“Let’s sum up… a little house, white and green or to be made so… with trees, preferably birch and spruce… a window looking seaward… on a hill. That sounds very possible… but there is one other requirement. There must be magic about it, Jane… lashings of magic… and magic houses are scarce, even on the Island. Have you any idea at all what I mean, Jane?”

                  ~Jane of Lantern Hill by L.M. Montgomery

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During a visit to my favorite book shop (Changing Hands), I met a kindred spirit who, like me, has an obsession with the adorable works of Miss Lucy Maude Montgomery. She introduced me to Jane, a literary sister of my beloved Anne and Emily. Needless to say, her namesake book, Jane of Lantern Hill, served to deepen my yearning for Prince Edward Island. (I would venture to call this yearning “homesickness,” but I unfortunately was born in plain, unromantic Phoenix, Arizona.)

This sweet book, simpler in style than some of Montgomery’s other works, renewed my longing to plant a garden, swim in the chilly sea, pick wildflowers along the coast, climb barn roofs, bake pies, run barefoot through green pastures, wake up to a blossoming tree outside my window, and watch the elfin flames of a driftwood fire on a starlit night. Somehow, I fear, the scorching 110 degree heat of my hometown just does not compare to these charming P.E.I. summers described in Jane of Lantern Hill. If only I could sail to the Island in body as well as imagination…but in this instance, reading can only take me so far…

Homesick for Lantern Hill

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