Grace

I have four books fewer to read for my Newbery quest. (By the way: I realized that I have misspelled Newbery in my previous posts...however, at this point I am not taking the time to go back to change them all. I'm hoping for grace.)

Speaking of grace, which reminds me of love, I have always loved gardenias. Daddy used to give Mom a gardenia corsage every Easter, and the first year I was old enough to wear a flower without trying to eat it, he gave me a gardenia wristlet. Gardenias bring back lovely memories of my parents. I was at a friend's house the other day, and her gardenia bush was thriving. Mine was not. She cut a small bouquet for me, and graced me with memories.

Beneath the gift of grace are the four books- all non-fiction. The two poetry books spoke of insects and the fantastical residents of William Blake's Inn. The folk tale collection told stories of South America, and was written just like a story-teller would speak. The history book was longer than any book I ever read as a child! The book won the first award in 1922. It took me forever to read it- I cannot imagine a young person plowing through over almost 500 pages of the creation and politics and economics and revolutions through millions of years and zillions of kings and battles and governments and treaties up until the Great War! (I did read, however about a certain "disgusting" King Ferdinand VII of Spain who knit garments for statues while in prison! I tried to google more information, but could not find anything.) Subsequent chapters of more recent man since WWI has been updated by other historians. To be honest, I did not read "the rest of the story."

Grace happened again: my gardenia bush bloomed, several weeks after I had given up all hope. Thanks, God.

Now, if someone would just invent an app for a "smell-o-blog," I could share the sweet scent of memories!