Even in our do-more-with-less, 24-hour business life, that there are some stories need space to be told, and some audiences that seek more depth than a headline. And when stories are well told, they’ll find one another.
This month, I’m curling up with the kids many evenings to read Kenneth Grahame’s classic The Wind in the Willows. The story opens with the Mole in his dark hole thinking that it’s about time he ventures out into the wide world. So he digs his way to the surface, rubs his eyes, and sets off for adventure, soon meeting a true friend in the Water Rat and becoming our window to seeing the beauty of nature and friendship and, well, life with new eyes.
We’re just three chapters in and it’s clear that this is not a book for those whose attention span lives in 140 character bursts. Here, a passage from chapter three, about the stories of spring and summer the animals told each other to forget, for a while, winter’s chill:
“Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all! With illustrations so numerous and so very highly coloured! The pageant of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in scene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the edge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb, tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow. Comfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its place in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delaying dog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as if string-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into a gavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was still awaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom the ladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleeping summer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair and odorous in amber jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group, then the play was ready to begin.”
I don’t know these flowers and trees and herbs, but I can’t help but to be moved by the pictures Grahame paints of each blossom marking days of spring and summer like acts in a play or floats in a parade. That’s what I love about this book – it takes the time we need to be transported into this lovely world in the English countryside.
We all know that business writing doesn’t have this kind of time. But reading Grahame reminds me that even in our do-more-with-less, 24-hour business life, that there are some stories need space to be told, and some audiences that seek more depth than a headline.
And when stories are well told, they’ll find one another.