Don’t you just love L.M. Montgomery?
I get lost in the beauty of her descriptions and I long for a life like Anne’s: full of wonder, imagination, simplicity, and children.
But, I live in a suburban neighborhood on the central coast of California.
There are many differences.
But this Rainbow Valley they speak of. I want that. I want that for my daughter.
I want her to be like Walter:
“He was gazing now at the emerald-misted willows by the pond, and now at a flock of clouds, like little silver sheep, herded by the wind, that were drifting over Rainbow Valley, with rapture in his wide splendid eyes.”
I want to see that rapture in her eyes.
How does one accomplish that with telephone wires overhead and the sound of cars and sirens in the distance?
It will be a challenge.
But, I am determined.
Determined to create our very own Rainbow Valley.
We may not have acre upon acre of land. We may not have vistas of the sea and the mountains and the valleys beyond.
We may have technology, and college neighbors, and distractions from nature.
However, I believe that Rainbow Valley is more a state of mind than a physical place.
I want my daughter to see beauty in nature, so I will show it to her.
I will let her hands delicately caress the flower petal.
I will let her play with the weed, crawl across the grass, sink her toes into the dirt, stare at the birds up above.
I will take her outdoors as often as I can.
“See how blue the sky is?” I will say.
“Listen to those beautiful birds singing,” I will exclaim.
“What does that cloud look like to you?” I will question.
Imagination can grow anywhere.
I will foster it. I will make our small yard a haven, a lovely place for whimsy and magic.
I will take her beyond the yard. Up mountains, beside creeks, to the ocean’s edge.
She will find rapture. She will delight. She will rock in the hammock and stare at the leaves and simply imagine.
Like her mother did, all those years ago, in her own Rainbow Valley.
She will read and there she can escape to new and wondrous Rainbow Valley’s.
I want this for my daughter.
We may never live on a larger plot of land than we have now. Telephone wires may always stretch across the skyline. Cars may constantly screech by.
But, we won’t know. We will be lost. Lost in our Rainbow Valley.