back to their cuddle

“Why, any one can make up things,” she said. “Have you ever tried?”

She put her hand warningly on Emengarde’s.

“Let us go very quietly to the door,” she whispered, “and then I will open it quite suddenly, perhaps we may catch her.”

She has half laughing, but there was a touch of mysterious hope in her eyes which, fascinated Emengarde, though she had not the remotest idea what it meant, or whom it was she wanted to “catch,” or why she wanted to catch her. Whatsoever she meant, Emengarde was sure it was something delightfully exciting. So, quite thrilled with expectation, she followed her on tiptoe along the passage. They made not the least noise until they reached the door. Then Sara suddenly turned the handle, and threw it wide open. Its opening revealed the room quite neat and quiet, a fire gently burning in the grate, and a wonderful doll sitting in a chair by it, apparently reading a book.

“Oh, she got back to her seat before we could see her?”

Sara exclaimed, “Oh course they always do. They are as quick as lightning.”

Emengarde looked from her to the doll and back again.

“Can she — walk?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” answered Sara. “At least I believe she can. At least I pretend I believe she can. And that makes it seem as if it were true. Have you ever pretended things?”

~Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

lens-artists photo challenge: winter

The Plum-blossom is the first of the “hundred flowers” to open. It symbolizes the beginnings of things, and is also one of the “three friends” who do not fear Winter’s cold, the other two being the pine and the bamboo.

cited: Fir-Flower Tablets Poems Translated from the Chinese Trans: Florence Ayscough & Amy Lowell Project Gutenberg

A Winter night, a cold Winter night. To me, the night is unending.

I chant heavily to myself a long time. I sit, sit in the North Hall.

The water in the well is solid with ice. The moon enters the Women’s Apartments.

The flame of the gold lamp is very small, the oil is frozen. It shines on the misery of my weeping. ~Li t’ai-Poa Woman Sings to the Air: “Sitting at Night Fir-Flower”

excerpt: Trans: Florence Ayscough & Amy Lowell Fir-Flower Tablets Poems Translated from the Chinese Project Gutenberg

First snow! I see it young every winter, 
Yet my face grows old 
As Winter comes. ~ The Diary of Izumi Shikibu

cited: Trans: Annie Shepley Omori & Kochi Doi Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan

This week’s lens-artists photo challenge – winter – is sponsored by Leya