this day. I rummage through the book pile, lifting one, flipping through another, and in the back of my mind, those voices are chanting. Choi-ces. Choi-ces. Is it any wonder I flail and contort, performing graceless mental gyrations in my efforts to settle upon one single solid choice? I’m an amoeba, oozing my way around the pile, enfolding them all, unswallowing one here and there, absorbing, pouring myself in six directions at once. Forget Faust, this is Hamlet I’m playing, stuck pondering the options, vulnerable to outside forces thrusting a choice upon me at last.
All of which is to say, I can’t decide what to read next.
***
A hyperdeveloped sense of justice compels me to add that I carried some memorable connections away from that class, ridiculous as its extremes were. It was there I first met Liszt and Klimt, and there I encountered more of Handel’s Messiah than the Hallelujah chorus. And, well, I did read Faust.
***
On the other hand, in our “adaptation” (a generously applied word), the devil’s name was Mimi Tofless. Mimi. I ask you.
***
Enough of this nonsense! Go leave a comment on yesterday’s post, if you haven’t already, to enter the Wisteria and Sunshine giveaway. Lesley Austin has much more sensible things to say than I.
In February of 2005, when Bonny Glen was just a few weeks old, I wrote:
When I was setting up this blog, I created a category called “Things that Inspire Me” with Small Meadow Press in mind…
…and Lesley Austin’s peaceful presence and lovely way of looking at home life have been inspiring me daily since then. There are Small Meadow touches all over my house: the “Peace Be on This House” garland hanging between living room and kitchen; the little stash of stationery (now almost gone, alas) in my correspondence basket; the small, handmade notebooks tucked into every bag I own; the calm brown binders I use for organizing paperwork; the quotation prints here and there about the house, framed or hung up with a ribbon.
I was sad when Lesley closed Small Meadow, though I well understand the necessary changes that come with new seasons of life. But with the closing of that door, Lesley opened a new one—a vine-covered door like the one into The Laurels or the Secret Garden, with a sundrenched radiance inside. Since its beginning, I’ve been a member at Wisteria and Sunshine, Lesley’s subscription-based blog and forum for exploring “wild simplicity and deep domesticity,” and in these swift months it has become not only one of my favorite corners of the internet, but practically a way of life.
Each day at W&S, there is a new post from Lesley, sometimes two, discussing—in her exquisite prose, so lyrical it’s almost poetry—topics related to home and hearth, simplifying, decluttering, making one’s home-spaces lovely with simple, graceful touches. Some days she writes about a beloved author (it’s Lesley whom I have to thank for inspiring me to read The Scent of Water) or a book we’re enjoying together—right now it’s Wise Child. Some days she shares a thought-provoking quote, inviting discussion. What she has created at W&S is rather remarkable: a close-knit community of women working together to cultivate an atmosphere of peace, joy, and order in our homes. Each month Lesley chooses a focus: a particular corner of the house (she did wonders for my bathrooms and even my closets!) or a particular corner of the soul, you might say. During the wild rush of my spring—nose-deep in my novel, busybusybusy with the blur of six growing children—I found I was approaching my housework with genuine calm and more joy than I’ve ever taken in it. And the changes have stuck. I actually enjoy cleaning my bathroom.
The name, of course, comes from Enchanted April, one of my favorite movies of all time. For those who appreciate wisteria and sunshine, reads the ad that captures Lottie’s imagination and sets off that whole wonderful series of transformations. And just as the wisteria-and-sunshine garden of that Italian villa infuses its visitors with light and renewal and contentment that they carry back into the outside world, so too does the W&S forum. Can you tell I love it? I truly love it.
The monthly subscription fee is modest, and Lesley more than earns it with the hard work she puts into making the site nourishing, useful, welcoming, and beautiful; and I’ve also come to feel like the small commitment leads to a camaraderie and…hm, I started to say seriousness, but I don’t mean in any way grave or somber, I mean nontrivial, mindful, engaged…among the members. I have so enjoyed getting to know the other forum members, and having a closer connection with the handful of friends I’d already known.
Lesley, ever generous, has graciously offered a free three-month gift subscription to a Bonny Glen reader. Now, I have to tell you this delights me on multiple levels: one, because I want to see W&S grow and thrive, and I think you really have to experience it to grasp what riches it offers; and two, because I love my Bonny Glen readers and this means at least one of you will get to join us in the garden. (I would be thrilled if more of you decide to give it a try, even if you don’t win the giveaway.)
To enter, leave a comment on this post before 11pm Pacific time on Wednesday, July 4th. I’ll use a random-number generator to draw a name on Thursday morning. Spread the word!
For a peek at each month’s topics (and a sense of the beauty and tone of the site), visit the open-to-all blog Wisteria and Sunshine Tidings.
Photos by Lesley Austin
