Willard library

...Is located in a pasture a few miles beyond Lake Griffy. After an inspiring rehearsal yesterday, I called two close friends and invited myself over. We stood at the base of what will soon be a pole barn--huge. She and he discussed dimensions, straw and timeline while I sat in the warm December sun.
We decided to hike back through their property, quiet with only the crunching of leaves under our feet, occasionally commenting on a passing bird, identifying a tree or the enormous horse piles scattered like landmines. My mind was free.

After several miles, we arrived at a small log cabin. And further still there was a quaint green cabin with a bright blue door and a gold door knob. This was Willard Library. The shelves were stacked with mostly children's books, many of which are Newbery Medal winners. Some were ages old. The room reminded me of my grandmother's attic--a treasure full of old toys and books. We stayed and read a few books aloud and watched the sun set through the pained window. I checked out a few books for my daughter--in good faith that I will return them.

Ari explained the history of the library and the generosity of the old man who built it. The library was a cross between something out of Rand's Anthem and The Darling Family Bedroom--Peter Pan. We tracked back, passing the horses that helped to carry the materials out to this desolate space--their hooves as big around as my thighs.

Upon our return, we drank hard cider. Ari played his mandolin, I played guitar.
I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my Sunday.

Ask me about the 4 D's: Dancing, Dating, Dramatics, Debating... Lolita