once the snow began to melt and the ice dissapear... our plucky heroine followed this pathway along the side yard...the eastern sunlight so warm it felt like striking sparks from the tips of the moss on the chookhouse roof. The landscapes of moss country are always fascinating to me, I spent a lot of time five years ago photographing them all around the local neighborhoods...
Then there were these mysterious tracks in the last remaining snow, which research showed to be squirrel footprints... - - - ->※※※
Given the general state of the world and our country in particular, I am attempting to balance action and effort with a modicum of self-care. There are only few things I know that compare to the delight of exploring a new-to-me book by a favorite writer. I was able to borrow "Summerlong" by Peter S Beagle, and am allowing self a few pages at a time, several times a day, to encourage my forward momentum. The wonderfully rich and specific way he uses words, and what to me feels like a glimpse of essential inner lovingkindness, have been invaluable to me.
I first read his "The Last Unicorn" in 1970 (according to my memory and the copyright on my very battered paperback, bought at the New England Mobile Book Fair with a combination of allowance and babysitting money) and have been a delighted if inconstant fan ever since. I read things, and then life distracts me, and then I come back again and remember how nourishing the writings are... Am considering making a reading list, and then after that choosing to add a bit to my heavily curated home library...
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