The Midsummer Witch was one of my favorite childhood books.
When I was in elementary school, it was the first first book I would check out from the library when school let out for the summer.
In fact, I usually read it two or three times each summer.
At some point, likely when my family moved to and from Steamboat Springs, around the end of elementary school, my tradition broke, and it was several years before I thought of this book again.
By then, however, it had been so long that all I remembered was the title, and that wasn’t a lot to go on. (Plus, I admit that I never put too much effort into actually finding it.)
I had mentioned this in passing to AC, when we were discussing favorite books and reading and the like.
The other day, he surprised me with this:
A copy of the book. The right book. Exactly as I remember it.
This is one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received.
Pardon me while I go bathe myself if literary nostalgia.