Anne, Peter & Ratty

In a previous post I mentioned that I often think of my childhood when walking the pond. If I'm not thinking about my childhood, it's quite possible that I'm thinking about a book. When the flora and fauna remind me of specific characters or settings, I can't help but be swept away into the land of story.

Naturally, the wild cherry tree dipping benevolently across my path reminded me of dear Anne Shirley and her first exchange with Mr. Matthew Cuthbert:

I'm very glad to see you. I was beginning to be afraid you weren't coming for me and I was imagining all the things that might have happened to prevent you. I had made up my mind that if you didn't come for me to-night I'd go down the track to that big wild cherry-tree at the bend, and climb up into it to stay all night. I wouldn't be a bit afraid, and it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine, don't you think?

~Anne of Green Gables~

The trees are no longer "white with bloom in the moonshine." Indeed, the fruit is already maturing nicely. I noticed the same on a wild crab apple tree.

After I passed beneath the cherry boughs, a skittish fellow darted across the path. He didn't appreciate the camera, so we'll just have to work with this image of naughty Peter Rabbit heading toward Mr. McGregor's garden.

Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, 

went down the lane to gather blackberries. But Peter, who was very naughty, 

ran straight away to Mr. McGregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate!

~The Tale of Peter Rabbit~ 

The white tail that flashed into view as the rabbit leapt away might have suggested that this was not Peter after all, but Cotton-tail; he was heading toward the blackberry bushes. (Which, incidentally, are still "white with bloom.") But upon my return (I thought I might catch him on my second lap), he had "squeezed under the gate!" No doubt in pursuit of "some lettuces and French beans."

Because I was in literary mode, the mother duck and her ducklings brought to mind Ratty's composition in Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows:

The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had just composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it . . . .

All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling, 
Up tails all!

The song meanders a bit and, according to Mole, "I don't know that I think so very much of that little song, Rat," so we'll just include one stanza.

A brief visit to my log before heading home provided a few minutes of quiet. I even brought a book this time, and I'm enjoying the third of James Herriot's delightful veterinary tales, All Things Wise and Wonderful.

How glad I am that "the Lord God made them all," and that He gifted us with the delightful world of story.