Not quite so girlie

I've already finished "Anne of Green Gables," and while it may just be young adult lit, it got some very adult thoughts going through my head.

The book is set about 1870 in a farming community on Prince Edward Island. While I know it glosses over the hardships of Victorian life, I find myself wishing my life was more like that. I'm a very smart woman, but they had so much practical knowledge. They canned, made all their breads, raised their livestock, grew their vegetables, and could name just about any plant under the sun. They were so connected to the natural world, to the rhythms of the seasons and the weather. I'm amazed by the lavish descriptions of little hollows and wooded paths, even when I can't begin to picture the fauna they're talking about. If some monumental natural disaster or nuclear winter ever occured that shut down our interstate/international economy, I would probably wind up among the dead. All I can grow is zinnias and petunias, and while I make a lot of my food from scratch, I'd hardly know where to begin if I couldn't buy my staples at a megastore. Our Earth has just become earth; we have lost so much wisdom and destroyed so many resources by our vanity and ignorance.

I also found myself wondering at the blackness or their nights. We had Abigail out a bit late last night, and when we got out of the car at home, I eagerly pointed out a star, which she doesn't often see. Of course, I knew that given our well lit parking lot, that sparkle was no doubt a satelite. My poor little girl has no idea what the actual sky looks like -- she was no doubt very confused when we went to a planetarium a while back. I myself have a very limited concept of the sky. I know the main constellations and a few minor ones thanks to a very late night under the stars on a Clemson rugby field. And I have seen the Milky Way and understand its monniker: The Buxton clan held a party for my grandpa's 80th birthday more than 10 years ago now, way out at the ancestral homestead in rural Missouri. My sister and I had just come back from an evening in St. Louis, and we were transfixed in the driveway by the stars. My suburban youth gave me no inkling that so much existed overhead.

We're so isolated in our modern world, it's scary. We have bottles and cans full of chemicals guaranteed to clean our homes, but what are they doing to us? We exercise in gyms, maybe stopping at a park to walk, but we have no idea what the world around is actually like. It's so sad.

But despite it's wholesome lifestyle and oodles of romanticism, I won't be finishing the Anne series again. The first book is always my favorite, follwed by the eighth, and I just don't have time to read all the others in between. I skimmed "Anne of Avonlea," and while I remember every scene, it just didn't call to me like "Green Gables." So away they go again on a shelf, waiting for my little one to hit about 10 and discover their magic. But time for just one more quote, one of my favorites and why I always thought I was a romantic (until I encountered Byron's "Don Juan"):

"... perhaps ... perhaps ... love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath." -- Anne of Avonlea