Fairies and Birch Trees (Week 3)

I mentioned in my last autobiography the Dr. Seuss books I got in the mail every month, but the first book that really captivated me was this huge (literally- it was probably almost as tall as I was) book about fairies. It was actually fairly long for this type of book, I believe that it was about 30 pages, and it was printed on hard, cardboard-like material. I think my sister and I got it for Christmas when I was about eight (this is a guesstimate) from one of our several aunts/uncles.
The things I loved about it most were its size and durability. I could open it up, lie half of my body on it and read stories about fairies that lived in huge trees in the forest. The pictures in it were lovely. They were brightly colored and, to put it simply, very pretty. I have always had an over-active imagination (in fact, I was convinced for a long time that there were fairies who invited me to ride roller coasters in the birch trees in our backyard, and I now attribute that longing to this book) so, needless to say, this book suited me perfectly. I would spend hours looking at the pictures and reading the stories over and over.
I hadn't given much thought about why this book enchanted me to the extent that it did until now, but I think it was the way the book literally invited me in. It gave me a whole other world to go to when I was bored with the one I was in and pretend I was there, I guess. Unfortunately, I can't really remember much of the details about what the stories were about, but I do remember that a few of them were about the fairies in conflict with some dark force. I remember daydreaming about ways to help them until the end when everything was resolved. Ok, I know I was a really weird kid, and I'm probably still incredibly weird to a lot of people, but I don't mind. I loved that book.
Other books/reading materials that were around when I was younger were, honestly, everywhere. I remember this subscription to some sort of Discovery magazine special on animals that we got monthly in the mail. My mom would read them to us until I could start reading, and then she encouraged me to read them to my younger sister and brother. They were kind of like pamphlets, I guess, that had scientific information about all kinds of different animals, and we collected them in these miniature three-ringed notebooks. I know this isn't a very great description of them, but I remember being so excited to read them and learn about all sorts of animals. This communal reading was very common in my house growing up. We were all expected to participate in reading or listening, and honestly, it wasn't much of a chore for any of us ("us" being me, my sister and my brother). All three of us always loved reading and being read to, probably because we were for as long as I can remember.
The most recent book I read with the same (or similar) enjoyment as the fairy book was, ok, don't laugh at me, the seventh (and final) Harry Potter book. I finished reading it a second time back in October, and I think I enjoyed it even more the second time. I know, I'm an English major and I've read several books since October, and I know that many people think these books are lame, and there are inconsistencies in them (trust me, I've seen them, I've read all the other books five times), but they fill the same spot in me that the fairy book did. They give me a world to go to when I'm bored with this one. I no longer think there are fairies in the trees next to my apartment, but I do have the same imagination, and it needs to be fed every once in a while.