24 Anne Of Avonlea Read By Stephanie Poppins

In this series, Anne discovers the delights and troubles of being a teacher, takes part in the raising of Davy and Dora, and organizes the A.V.I.S. (Avonlea Village Improvement Society) together with Gilbert, Diana, and Fred Wright, through their efforts to improve the town are not always successful.

In this episode, a vicious storm brings death and destruction.

Transcript

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

That's it.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Anne of Avonlea This is the second book in the Anne of Green Gables series.

I'm delighted to present to you Anne as she has now grown up into an elegant teenager.

Come with me as we hear all the trials and tribulations as she continues on her journey to womanhood.

Chapter 24 A Prophet in His Own Country One May day,

Avonlea folks were mildly excited over some Avonlea notes,

Signed Observer,

Which appeared in the Charlottetown Daily Enterprise.

Gossip ascribed the authorship thereof to Charlie Sloane,

Partly because the said Charlie had indulged in similar literary flights in times past,

And partly because one of the notes seemed to embody a sneer at Gilbert Blythe.

Avonlea Juvenile Society persisted in regarding Gilbert Blythe and Charlie Sloane as rivals in the good graces of a certain damsel with grey eyes and an imagination.

Gossip as usual was wrong.

Gilbert Blythe,

Aided and abetted by Anne,

Had written the notes,

Putting in the one about himself as a blind.

Only two of the notes have any bearing on this history.

Rumour has it there will be a wedding in our village ere the daisies are in bloom.

A new and highly respected citizen will be invited to the wedding.

Uncle Abe,

Our well-known weather prophet,

Predicts a violent storm of thunder and lightning for the evening of the 23rd of May,

Beginning at seven o'clock sharp.

The area of the storm will extend over the greater part of the province.

People travelling that evening will do well to take umbrellas and Macintoshes with them.

Uncle Abe really has predicted a storm for some time this spring,

Said Gilbert,

But do you suppose Mr Harrison really does go to see Isabella Andrews?

No,

Said Anne,

Laughing.

I'm sure he only goes to play checkers with Mr Harrison Andrews.

But Mrs Lynn said she knows Isabella Andrews must be going to get married.

She's in such good spirits this spring.

Poor Uncle Abe felt rather indignant over the notes.

He suspected the observer was making fun of him.

He angrily denied having assigned any particular date for his storm,

But nobody believed him.

Life in Avonlea continued on the smooth and even tenor of its way.

The planting was put in.

The improvers celebrated an Arbor Day.

Each improver set out or calls to be set out five ornamental trees.

As the society now numbered forty members,

This meant a total of two hundred young trees.

Early oats greened over the red fields.

Apple orchards flung great blossoming arms about the farmhouses.

And the Snow Queen adorned itself as a bride for her husband.

Anne liked to sleep with her window open and let the cherry fragrance blow over her face all night.

She thought it was very poetical.

Marilla thought she was risking her life.

Thanksgiving should be celebrated in the spring,

Said Anne one evening to Marilla as they sat on the front doorstep and listened to the silver sweet chorus of the frogs.

I think it would be ever so much better than having it in November when everything's dead or asleep.

Then you have to remember to be thankful.

But in May,

One simply can't help being thankful that they are alive if nothing else.

I feel exactly as Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden before the trouble began.

Is that grass in the hollow green or golden?

It seems to me,

Marilla,

A pearl of a day like this,

When the blossoms are out and the winds don't know where to blow from next for sheer crazy delight,

Must be pretty near as good as heaven.

Marilla looked scandalised and glanced apprehensively around to make sure the twins were not within earshot.

They came around the corner of the house just then.

Ain't it an awful nice smelling evening?

Asked Davey,

Sniffing delightedly as he swung a hoe in his grimy hands.

He'd been working in his garden.

That spring,

Marilla,

By way of turning Davey's passion for revelling in mud and clay into useful channels,

Had given him and Dora a small plot of ground for a garden.

Both had eagerly gone to work in a characteristic fashion.

Dora planted,

Weeded and watered carefully,

Systematically and dispassionately.

As a result,

Her plot was already green with prim,

Orderly little rows of vegetables and annuals.

Davey,

However,

Worked with more zeal than discretion.

He dug and hoed and raked and watered and transplanted so energetically that his seeds had no chance for their lives.

How is your garden coming along,

Davey boy?

Asked Dan.

Kind of slow,

Said Davey with a sigh.

I don't know why the things don't grow better.

Melty Bolter says I must have planted them in the dark of the moon and that's the whole trouble.

He says you must never sow seeds or kill pork or cut your hair or do any important things at the wrong time of the moon.

Is that true,

Anne?

I want to know.

Maybe if you didn't pull your plants up by the roots every day to see how they're getting on at the other end,

They'd do better,

Said Marilla sarcastically.

I only pulled six of them,

Protested Davey.

I wanted to see if there was grubs at the roots.

Melty Bolter says if it wasn't the moon's fault,

It must be grubs.

But I only found one grub.

It was a great big juicy curly one.

I put him on a stone and got another stone and smashed him flat.

He made a jolly squish,

I can tell you.

I was sorry there wasn't more of them.

Dora's garden was planted same time as mine and her things are growing all right.

It can't be the moon,

Davey concluded in a reflective tone.

Marilla,

Look at that apple tree,

Said Anne.

Why,

The thing's human.

It's reaching out long arms to pick its own pink skirts daintily up and provoke us to admiration.

Those yellow Duchess trees always bear well,

Said Marilla complacently.

That tree will be loaded this year.

I'm really glad.

They're great for pies.

But neither Marilla nor Anne or anybody else was fated to make pies out of yellow Duchess apples that year.

The 23rd of May came,

An unceasably warm day,

As none realised more keenly than Anne and her little beehive of pupils sweltering over fractions and syntax in the Avonlea schoolroom.

A hot breeze blew all the forenoon,

But afternoon,

It died away into heavy stillness.

At half past three,

Anne heard a low rumble of thunder.

She promptly dismissed school at once so that the children might get home before the storm came.

As they went out to the playground,

Anne perceived a certain shadow and gloom over the world,

In spite of the fact the sun was still shining brightly.

Annette Bell caught her hand nervously.

Oh,

Teacher,

Look at that awful cloud!

Anne looked and gave an exclamation of dismay.

In the northwest,

A massive cloud such as she had never seen in all her life was rapidly rolling up.

It was dead black,

Save where its curled and fringed edges showed a ghastly livid white.

Mr Harmon Andrews came clattering up the hill in his truck wagon,

Urging his team of greys to their utmost speed.

Guess Uncle Abe's hit for once in his life?

Anne,

He shouted,

His storm's coming a little ahead of time.

Did you ever see the like of that cloud?

Here,

All you young ones that are going my way piling,

And those that ain't schooled for the post office if you're more than a quarter of a mile to go,

And stay there till the shower's over.

Anne caught Davy and Dora by the hands and flew down the hill,

Along the birch path and past Violet Vale and Willow Mere,

As fast as the twins' fat legs could go.

They reached Green Gables not a moment too soon and were joined at the door by Marilla,

Who had been hustling her ducks and chickens under shelter.

As they dashed into the kitchen,

The light seemed to vanish,

As if blown out by some mighty breath.

At the same moment,

With a crash of thunder and a blinding glare of lightning,

The hail swooped down and blotted the landscape out in one great fury.

Davy,

At the first crash,

Howled,

Anne,

Anne,

Is it the judgment day?

I never meant to be naughty,

And then buried his face in her lap and kept it there.

Then,

Almost as suddenly as it began,

The storm ceased.

The hail stopped,

The thunder rolled and muttered away to the eastward,

And the sun burst out merry and radiant over the world,

So changed that it seemed an absurd thing to think that a scant three quarters of an hour could have affected such a transformation.

Marilla rose from her knees,

Weak and trembling,

And dropped onto her rocker.

Her face was haggard and she looked ten years older.

How have we come out of that alive?

She asked solemnly.

You bet we have,

Piped Davy cheerfully,

Quite his own man again.

I wasn't a bit scared either,

Only just at the first.

It came on a fella so sudden,

I made up my mind quick as a wink I wouldn't fight Teddy Slow Monday as I promised,

But now maybe I will.

I say,

Dora,

Was you scared?

Yes,

I was a little scared,

Said Dora primly,

But I held tight to Anne's hand and said my prayers over and over again.

The like of this has never been known in Prince Edward Island,

Said Marilla,

Never.

I remember when I was a girl,

There was a bad storm,

But it was nothing to this.

We'll hear of terrible destruction,

You may be sure.

I do hope none of the children were caught out in it,

Murmured Anne anxiously.

But as it was discovered later,

None of the children had been,

Since all those who had any distance to go had taken Mr.

Andrew's excellent advice and sought refuge at the post office.

There comes John Henry Carter,

Said Marilla.

We're none of us killed,

Said Marilla grimly,

And none of the buildings were struck either.

I hope you got off equally well.

Yes,

Not quite so well,

Ma'am,

We were struck.

The lightning knocked over the kitchen chimney and came down the flue and knocked over Ginger's cage.

Was Ginger hurt,

Inquired Anne.

Yes,

He was hurt pretty bad,

He was killed.

Later on,

Anne went over to comfort Mr.

Harrison.

She found him sitting by the table stroking Ginger's gay,

Dead body with a trembling hand.

He was all the company I had,

Anne.

Now he's dead.

Well,

I'm an old fool to care so much.

I let on that I don't care.

I know you're going to say something sympathetic as soon as I stop talking,

But don't.

If you did,

I'd cry like a baby.

If you did,

I'd cry like a baby.

I guess folks won't laugh at Uncle Abe's predictions again.

It seems as if all the storms he's been prophesying all his life had never happened.

All came at once.

I must hustle out and get some boards to patch that hole in the floor.

Avondale folks did nothing the next day but visit each other and compare damages.

The mail came from ill tidings from all over the province.

Houses had been struck,

People killed and injured.

The whole telephone and telegraph system had been disorganised and any number of young stock exposed in the field had perished.

Uncle Abe forgot he'd ever denied setting the day and as for the tripling discrepancy in the hour,

That was nothing.

Gilbert arrived at Green Gables in the evening and found Marilla and Anne busily engaged in nailing strips of oilcloth over the broken windows.

Goodness only knows when we'll get glass for them,

Said Marilla.

Mr Barry went over to Carmody this afternoon but not a pain could he get for love nor money.

Lawson and Blair were cleaned out by the Carmody people at ten o'clock.

Was the storm bad at White Sands,

Gilbert?

I should say so.

I was caught in the school with all the children and I thought some of them would go mad with fright.

Three of them fainted and two girls took hysterics.

Tommy Blewett did nothing but shriek at the top of his voice the whole time.

I only squealed once,

Said Davey proudly.

My garden was all smashed flat,

He continued mournfully,

But so was Dora's.

Anne came running down from the West Gable.

Oh Gilbert have you heard the news?

Mr Levi Bolter's old house was struck and burned to the ground.

It seems to me I'm dreadfully wicked to feel glad over that when so much damage has been done.

Mr Bolter says he believes the Avis magicked up that storm on purpose.

Well one thing is certain,

Said Gilbert laughing,

The Observer has made Uncle Abe's reputation as a weather prophet.

Uncle Abe's storm will go down in local history.

It's a most extraordinary coincidence it should have come on the very day we selected.

I actually have a half guilty feeling as if I really had magicked it up.

We may as well rejoice over the old house being removed,

For there's not much to rejoice over where our young trees are concerned.

Not ten of them have escaped.

Oh well we'll just have to plant them over next spring,

Said Anne.

That's one good thing about this world,

There are always sure to be more springs.

Reviews

Sounds like a terror of a storm! Right at blossom… scary—
Thanks for reading, as always!❤️🙏🏼