Actually, I ought to be doing a dozen different issues proper now, however this concept has utterly captured my consideration.
If I had my manner, my Little Free Library wouldn’t simply be a field of books on a stick. It will be a small landmark—quietly considerate, a bit of weathered, and stuffed with coronary heart. The construction could be made from reclaimed wooden, one thing sturdy like oak, pale from solar and time right into a gentle, silvery grey. I image a glass entrance door, easy and durable, so you’ll be able to see the titles inside—books with actual weight, like Simon Winchester’s The Man Who Cherished China or Mark Kurlansky’s Havana. Books that take you locations, that make you suppose.
The roof would lengthen simply sufficient to offer a bit of shade—as a result of that is Arizona, in any case—and there’d be a spot on the facet the place desert lizards may collect, perhaps with a small bowl that catches rainwater. A nod to the atmosphere, one thing respectful of the lives that cross by, human or not.
At evening, a small solar-powered gentle would flick on—not shiny, only a gentle glow to remind individuals it’s nonetheless there, nonetheless open. A spot for tales, for concepts, for moments of quiet connection in a busy world.
It wouldn’t draw consideration to itself, however if you happen to walked previous it typically sufficient, you’d begin to really feel prefer it belonged. Prefer it was a part of the neighborhood. Prefer it knew your title.
