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  • Writer's pictureKaren Queller

Storytime: Strega Nona

Greetings, beautiful creatures who have gathered around this mystical fire. Here, beneath the canopy of stars, let me delight you with the enchanting tale of "Strega Nona", a book written by Tomie dePaola.

In a quaint Italian village, nestled amidst rolling hills and cobblestone streets, dwelled Strega Nona, a beloved, Italian grandmother with a heart steeped in magic. Imagine her steadfast hands that danced with spells and her eyes that held the secrets of the cosmos. Yet, it was her pasta pot that held the most wondrous enchantment. With a whispered incantation and a wave of her hands, the pot would bubble and simmer, conjuring forth pasta in abundance! But listen closely, for every enchantment comes with its tale of lessons learned. In her wisdom, Strega Nona took on a young assistant, Big Anthony, whose intentions were pure but whose grasp of magic was akin to a fledgling bird taking its first flight. He gazed at the pasta pot with awe, yet his heart did not grasp its delicate rhythms.

When Strega Nona left her house and embarked on a journey to gather herbs from distant realms, she left her magic in Big Anthony's care. In his eagerness to wield the magic, he ignited the pot with a spell incomplete, a chant cut short. And oh how the pasta poured forth, a torrential tide of long yellow strands that poured out the windows, out the door and filled the entire village, turning cobblestone into culinary delight.

Upon her return, Strega Nona beheld the chaos that had unfurled like a mischievous sprite. Yet, even as she righted the magic and quelled the pasta flood, her gaze was not that of sternness but of understanding. She bestowed upon Big Anthony the gift of wisdom, a lesson etched in the pasta-strewn streets. To listen, to learn, and to heed the call of magic with a heart attuned.

As the moon graces our skies this eve, remember the tale of Strega Nona, for it whispers through the winds of time. A tale of magic and mishap, of mentorship and growth. Gather 'round, my dear souls, as the embers of our campfire dance to the rhythm of tales spun, for these stories are the threads that bind us to the mystical realms beyond.

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