Lark Rise to Candleford: The One Reason I’m Not Ready for Spring
It arrived in a plain box from Amazon, mistaken as the arrival of a yoga book I had ordered. But when I opened up the package, there was the show I had been asking Alison to lend me for months: Lark Rise to Candleford. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Outside, it was gray and still dreary––winter’s signature––but inside, when I popped in the discs, there was a world of warm hearths, rolling green hills, fine silk dresses, stone cottages, gossipy shopkeepers, loving families, and a postmistress with as much pluck as I could hope to have myself. I was, in a word, transfixed.
Though an unpopular point of view, I was a fan of the ceaseless snow this winter. I have since come to understand that the reason for this acceptance was the fact that I had such good programming (and the most marvelous string of novels) inside. While the real world talked about Justin Bieber’s hair, the world of Lark Rise talked about the stuff that felt infinitely more important: the relationships in our communities and families, a yard of scarlet ribbon for your beloved’s hair, a walk through the quiet, lush woods, and a slice of warm, sweet cake eaten in the afternoon.
Oh, and adorable babies like this one:
I am a sucker for a strong leading lady, and this show has got at least two heroines that fit the bill: Laura Timmins, a dreamy but headstrong redheaded 16-year-old (sound familiar?) and Dorcas Lane, a woman of such self-possession, good humor, and a wickedly sharp tongue, I’d rather like to be her when I grow up. Besides, I love her oft-repeated phrase, announced with a naughty wink as she sinks into a bath of hot milk, drinks champagne, or raises a fork to her bow-shaped lips: “[Insert luxurious treat here] is my one weakness.”