While I loved those books, the attention span of an adolescent and teenager isn't that long, and I didn't actually come back to or reread the series until just a couple years ago.You see, its rare, but sometimes I get burnt out with living in the city. On any given day, I love it, but something inside me resonates with trees and fields and barns and snug houses and quiet, steady people. It's home for me. And, I don't know what inspired me to do it, but I picked up Anne of Green Gables and read it again, drinking in this time the descriptions of the countryside and the sweet conversations of the characters--really thinking out their relationships with each other and their land. L.M. Montgomery's writing sort of filled up that resonating hole that sometimes gets a little too big with missing my home.
So, a couple weeks ago, I bought the new anniversary edition of Anne of Green Gables, since I had loaned out my other copy. And I'm reading it again.
Here's a little excerpt from Anne's House of Dreams (the fifth book in the series) that I love:
"Silence and twilight fell over the garden. Far away the sea was lapping gently and monotonously on the bar. The wind of evening in the poplars sounded like some sad, weird, old rune--some broken dream of old memories. A slender shapely young aspen rose up before them against the fine maize and emerald and paling rose of the western sky, which brought out every leaf and twig in dark, tremulous, elfin loveliness.
"'Isn't that beautiful?' said Owen, pointing to it with the air of a man who puts a certain conversation behind him.
"'It's so beautiful that it hurts me,' said Anne softly. 'Perfect things like that always did hurt me--I remember I called it 'the queer ache' when I was a child. What is the reason that pain like this seems inseparable from perfection? Is it the pain of finality--when we realise that there can be nothing beyond but retrogression?'
"'Perhaps,' said Owen dreamily, 'it is the prisoned infinite in us calling out to its kindred infinite as expressed in that visible perfection.'"