Reading is its own simple magic – the power of stringing letters into words, puzzling them together until a thought is formed into something so concrete as a sentence. If it’s done right, the journey between a story’s first word and its last can weave a spell over even the most reluctant literature enthusiast.
I have vague memories of reading One Foot Two Foot Red Foot Blue Foot with my dad, others of sweet summers spent laying on the porch swing, pillow tucked beneath my head, as I plunged into the well-worn pages of a library book, and still others of frigid winters tucked into one of the well-worn armchairs in the living room, attempting to perfect the method of both cocooning myself in blankets while paging through the book in my lap.
The inspiration for this blog is a nonsense poem-turned-picture book that my dad used to read to me when I was a kid: The Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear.
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.’”
Whether its a well-researched magazine article, a witty picture book or dense Russian prose, I am ever the bookworm. The Pea Green Bookshelf is a love letter to stories – those I’ve read, those I’m reading, and those that I continue to add to the ever-growing “to-do” list.