the sprite and the gardener

While I’m not much of a gardener myself (more of a houseplant hoarder), I love to enjoy other peoples’ gardens! I also love to take flower and book photos, as my Instagram account proves. My uncle has a fabulous garden, and he generously offered me some of his flowers for my photos this week – and that reminded me that I had a fetching little graphic novel on my to-read list: Rii Abrego and Joe Whitt’s The Sprite and the Gardener. It turned out to be charming and gentle, and I have decided that I want to be a sprite when I grow old, if only for the fabulous clothes and wings!

Long, long ago, sprites were the caretakers of gardens. Every flower was grown by their hand. But when humans appeared and began growing their own gardens, the sprites’ magical talents soon became a thing of the past. When Wisteria, an ambitious, kind-hearted sprite, starts to ask questions about the way things used to be, she’ll begin to unearth her long-lost talent of gardening. But her newly honed skills might not be the welcome surprise she intends them to be. 

The Sprite and the Gardener, the debut graphic novel by Joe Whitt and Rii Abrego, is bursting with whimsical art and vibrant characters. Join our neighborhood of sprites in this beautiful, gentle fantasy where both gardens and friendships begin to blossom.

Wisteria is new in town, and finding it difficult to fit in with the other sprites of Sylvan Trace. They’re all very close-knit, and talk about people and places she either barely knows or doesn’t know at all. She wanders away from one of these get-togethers and into a mess of a backyard one day, and decides to help a drooping bloom out – after all, sprites were the original caretakers of plant life before the humans moved in! When the human gardener trying to revive the garden sees Wisteria’s work, the story really begins, and it one about making new, unexpected friends, the power of teamwork, and reconnecting with the natural world.

 

The focus of this graphic novel is squarely on the visuals, and to be completely fair, they are *stunning*. Rii Abrego’s plant-forward art and adorable sprites (small fairy-type creatures with enormous, detailed eyes!) take center stage, and while there is a storyline, I found myself saying “plot?? what plot?” a couple of times. The book begins with a vague introduction to the origins and history of sprites – that portion reads like a fable, and a little wink to the audience about what is really going on here (it’s fostering harmony and plant-growing!). The common threads throughout are those of sprites reconnecting with their former flower magic, and humans reconnecting with their families and former hobbies. It’s a soothing, simple, one-note story, and that’s okay – just don’t go in expecting too much complexity. Also, what it may lack in detail it makes up for in enchanting visuals!

 

Let’s talk about that art a little more! It’s lovingly-detailed and vibrant, in what I would call a strong pastel palette of colors (does that make sense??): pinks, purples, teals, yellows, and soft oranges and greens and blues. Abrego’s art relies on precise linework, color contrasts, and color coordination. There are very few shadows and prints, and almost everything that isn’t a flower is one solid color. This imbues the art with a flat feel that pairs well with its vintage subject matter (round little fairies caring for flowers!) and lettering. I can also see this art eventually being collected in a gorgeous coloring book – the color choices Abrego makes are amazing, but I’m sure fans would love to make their own color choices as well.

 

In all, The Sprite and the Gardner is a feast for the eyes, and a quiet story for fairy- and flower-lovers of all ages, and for anyone who has been looking for a graphic novel with Studio Ghibli-slash-The Secret Garden vibes.

 

Recommended for: fans of #cottagecore, those who loved of Katie O’Neill’s Tea Dragon Society series, and anyone who loves intricate art, flowers, fairies, and gardening mythos.

 

Fine print: I received an e-ARC of this book from the publisher for review consideration. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

#bookstagram

Are you on Instagram? I am! It’s fun! If you follow/have followed me there, I changed my handle to @ceceliareads in June. It’s all books all the time. My personal handle (for photos of not-book things – most likely scenery, sports & coffee) is still live, too.

After I changed my handle I mentioned to several real-life friends that I’d started to do the “bookstagram thing.” Most of them couldn’t see any difference between my feed then and my feed now, so I guess we’ll chalk that up to me being extra on-brand with bookstagram. I did get one complaint about too many photos of socks, but what can you do? #socksunday, y’all.

For those not in the know, bookstagram (with or without the #) is the bookish community on Instagram. Participants take photos of books or book-adjacent things, use the hashtag for easy discovery, and then (as far as I can tell), go around telling people how beautiful their photos are and how excited they are to read [insert book title here]. It’s pretty great.

I was inspired by a few bookstagrammers I met at the Fierce Reads party at Book Expo. I looked them up after the fact and thought, yeah, I could do that! And then I had to figure out how to take tons of photos of books without getting really boring and repetitive.

Well folks, aside from the #socksunday idea I was stumped about how to make my photos stand out. I don’t collect book swag (bookmarks, trading cards, branded knick knacks, etc.), I don’t subscribe to any book delivery services, and I can’t afford to spend a fortune at the craft store – nor do I want to. Then I had an awesome brainstorm: could I use the flowers at work?

an example of a typical bouquet at our office. see those orange mini roses?

Work for me is in a nice-ish building in downtown DC, and the office has a standing Monday morning bouquet order with a local florist. It makes the reception area look really classy. But from Friday at close of business through Monday AM, the last week’s flowers just sit there (rotting!) – and so I asked the receptionist if I could start taking them on Fridays after the end of the day. Thus, Cecelia’s Friday book & flower photoshoots were born. I now take a stack of books with me to work on Fridays and look forward to the end of the day, when I’ll get to deconstruct the current week’s vase of flowers and create a few looks to fill my feed for the following weeks. I’ve included an example of the before-and-after so you can see what I mean!

the petals made for a beautiful #bookstagram look!

Of course, the flower and book thing is a little precarious – it depends on the goodwill of the office staff and me staying late every Friday night. So, what else should I feature on my bookstagram? Hit me up with ideas!

victoria, bc and the bike ride from hell (illustrated)

Elizabeth (of Occidental Idiot fame) requested a blog about an experience with either an umbrella or a bicycle. Alas, I have no stories that incorporate both. But this shall be the bicycle story (you may have gleaned that from the title already, who knows?).

Back when I was a naïve, happy and freshly-minted college graduate (this would be the summer before I started grad school), my college roommate and lovely friend Liz came to visit me in Seattle. Well, she came west for a wedding, and I happened to be on the way, so we made a vacation out of it. I planned for the mini-trip for a month or two in between working 60+ hour weeks as a swim coach, lifeguard and jack-of-all-trades at the local pool, and I decided that we'd see more than just mundane Seattle…we were going to Canada [insert joke about Canada or Canadians here].

What can I say? We were feeling adventurous, and these things are interesting in the Pacific Northwest. Canada is a novelty. They speak differently, they have socialized healthcare and Mounties…and they’re always coming down to Washington State for concerts and Mariners games. It can’t be too bad, right? Heh. I’d been to Victoria, British Columbia as a kid, and I recalled that it was a pretty sweet place. Plus, it’s on an island. In the Pacific Ocean. And it’s got a very British vibe. Whether that’s an act put on for the silly American and Japanese tourists or genuinely how things are, we will never know. But what’s not to love about a place known for its tearooms, bookstores and massive gardens?

Anyway, we decided to go to there, and I had planned it out down to the places we’d stop for lunch and dinner…we were not going to ‘wander’ aimlessly on this vacation!

We also decided not to take the car to the island. To accomplish that, you have to pay a ridiculous fee for the ferry and drive a lot farther to get to a different port. So we decided to park the car and walk onto the ferry. Just ourselves and our backpacks on our way to Canada. The trip was fun (lovely weather for the crossing, which took about 2 hours), and before we knew it we were scoping out Victoria’s harbor, the regional seat of government, and making our way to the hostel. Hostel was hilarious, as many of them are: brightly painted, minimal services, loud, and a closet-sized room for all your needs. The mattress was encased in vinyl. YESSSSSSSSS. We had an itinerary, though, and no time to waste!

Did I mention the biggest attraction in Victoria? Aside from high tea at the Empress Hotel? It’s the Butchart Gardens. National Historic Site for Canada, and 55 acres of natural blooming beauty. Victoria’s got a very mild climate, so things will grow year-round (I know, sweet, huh?). They do multiple re-plantings every season and it’s an absolute smorgasbord for the flower-lover. Thing is, it’s located 17 miles from Victoria proper, on an old family estate. And how were we to get there, you ask? That’s right…bicycle. I’d originally thought to catch a bus, but my mom, who used to be an avid cyclist, convinced me (and by association Liz) that it would be much more fun and scenic to rent bikes for the day and ride there.

I think you can see where this is going. We neither of us are/were avid cyclists. The way to the gardens is uphill. We hadn’t planned a definite route, and were directed to ride along the side of an 8-lane highway (with barriers in the middle). We were wearing our touristing clothes and sandals, and had been up since 6am. Cue that melancholy music they always play in sappy movies when nothing is going the hero/heroine’s way. Pardon me, but seventeen miles is a FREAKING long trek! I don’t think I can properly describe the agony that was that ride. I mean, up hills, cars whizzing past at dangerous speeds, rented mountain bikes which may or may not have had broken shifting mechanisms, Liz's asthma…the sheer torture of it all! I’m not exaggerating, folks. We were drenched in sweat, legs burning, Liz I’m sure was inwardly cursing the fact that we (okay, I) listened to my mother, and we didn’t know how much farther it was or if the hills would ever for the love of God and all that is holy STOP!!

In the end it took us over two hours to arrive. We sat comatose, chugging water for a half hour just trying to get our wits back. And then we saw the lovely garden (more photos found here)…

Check out that hedge, why don't you? Me in the arch.

Liz and bike #1. ARGHHH!!!

Me. Disgusted with bike #2 while waiting for the bus.

The only thing was, we still had to RIDE the bicycles from hell back to Victoria.

Or something. Something turned out to be that the local bus cost $2 (or the Canadian equivalent), and they had (glory of all glories!) bike racks on the front of them. We were saved! But we had to catch a very specific bus to be back in Victoria in time to go to our hostel and change and make our dinner reservation. So of course that exact bus shows up with a bike already in the bike rack! The nerve! We begged and pleaded and wheedled the bus driver until he took pity on us poor, silly American girls, and we stowed one bike in the handicapped section inside. With stern instructions that should someone need that seating, we were on our own! We got back to Victoria safely, however, locked rented bicycles in the hostel basement (sketchy!), and made our way to a lovely, lovely dinner. Where we consumed a bottle of wine between us before weaving our way back to the hostel and much needed sleep. I don’t think it would have been possible to sleep otherwise (it was so loud), except there was no way we weren’t going to crash after that ordeal.

Liz and I returned to US soil the next day, and still reminisce about our biking ordeal whenever we see each other. We also vow never to take my mother’s transportation advice again (because you never know, next time she could have us riding ostriches. Or alpacas!).