I was bumbling around on Castle Hill on New Zealand’s South Island. It was a balmy day, and I’d taken my shoes off to walk barefoot on the grass. It all seemed so gentle. The sun wasn’t burning, the grass was soft and prickle free, our picnic had been free of ants and flies. It seemed like I could walk the whole country with no shoes. But then, of course, I stubbed my toe on a rock. I couldn’t help but bring my clumsy self along to this beautiful place.
We visited some beautiful places on our holiday. The sort of places that make you think you’ve found not only a beautiful beach, but the epitome of all beaches. This happened at springs and quiet forest streams as well. I found myself naming the stories that belonged in each place. Here was a pool where a princess could lose a golden ball. And here is a lake where a hand with a shimmering sword should arise.
Of course, I’m not alone in my imaginings. The makers of the Narnia movies and the Lord of the Rings trilogy have seen it too. And I was thinking of them a lot on my journey, inspired not only by the landscape but these words of Kyran. I keep trying to think what my fairytale might be. As the oldest of three girls, I’m supposed to leave the adventures to the third. But I think I’m ready to own an adventure of my own.