“Yesterday we went to Zephyr. A thaw was on and the roads were dreadful. We visited another rough, ignorant family living in a little log house at the back of beyond. At night we went to Guild. When we came out I thought of the drive home with dismay. The roads were so bad — and I was so tired and sick. How could I endure those endless seven miles of half bare hills and swamps? But lo, that drive home proved to be on eof those peculiar psychological experiences I have by times. As we left the church something suggested to my mind a verse from ‘The Lady of the Lake’. I began recalling the poem, which I have known by heart since childhood — and not only recalling it but living it. I roamed through its vivid scenery. I talked with its people. Other poems followed and them I also lived. The physical discomforts of the drive were quite unnoticed. I was snatched far away from them and in spirit lived ‘one crowded hour of glorious life’ oblivious to all my surroundings, save only the stars shining over me. That drive home, instead of being the nightmare I dreaded was a strange, scintillating, vivid dream of unearthly delight.”
— Journal entry of L. M. Montgomery, Jan. 30, 1914
