by Sonja Hakala

Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.—Gary Snyder

“Are you sure having the book club meeting outside is a good idea?” Ruth Goodwin asked as she scanned clouds of varying shades of gray scudding over the sky above the gazebo on Carding’s common. “Dirt Road Radio’s weather folks said that…”

“I know, I know,” Edie said as she looked at the library perched on the edge of the green. “But the heat and humidity and the bugs trapped us inside nearly all summer long and I just want to be able to enjoy a wee bit of nature before the cold drives us back inside. Though after this summer, I must confess I am quite ready for winter.”

“Hear, hear,” Denise Digby said as she climbed the three steps up to the stage in the gazebo that sheltered musicians during the town’s summer concerts. “And I sincerely hope we get some snow before the daffodils come up again. Last winter was ridiculous—no snow in February and lots in April. It’s like the whole calendar has shifted over a month or two.” 

Ruth and Edie eyed the heavy book bag dangling from Denise Digby’s hand, both of them hoping it wasn’t more Stephen King novels. Neither one of them had ever acquired Denise’s taste in scary books. For her part, Denise struggled to suppress a smirk at their open display of curiosity. “Won’t they be surprised,” she thought.

Flip, flip, flip, whisper, flip, flip. The Tennyson sisters, who now wanted to be called Ginger (aka Flora Mae) and Goldie (birth name Mary Beth), fluttered across the green toward the gazebo, their hands full of books. The Tennysons were the largest family in Carding, and most folks had long ago lost track of the cousin-ly relations among its many branches. I daresay that the Tennysons have probably lost track as well. But let me give you an overview of the current family situation.

There are at least five Tennyson family homesteads in Carding, the biggest and most prosperous being the farm owned by Leland and his wife Christine up on Belmont Hill. The oldest homestead is a substantial but rather worn colonial on the green next door to Edie Wolfe’s house. Due to a tangle of wills and a history of dubious heirs, Number 6, The Green in Carding, Vermont is never occupied for long except in the summer when the Tennyson twins show up to squat there. Longstanding disputes keep the rest of the family quietly at arm’s length so “Ginger” and “Goldie” have free rein to stay as long as they like without bothering about a mortgage or rent.

“Look what we found,” Ginger tootled as they neared the gazebo.

“We’ve been in the attic,” Goldie explained. “Such treasures!”

The twins nearly dropped their armfuls of old books on the gazebo’s stage as they staggered up the steps. Everyone craned to have a look as more book club members crowded up behind the Tennysons. “Nancy Drews,” Agnes Findley said as she fingered a dusty volume until it opened at the copyright page. “Oh my, look at this. It’s an original published in 1937.”

“And would you look at how yellow that paper is,” Edie said. “I’d turn the pages carefully on that one. They’re sure to be brittle.”

“Or beyond brittle,” Aggie said as a chip of paper came away with her fingers. 

“My mother gave me my first Nancy Drew when I was about ten,” G.G. Dieppe said as she touched the colorful cover of a 1950s volume. “A couple of years ago, I found one like this in a used book sale and tried to read it.” She shook her head. “I think they are better the way we remember them.”

Goldie’s face drooped, reminding Edie of a deflated balloon, and it suddenly occurred to her that the sisters wanted to donate their Nancy Drew collection to the library. The problem, of course, is that the books from the Tennyson attic wouldn’t make it through one reading, never mind two or three. And then there was the 30-year accumulation of dust and mold on every page of the books.

She glanced at Ruth, and saw the same thoughts in her friend’s mind. Aggie caught their eye, and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign for money. Of course, Edie realized, Ginger and Goldie probably couldn’t afford brand new children’s books but they still wanted to add to the collection of children’s coming from a grant from the Children’s Literacy Foundation. She felt her heart sink a little.

Then Annie Crane, librarian extraordinaire, rode to the rescue, and Edie was reminded, once again, why the library’s board of directors had hired her to helm the Frost Free Library in Carding. “You know what, these are perfect historical artifacts,” she said, beaming. “There are so many women who cut their feminist teeth on those books. Back then, few books featured girls as active main characters. And I’ll tell you, Nancy Drews still get checked out of the library.”

She picked up the oldest book in the Tennysons’ pile, holding it like a religious relic which, knowing Annie the way I do, it is. “With your permission, I would love to put together a display of book with girls as main characters, starting in the 1930s when these first appeared, to show folks how important Nancy Drew was and is. We could show a whole timeline from there to the present.”

Goldie’s face lit up like a firework finale on the 4th of July. “Do you think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Denise Digby opened the bag at her feet to reveal a dozen Goosebumps books by R.L. Stine. “Well, these aren’t exactly Nancy Drews but there are a lot of admirable female characters in them,” she said.

“Oh Denise, these will go down a treat,” Annie said.

Denise’s gift spurred everyone else to open their bags to reveal piles of Dr. Seuss and Richard Scarry, a complete collections of Judy Blume books, Katherine Paterson’s The Bridge to Terabithia, and a boxed set of Nancy Drews from Ruth Goodwin celebrating the teenage sleuth’s 90 years in print.

“Ninety years,” Ginger said. “Who would have thought?”

“I put together a collection of classics,” Aggie said revealing copies of Beatrix Potter’s little charmers as well as The Secret Garden, Wind in the Willows, Johnny Tremaine, Little House on the Prairie, and a sumptuously illustrated copy of The Hobbit with a gilded cover.

Soon everyone in the book lovers’ circle was passing the volumes from hand to hand, sharing their best loved moments among their pages. 

“I used to read these sitting in the crux of a pine tree in my backyard.”

“I can still recite this Dr. Seuss by heart.”

“I remember crying over Little House in the Prairie.”

“And laughing over Mr. Toad.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Edie spotted Denise sidling up to G.G. Dieppe. The two women conferred in whispers for a moment, and then Denise’s hand snaked down to the bottom of her bag. Somehow, Edie didn’t think that G.G. was the best candidate for a Stephen King novel, no matter how well meant. But to her surprise, G.G.’s face lit up, and she actually gave Denise a brief hug.

“Now I think I’ve seen everything,” Ruth murmured in Edie’s ear.

“Yeah, really. What do you suppose that book is?”

“Well, King wrote a book about writing and publishing called On Writing. Remember last month, G.G. told us how she’s writing a book,” Ruth said. “Maybe that’s it.”

Just then, the long-predicted storm that had been dancing on the outskirts of town announced its arrival with a throaty rumble that rolled down the Corvus River, and rain pattered on the leaves of the sycamores that graced the town green. Of course, all conversation ceased as one by one, the women turned their faces toward nature’s display. After the second roll of thunder, Ruth sighed. “Isn’t this wonderful? What better way to enjoy a late summer storm than with beloved books and beloved friends?”

The rain intensified from patter to something close to deluge but no one moved because the view from the covered gazebo was perfect.

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The Carding Chronicles are short stories written by author Sonja Hakala about the Vermont town that no one can quite find on a map. They feature the characters in her four Carding novels.

The Carding books are available from Amazon and the Chronicles appear here, on this website, every Monday. Hope to see you next week.