"The Yearling"

I had never read this classic by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, but I've known about it since high school.  I didn't, however, know exactly what happened at the end of the story.  Had I known, would I have still read the book? Of course. But I'm glad I had no idea of the ending when I first opened that book last week. Beautifully written, with such detail that you felt as if you were actually living out there in the Florida woods.  And who knew that Florida once had bears and panthers and "Little House on The Prairie" settings....

My friend V back in Clear Lake once told me about this book.... that after she read it, she couldn't ever read a story about someone's pet ever again. Now I know why. (V never did mention the ending because she said she just couldn't discuss it.)  The last few chapters of "The Yearling" just destroyed me.  I sat there, just about numb with disbelief, tissues in hand (three of them soaking wet), and I wanted to put that book down for a while and not touch it for a few hours, but I also knew I had to finish that book because once I did put it down, I knew it would be a few years before I'd pick it up again.

After the last sentence of the last chapter, I looked up and out of the breakfast room windows. All that was out there were the grass-filled fields, the same fields where deer sometimes grazed in the early mornings. I kept staring out of the window and I saw the dark shadow of a hawk as it made its way over the field.  I never did see the hawk, but its shadow was as plain as day as it sailed over our property.

And the world went on....... even after that beautiful book with its devastating ending, the world just kept going on.  My husband came into the kitchen not long after I'd closed the book, as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed.  How can that be?  I felt as if I should go upstairs and hide under the covers of the bed for a while, or go up to the library on the third floor and just sit there and contemplate what I had just finished reading.

"Now that was a good book," I told my husband.  "How many tissues did you go through?" my husband wanted to know.  When I told him 'three,' he seemed surprised that the number wasn't higher. Well, it could have been, had I given into every little snuffle and tear that inched up during the last few chapters.  I just couldn't stop reading, and even while I was drenching those three tissues, I kept on  reading because I didn't want to miss one little word.  Sometimes, no matter how fast you can read, it just isn't fast enough.

Poor little deer.  Now had the parents consented to letting that boy have a dog or a cat for a pet, instead of that fawn, they wouldn't have had to worry about their corn crops.  But is there anything cuter than a tiny spotted fawn?

.... And the answer to that question is "Yes. Winnie the Poohdle."   --- That poodle lady called me yesterday....... I thought she was going to tell me the poodle puppy was still available, but that wasn't the reason for her call.  The puppy had been adopted by a lady who fell in love with him on the spot (been there, done that)...... but now the poodle lady had found a stray Black Lab puppy who needed a home, and she wanted to know if I knew anyone who was interested.  (Been there, done that also..... no one is ever interested when you have a stray puppy or kitten, it seems.... everyone around here has their own pets.)

So....... "The Yearling" story has ended.......... and the "Winnie the Poohdle" story has now officially ended....... and here we are at the beginning of September.  Time to think about getting the boxes of Halloween decorations out of the storage closet.