Dashiell enjoys reading the poems in Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Children’s Garden of Verses, a book that was read to me as a child, its fabric bound seams worn thin by years of handling. Thanks to Grandma Lori for getting a new volume for D when he was born!
We have our favorites and usually read the same poems again and again, but once we read My Treasures:
THESE nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest
Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest,
Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me
In a wood with a well by the side of the sea.
This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!
By the side of a field at the end of the grounds.
Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own,
It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone!
The stone, with the white and the yellow and gray,
We discovered I cannot tell how far away;
And I carried it back although weary and cold,
For though father denies it, I’m sure it is gold.
But of all my treasures the last is the king.
For there’s very few children possess such a thing;
And that is a chisel, both handle and blade,
Which a man who was really a carpenter made.
Once I explained the term “nursie” to D, he started referring to Shelli as his “nursie,” which she is to him, and so much more. The idea of finding special sentimental items on their outings over hill and dale sparked his imagination. One day I mentioned the idea of gathering treasures to Shelli, and Shelli got inspired to set up a craft at her house.
Who knows what this special box will come to contain? Thank you Shelli for your love for D, your patience, and your crafty skills!