North Elk Run Little Free Library & Treasure Chest
The Bookmobile would pull into the Hales Corners shopping center parking lot once every two weeks. Mom and I would be waiting. I loved seeing the Bookmobile's turquoise color and its bullet shape.
The step into the Bookmobile was too high for my short legs, so Mom would grab my arm and hoist me up. Then I was lost—lost in a world of dogs, horses, and a book about a girl named Laurie who wanted yellow curtains.
Soon enough, I’d find the round metal stool you could push around to stand on or sit on when reaching for a book or flipping through one. While Mom was in her section, I’d pull out the books that interested me, sit on that stool, and look through them until I had the ones I wanted to take home pressed against my chest.
The storybook I remember most vividly was about a dog called Peanut, the same nickname my Dad had given me. The tiny brown, black, and white dog was so small it could sit on top of a spool of thread. I’ve searched for that book ever since but haven't found it yet.
Mom checked out my books with her library card until the magic day I signed my name and received my own. I loved the sound of the librarian’s stamp, stamp, stamp!
I still love reading. I love holding the book, looking at the author bio on the back cover, reading the testimonials, seeing who it was dedicated to, and then delving into what the author has to say.
Until recently, I had a giant bookshelf in my spare bedroom, made for me by my friend Roger when I lived in the one-room cabin on Pa’s Road. I gave it to Dane because I wanted to fit a desk in there, so the bookshelf had to go. There are still three bookshelves in my living room, one in the mudroom, and another in my office.
But I can’t possibly keep all the books I read in my 800-square-foot home anymore. Where would the dogs, cats, parakeets, and snails go?! So about seven years ago, I began gifting many of my books to my neighbor, Meaghan. I’d message her, then drag bags of books out to my roadside mailbox, where Meaghan would pick them up on her way to work. She would keep some to read and give others to her parents or the local school library. It was a great system that served us well.
Imagine my surprise when Meaghan, her husband Jake, and their children, Xan and Margo, said they wanted to stop over before our wedding to deliver our gift: a Little Free Library made by Jake, with a sign painted by Margo.
We found the perfect spot where Jake won’t hit it when he plows my driveway, or Dane when he backs out of it. Then, while we were away on our honeymoon, Jake came over, dug a hole, and poured concrete for the post supporting the library. Our critter sitter snapped pictures of his progress and messaged them to us. We couldn’t wait to see it and fill it with books!
When we returned, I was able to pick out a few books to give away, but most of the books I no longer wanted had already gone to Meaghan, other friends, or the free table at the dump. Dane, who reads just as much as I do—his attic bedroom is insulated with books from floor to ceiling—has a hard time parting with any of his books, so he hasn’t contributed many yet either.
I found the perfect solution: I bought my favorite books at the Richland Center Goodwill for a dollar each and put them into the library.
We’ve also added treasures for the adults and kids who stop by: a bird nest, feathers, heart-shaped rocks, small vases, and even earrings. Last week, Meaghan told me Margo found a treasure to give her friend who’s been sick. Oh, that does our hearts good!
Recently, someone else dropped off a few books, and I once spotted someone stopping in their car to take a look. The passenger picked out a book that, after my detective work, I was positive was Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine. A week later, it was back in the library, ready for another reader to choose it.
I’m completely in love with our new Little Free Library and would be thrilled if you stopped by and picked out a book. All libraries bring us the joy of books, but now in rural Viola, folks can simply stop by, pick a book or a treasure, and keep going. Honk if you do!
