Reading All Summer

Tonight, a little boy told me that he read all summer, instead of playing games. Now, he says, he is a very good reader. I believe him.

When I was ten years old, I became vividly interested in reading. Even though I always loved books, this was the time when my love of reading really started to blossom. I read, of course, from my mother's collection of novels and magazines. My selection included authors like Stephen King, George Orwell, Farley Mowat and the Omni magazines. From the school's library, I brought home books almost every week--books like R.L Stine's Goosebumps and Fear Street.

I once spent a whole summer reading Stephen King. I finished "It," "Christine," "The Tommyknockers" and "Four Past Midnight" before I turned eleven.  Once I started reading, I could not bare to stop the story until I finished it. My mouth sometimes tumbled over difficult words; my mind, equally frazzled, sometimes tumbled over the  images that King's words procured in my mind. But my mind had to have it.

At that young age, it seems, I discovered the seductive power of language, of stories and of imagination. I hope, that I can also bring to life the imagination of a child with stories, with words, with language. Maybe not with horror stories, though?

A Sunday Walk

A small blue heart I spotted, lying on the ground. It was actually a turquoise pendant, the missing piece to a necklace. I found it in my front yard. And, actually, its the missing piece to one of my necklaces. Its quite alright, though--I gave it to my daughter so she could use it for "treasure."

 My daughters, walking slightly ahead of me. I love this neighbourhood. I love the way the trees form a canopy over top of the houses, the street.

 One of three houses that are up for sale on our block.

 Poor little creature. I saw this bird as I was walking by a street corner. My daughters asked me why I was taking a picture of a dead bird. Because it was sad, I told them. But, I don't really know why. I just needed to take the picture--how do I explain that, even to myself?

 A streetpost. Should I go into further detail?

  Just some tall grass, a few flowers. I thought it would make a nice picture.

  A small shoeprint in the cement.  A future fossil, perhaps?

  My daughter found a ladybug. It was a quick little fellow. But we managed to snap his picture before he flew away.

  You can see these everywhere.  A tree just can't simply be a tree anymore.

 There is beauty everywhere. This is just down the street from where I live. An organic health food store. The entrance has a red picnic table to the left, a bench with peeling white paint, just to the left. The sunflowers were already starting to dry out. Still, bees continued to hover around what remained, gathering what was left of the summer's bounty.