An Imagination

“I can make allowance for you, Mr. Harrison, because I have an imagination. I can easily imagine how very trying it must be to find a cow in your oats and I shall not cherish any hard feelings against you for the things you’ve said…”

Anne of Avonlea, L. M. Montgomery

Yes, an imagination. ‘Tis a precious thing, and I am quite thankful and glad for mine.

What is an imagination? It’s a candle you take the time to burn, a tree you bother to prune, a cucumber garden you trouble yourself to water. It lightens your life, it shades you from the heat of the world, it’s a sweet relief at the end of the day.

Some people don’t have an imagination, and I must say, it is quite sad to watch. People who have no imagination, I have to say, aren’t bad people. I suppose in some ways it shields them from certain mischief—But in other ways, I am sorry for them. Have you ever noticed that people with imaginations have a certain spark in their eyes, that glimmers when they talk, draws you into what they’re saying? You can almost see the Poppies of Possibility sprouting up in their mind, swaying Dorothy to take root and stay.

An imagination is a special thing, and I just had to say that I thank God for mine, and hope you are equally grateful for yours, dear friends.


9 thoughts on “An Imagination

  1. You know you get brownie points for referencing Anne Shirley. Bonus brownie points for the thrill of happy recognition I felt at the sight of the accompanying image. And straight-up brownies for anyone with imagination to conjure ’em up. *nom, nom, nom…*

    • Yay! Brownie points, brownie points, and brownies…Looks like it’s going to be a good day!

      I just finished reading Anne of Green Gables, now I’m on to the sequel. The books have absolutely no plot but the writing is so gripping and Anne is so fascinating you just have to keep reading. Well, I mean only if you have an imagination. I can totally see an unimaginative person going, “This is pointless…”

      • Aye, I’ve read much by L.M. Montgomery, and “stuff happening” seemed to have been a tertiary concern of hers, the people the stuff happened to and the language she used to convey the world being the primary and secondary goals (and not necessarily in that order). I tended to skip over most of the flowery descriptions of setting, but other than that, greatly enjoyed her stories.

      • I agree, and unfortunately, I have a few tertiary concerns in my novels that probably make them seem boring to other people. (And yes, sometimes me.) I love watching people. And thinking. Wayyy too much.

    • Why thank you for your kind words, Tiyana.

      They are a lit cabin in a dark forest of conspiring pines.

      They brighten my day as the sun peeking through languid cumulonimbuses, as “a raisin burning in brandy.” (Okay, I must give the credit of that last bit to Lewis Carroll…)

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