Some of you have been watching the Heavens for the Persieds — I hope your views have been clear!
The image here is a section of a Maxfield Parrish illustration for The Knave of Hearts — in the full view, I think the Knave is kicking his legs out as he leans against a wall, looking up and over at something to his right. Knaves don’t interest me as much as castles do. [shrug]
It crosses my mind to wonder whether more children now know about Cosette’s “Castle in the Clouds” than Snow White’s Prince’s Castle-in-the-Clouds (Disney version).
The Castle in my life was a much more down-to-earth place, smelling of damp rock, old wood, and furniture polish. I have relics in the garden. There’s an image of it on my finger. The miles between here and there are measurable in time and tolls, and the leaps of imagination required to get there are those of scheduling, not of suspended disbelief.
Having just read bits of A Stolen Tongue, I guess I’m just thinking about the power of belief, and the kinds of truth that can be found [or lost, or misplaced] in objects.
But it also occurs to me — maybe because I just used the word ‘leap’ a few moments ago — that my imaginative power can go in different directions because I don’t have to imagine castles. I remember castles; I know what it’s like to wake up there, to stretch and start an ‘ordinary’ day by walking out onto a balcony and seeing what the very real weather was like.