Seasons and Windows

October 11, 2007 at 4:33 pm 4 comments

In the book after which this blog is named, there is the story of a girl in a beautiful white room. Her bed is white, the table is white, there is a soft white rug on the floor. Her silky, pale curtains shimmer like moonlight. She is happy. But in the garden outside her window, the winter slowly gives way to spring. Bluebells swarm beneath the oak tree, and the sky blazes above them. Oh, she sighs. If only I could have a blue room. Then I would have all I desire. A sprite, overhearing her, decides to grant her wish. The walls and the cushions and the embroidered couch in her room blush suddenly into myriad shades of blue: sky blue and cobalt and saphire, and her curtains are edged with the deep blue of the evening just before it gives way to black. Oh, she sighs, I am happy, I have all I desire. But outside, the sun shines, and the leaves ripen, and the world changes…

Months later, she sits in a bronze and copper room, gilded with gold. Its warmth and glow had once seemed all she would ever need. But – outside, the snow begins to fall, silently covering the garden. Oh, she sighs, if only I could have a room as white as snow, only then would I be content. The sprite, by now, is fed up. Now, you ungrateful wench, I will grant your wish, she snaps. And the room disappears. The girl shivers in the snow.

If you check this story against the original, I have probably misremembered the details. The beauty of this story was in the details: the descriptions of luxurious fabrics, the colours, the light. So, in honour of this story, I now have all the seasons. I have collected them in Northern Hemisphere trees. They remain a novelty to me, as does the sharpness of the air here, and the tone of the light.

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Entry filed under: bookroom.

Speaking of Yevtushenko The Solid Mandala

4 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Radioactive Man  |  October 11, 2007 at 5:30 pm

    There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle-ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone.

  • 2. robi-d  |  October 12, 2007 at 1:15 pm

    I love the trees and the seasons, and sigh in recognition and agreement with radioactive man’s comments.
    But Oh, like the girl in the story, I did love the richness of the blue background to this littlebookroom blog too!

  • 3. Eva  |  October 13, 2007 at 7:21 am

    This sounds like a really neat story! I’ll have to look for it.

    I love the “You ungrateful wench!” part of your retelling. 😉

  • 4. meli  |  October 14, 2007 at 6:01 pm

    radioactive: yes.
    robi-d: some people are never satisfied!
    eva: retelling it was fun. i guess i should have actually revealed who wrote the book: Eleanor Farjeon.

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