A book of fables, you know the ones, I found it inside a cardboard box with many other books at a fleamarket, it had a turn of the century fabric book cover which intrigued me.
Under the fabric book cover (that was added at the turn of the century) the book dated 1803, a book of those famous fables.
Via Wiki:
"Apollonius of Tyana, a 1st-century CE philosopher, is recorded as having said about Aesop:
... like those who dine well off the plainest dishes, he made use of humble incidents to teach great truths, and after serving up a story he adds to it the advice to do a thing or not to do it. Then, too, he was really more attached to truth than the poets are; for the latter do violence to their own stories in order to make them probable; but he by announcing a story which everyone knows not to be true, told the truth by the very fact that he did not claim to be relating real events.
— Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, Book V:14"
On the top corner of the book there is a monogram.
What a story this book could tell.
Printed in 1803-
With a monogram on the corner-
Not a rare book-
Small and very worn-
We never know where we will go, or how our story will turn, twist, run high, twirl, swirl and maybe rest is a box untold.
Some are page turners, some turn pages, some read between the lines and others are a closed book.
This one has a monogram on the top right corner.
Tell me something: A poem, a story, a word, an idea, a joke, a frustration, your last hiccup or movie you saw. I will pick someone and send them this book...
A monarch butterfly alights upon the purple coneflower and the bees buzz about the lavender ~ our sunny garden's afternoon delights
Posted by: Judy | 02 August 2016 at 06:27 AM
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I truly love your blog
It's the best...just like you!!
Posted by: Liane | 02 August 2016 at 06:53 AM
Marie de France determined to keep Breton lais alive developed a unique style in the late 1100s to bring the traditional folktales to the aristocratic courts. She focussed on love and its completely natural assault on our senses. Delightful and edifying still.
Posted by: Jeanne Treadway | 02 August 2016 at 07:06 AM
I have just returned home from my daughter's house in North Carolina where she is working towards her PhD to become a French professor. While I was there I she had me paint the walls of one room with a lovely excerpt by Alphonse de Lamartine that begins...le livre de vie est le livre suprême.
With the mystery of who owned the little book, the monogram, the pretty fabric added to it in a way your's too is le livre de vie!
Posted by: May | 02 August 2016 at 07:12 AM
Page Turner
A glance, a second look,
Maybe just another book
Pick me up, hold me now
Stories soon will all spill out
Take me home, hear with care
Lessons on life, there’s wisdom here
Pass me along, so I can shine
Another’s path with truth sublime
Posted by: Kirk | 02 August 2016 at 09:43 AM
My favorite poem (because it says it all...)
Peonies by Mary Oliver:
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?
Posted by: Jacklynn Lantry | 02 August 2016 at 11:13 AM
As convenient as e-books are, what with not taking up shelf space or needing to be bought or shipped from faraway countries, they lack that fabulous finger feel of old paper and the delicious scent of stories and knowledge. New books smell nice, happy, full of hope. But old books are intoxicating.
Posted by: Taste of France | 02 August 2016 at 11:24 AM
I agree. I love a real book or magazine. I like to make lists in pretty little notebooks and keep a diary even as I can't live without this computer. It is touch screen and a week ago I must have bumped something and now my facebook is in French. I do not know French and so I can't read anything to change it back. I guess I'll learn a few words over time. It does look pretty when the notification emails come in.
Posted by: Carolyn from Pittsburgh | 02 August 2016 at 12:51 PM
I spent the weekend at a workshop, wth an amazing artist. It was a joy to watch him paint. His strokes were so fluid, they glided across t canvas. He chose his colors carefully, giving each one much thought. They were so pure and so clean. The scene before us slowly began to unfold under his brush. We were all so inspired and eager to begin our own work. As we all struggled in our own way with our painting, he came around and offered us advice. His talent became more obvious as the day progressed.
Posted by: Dd | 02 August 2016 at 01:31 PM
Last night I had to confront fear again. I am a midlife female firefighter student. We had a confined space drill. Full gear, on an air pack going through the tightest of spaces for about 15 feet. Dark, cramped and only one way to go - through.
Control your breathing, do not panic even though your helmet keeps hitting the sides. Face to the ground - you can do this.
Oh, it wasn't pretty. I was a hot mess at the end of it.
The thought that a life might be saved by my doing this is my motivation.
Posted by: Toni | 02 August 2016 at 01:55 PM
Someone once said if you own a book, you are among the richest people in the world. You have had an education to be able to read. You have the means to buy a book. And you have the leisure time to read. How fortunate we are!
Posted by: Karen in Bucks County | 02 August 2016 at 01:56 PM
Lavender Fields
Such lavender came
while sleepy....
Meadows found their voice in bloom,
With Song....
softly heard.
LV
Posted by: Linda V | 02 August 2016 at 02:33 PM
Books, like proverbs, receive their chief value from the stamp and esteem of ages through which they passed. William Temple 1881-1944
Posted by: Jenine Clifford | 02 August 2016 at 02:54 PM
all of these comments are so wonderful....I am a reader between the lines-cannot sing dance paint or the like-but I have been blessed with that ability-and was always flabbergasted when others did not "see"-that is when I realized it was a gift-and like everything has its good and its bad-have spent the last 2-going on 3 weeks tending to my dad's heath-88-soon to be 89-reading between the lines....
Posted by: g | 02 August 2016 at 03:08 PM
Today is my birthday, Corey. I was born in 1949.
Tell me I am not old.
[now THAT would be a fable! ]
Posted by: Judy in Fort Worth | 02 August 2016 at 03:29 PM
I noticed my husband standing on the bathroom scale, sucking in his stomach. “That’s not going to help,” I said.
“Sure, it does,” he said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”
Posted by: Tricia | 02 August 2016 at 05:03 PM
I have a lovely copy of Aesop's fables bound in leather, a gift from my sister. She loves books as much as I and gives me classics in beautiful leather bindings. But I also have a few old books covered in fabric. They are beautiful to me, too. This copy would be as treasured as the others. And maybe improve my French.
Posted by: Karen in Michigan | 02 August 2016 at 05:14 PM
STUNNING!
Posted by: La Contessa | 02 August 2016 at 05:55 PM
A friend is a friend when he is
noble;
a friend is an imposter when he is
sly.
Posted by: Elaine | 02 August 2016 at 06:41 PM
What did the grape say when the elephant stepped on it?
Nothing, it just let out a little 'wine'! I love the simple ones... Warmest summer greetings from the back country of Vermont!
Posted by: Carroll | 02 August 2016 at 07:35 PM
Peace and love to all of you for your comments. They brought a smile to my face today.
Posted by: Sharon Nicholes | 02 August 2016 at 07:52 PM
I have NEVER written poetry in my life until my friend told me a story about her great Aunt who had passed away. Story goes that this great Aunt found herself with child when she was a young woman. Her family sequestered her away until she gave birth to a baby boy. This child was given up for adoption with her having no say in the matter and she was never "the same" again. She lived out her life being shuffled around between the homes of her relatives. Apparently she spent her days knitting tiny, blue, baby booties and lining them up in rows.
I couldnt get this story out of my head and then one morning inspiration visited me and traveled down my arm and into my hand and penned this poem..
Memories wrap around her
Like an empty embrace
Decisions made In her name
Forever marked her being
Kept aloft in this lifetime
By the song of the needles
Click clack click clack they sing
Familiar tune played out
The passage of time
Shades of blue slipped through her fingers
As did the years of longing
Sweet, sweet face knit in
Each tiny bootie
Sleep now, peace be yours
Posted by: Nikki | 02 August 2016 at 08:01 PM
I love poems, fables and books. Lots of great things shared so far by others. Lately I have been feeling a bit blue - aggravated with my job and worrying too much about money. I went to visit a dear friend in Arkansas last week who moved away in 2015. We went to a small town and visited an antique shop. The owner & I automatically clicked as if we knew each other a long time. Two weeks ago someone broke into her store and stole all her money out of the cash register, yet she was still smiling and told me she was confident that God would see her through this ordeal. In fact she received a call from a construction co. 3 days after the robbery happened about a house about to be leveled that had tons of antiques & collectibles inside, and she was more than welcome to take whatever she wanted to sell in her store. The moral of this story is that I need to stay strong in my faith and know that He will see me through my struggles.
Posted by: Dawn | 02 August 2016 at 09:10 PM
"History has its' eyes on you...who lives who dies who tells your story?"
-Hamilton the musical.
Lin- Manuel Miranda
Posted by: Linda | 02 August 2016 at 09:28 PM
My friend and I keep guestbooks. We have been doing this for 25 years. After awhile,as we visit each other almost every week,we began to run out of things to say. So now our books are full of all kinds of things which may have nothing to do with the visit. We often wonder about the person who will someday find them on a yard-sale table. What will they make of us?
Posted by: Megan Mays | 02 August 2016 at 09:31 PM
Truer words were never spoken than by a 7-yr old great-niece.... "you look weird without eye makeup"
Posted by: Wendy in Kennewick | 02 August 2016 at 09:31 PM
Allowables
-Nikki Giovanni
I killed a spider
Not a murderous brown recluse
Nor even a black widow
And if the truth were told this
Was only a small
Sort of papery spider
Who should have run
When I picked up the book
But she didn't
And she scared me
And I smashed her
I don't think
I'm allowed
To kill something
Because I am
Frightened
Posted by: Franca Bollo | 02 August 2016 at 09:47 PM
Good luck, G. I understand.
Posted by: Taste of France | 02 August 2016 at 10:36 PM
Thank you so much for your kind understanding!
Posted by: g | 02 August 2016 at 11:27 PM
Thank you to everyone.....this has been amazing reading all of this.
Corey...look what you have achieved....
Ali
Posted by: Ali | 03 August 2016 at 12:46 AM
I strive to tell pure tales in this way. To create original folktales that will leave in the viewer forever a sense of wonder at their world. Did I see what I thought I saw? Yes. In reality? It doesn't matter.
Love you.
Posted by: Shelley Noble | 03 August 2016 at 02:03 AM
You remain in my thoughts dear g X.
Posted by: Leigh NZ | 03 August 2016 at 03:43 AM
Hahahah love it!
Posted by: Leigh NZ | 03 August 2016 at 03:44 AM
Cute ; )
Posted by: Leigh NZ | 03 August 2016 at 03:45 AM
voting for kirk.. corey sending hugs and love..
Posted by: Lana Kloch | 03 August 2016 at 08:33 AM
I love this story and will remember it always. Thank you Dawn.
Posted by: Mary | 03 August 2016 at 01:59 PM
thank you for your kindness my friend!
Posted by: g | 03 August 2016 at 02:16 PM
Wow-reading these made my morning! Nikki gave me chills. Tricia made me laugh out loud. I cheered for Toni. I pick Toni because courage is not about feeling brave. And she taught me something--bringing fragile children into this terrifying and beautiful world is a lot like going into a burning building.
Posted by: mmansker | 03 August 2016 at 07:01 PM
I was born in 1949, Judy, although in December. Two months ago, I had brain surgery to resolve unrelenting pain from a nerve at the base of my brain that had been compressed by blood vessels. My life feels new, not old, and yours is, too.
Posted by: Linda P. | 03 August 2016 at 08:15 PM
Such lovlies! I am always tuning in too late for these things!
:o)
Posted by: Brenda, Walker, LA | 09 August 2016 at 03:28 PM