Laura Ingalls Wilder entered our house in March, inspired a maple candy extravaganza, and now she is hiding. She is due at the library, and despite calling her name, she does not show up. (I feel like author Robin Brande with her buried desk.) Earlier this week I found a slim picture book in
an archive a pile atop a stereo speaker; the book was a mere four weeks overdue. So, I know Laura is here somewhere.
While I search, you can catch Blog from the Windowsill's spin on the Ingalls family.