Snow Place Like Home

Surprise Snow
February 2014

"The snowfall, which he witnessed out of the corners of his eyes - furious, wind-whipped flakes against the windows - struck him as infinitely beautiful"

Snow Falling on Cedars -  David Guterson (p5)

Today's Friday photo was from my front steps. Hope you have a lovely weekend full of surprises.  

What's that? You eight.

Now that the temps have dropped below freezing periodically I might finally stay in and finish This Book is Full of  Spiders.  

I'm sure my dreams will thank me.

Moving On

Combining two stressful life/work events in the same weekend probably wasn't my best idea.  As an upside, I'm getting a nice bicep workout from carrying lots of boxes of books.  My bookcase has also found its new home and at some point in the near future, I'll have a lot of fun re-organizing the books to whatever whim I happen to have on the day.  Typically, they are (loosely) arranged by genre and then by height.  Authors sometimes are on the same shelf, but not always.

I don't have a future as a librarian.

Hope your weekend is going along well.

Stormy Night

October is turning out to be the month of quotes and poems.  This morning, the news reminded me what it was like to arrive back to my house two days after the flood, and then two years later, arrive to my apartment the day after the tornado.  The aftermath can be as overwhelming as the event.  Eleanor Roosevelt was on my mind, so for Tuesday inspiration:

“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."
       - Eleanor Roosevelt
       You Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life
       Source: GoodReads

I'm a fan.  Good luck to you facing big fears and post-storm waters today.

The Show Must Go On

The downside of searing throat pain is that you cannot sleep.  The bright side (cue Monte Python) is that you can spend an entire evening in bed to finish a book.  In this case, it was Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen.

I had no expectations for this read and will admit was, at times, surprised (and perhaps blushed) with our author's frankness in setting scenes. (I am sure it is still far from a popular 50 book in the spotlight.) Like the author (previous to her writing this novel), I have no recollection of having ever been to the circus. [It could also be that I am suppressing a memory which includes clowns. I'm not a fan of clowns thanks to reading It perhaps a bit too young but that is another story.] The characters, the work, the risk, and hope of reward became vivid to me as I hit "Next" on the Kindle (which is admittedly not the same as saying "turned the page" but we have to let go a little of these). I was eager to know how Marlena would make out and whether or not Jacob's story would "fair" a happy ending. Until reading the author's notes, I completely missed the Biblical parallels. A quick search leads me to believe I was not the only reader to do so.

In the end, this novel was perfect travel reading. The noises of children, animals and those occasional plane smells drove me deeper into the book and added a bit of 3-D enhancement to the story threads. I did find the anecdote about Edison and the elephant disturbing, but I'm trying to chalk it up to knowing history better arms us not to repeat it.

Author's note: Side effects of throat pain sometimes include bad puns, disjointed, jumpy texts and insertion of personal parenthetical anecdotes.

You Give Me (Spring) Fever

I had a visit to Lowe's yesterday which made me wax a bit nostalgic over my first house.  Over the course of a few years, I changed every lock and hinge as well as a variety of other items like electrical outlet and light switch covers.  (It only takes installing a hinge backwards one time to make you check it twice.  Outlet covers?  I hope I don't need to remind you to check those twice.)

More than the changes on the inside, the backyard had a radical transformation over the course of the four years I was there.  The book that gave me the probability of whether that fern would die:  The Book of Outdoor Gardening published by Smith & Hawken.  I was surprised to find that a few copies of this book are still available and the paperback version is a cheap as a flat of pansies.

Do you have a favorite garden reference book?  Spring is nearly official so good luck planting something new.

Circle

I had a small chat with my mother last night about books. There are a few recently published titles which are on her list and which may end up in her stocking. (Stocking is loosely interpreted in my house.) She had no preference to hard cover or paperback as she gives them to another reader when she is done.

In the area where my parents live, most communities have a "prayer circle" so that if one person gets news about a death, illness, or even that their cows are out (seriously), that person can contact the next person in the circle (or list for those not as skilled in the art of PowerPoint). It is a pretty effective means of communication and avoids two or three people calling Bob and everyone forgetting to call Linda.

So this morning I am wondering if the book circle continues past my mom's friend which generates a host of other questions. Are they all like-minded readers? Could we create a book circle where books get shifted about? Or is the system that mom employs more like a library, just without the card and the fines? What would happen to the books when they get back to the beginning of the circle? I imagined an outlet point and then the circle starts to look like the male gender symbol. So now having consumed copious amounts of caffeine while typing, I have stopped pondering the circle. If you have ideas, let me know.

Phone Home

Reading through Reading through The Restaurant at the End of the Universe has kept me entertained through the quiet haze of the morning after the holiday. It is approximately 40 degrees colder than two days ago and I am committing to a scarf for the end of year. (If only I could apply this same devotion to relationships.)

Bright skies, a good book, decorated trees, and acoustic carols in the kitchen at 2 a.m. have transitioned me gently to the holiday season.

Side Effects May Include

The focus this weekend was rest. I had ample time to devote to reading but I discovered last night that books about zombies and some medications will combine for some pretty far out dreams.

So today, I knitted.

Reel Love

I am still moving through The Potting Shed Papers, enjoying the various essays related to gardening. The author highlights some helpful advice such as keeping a gardening journal or at a minimum, a map of planting so one does not remove a Latin name I cannot remember thinking it was another Latin name I cannot remember. Important stuff.

One of my favourite chapters was "Machines" which highlights some of the tools the author uses in his garden. Several years ago when selecting a lawn mower for the small patch of grass which we called our yard, I pushed for an eco-friendly, quiet version something like this. My boyfriend at the time was not thrilled (understatement) with my selection, noting the manual labor required for use. He was also thinking ahead at the time of purchase; he would be using that mower a lot more than I would be. In addition to the aforementioned reasons, I also thought this model would be less likely to be stolen. At the time, the neighborhood was a bit rough around the edges. Anyway, though my mountain bike was one day lifted, this lawn mower was never a target. Elliott also shares a similar story of theft in "Machines" where only his hand tools were left untouched.

Moral: old school tools will not let you down.

Silver Bells and Cockle shells

I am continuing down the garden path with The Potting-Shed Papers by Charles Elliott. This is a title of which I own two copies. (I blame this on a faulty, meaning non-existent until I moved, inventory system.) Mr. Elliott is an American who moves to Britain and this collection of essays moves between his anecdotal recollections and practical advice. His use of language is superb, though my limited knowledge of Latin flowers made the "Names" essay a bit of work. The book has made me smile and wish again for my little backyard garden. I am inspired to create a little balcony haven though I will have to consult another book or two to see what fares well in this heat.

Mail Stereotypes

Last night I arrived home to find a second package awaiting my attention. The first, delivered to the office, contained two future reads by Joshilyn Jackson while the second held my favorite cookie. The two will combine very nicely for a lazy reading weekend. Of course, with my current battle for a full night's rest, these two could combine very nicely for a three a.m. read, but this connection would be bad for the hips indeed.

I am moving through Handler's work fairly quickly. Each chapter is a short (see also her chapter entitled 'My Little Nugget') tale of an encounter of the closest kind. [This is the moment where I will not draw any parallels to my own life.]

So, moving right along...next in the queue, I will add gods in Alabama courtesy of GBC Paige. I do not plan to read the book jacket so that I will be pleasantly surprised when I learn this book is not about football, Bear Bryant, or peaches.

Good Help is Hard to Find

It is hot. It is really hot. So hot, you wish you had a fan and a glass which has beads of water on the outside with your icy coca-cola on the inside melting into your ice cubes. You are remembering the porch of your youth and your grandparents or your favorite Auntie. The air is still (save the sirens in our downtown dwellings, but even they seem far away). And you are reading The Help for GBC's next meeting if you have not already done so. With the weather near or above 100F and the air thick as a good meringue, this is the time to delve into this month's read.

Luckily for me and thanks to my sis, I am ahead of the curve for this month, meaning I will have no (okay, less) shame via my Skype presence. I have already shared my comments on the read, so what do you think?

A Glass in July

I entered my house today with a conflict of perspective. "It is empty," said the part of my brain which has been accustomed to this address as "home" for nearly the last four years. "There is still quite a bit of stuff to deal with," said the part of my brain focused on task and the motions of moving forward.

I use "I have nearly finished the book" when I am enjoying the read or "it is almost done" when I am not. Two sides to describe every story that has one ending.

How will we describe our July read?

Buzz Kill

In new surroundings, the small, familiar things bring comfort: a favorite coffee mug, a hair dryer, a clean towel, a map (if one has the foresight to actually own one), and a favorite author. Despite having some sort of guidance system other than a compass, the rest of the items have made my new little space feel more like home. My favorite author for this week is Larsson. I stepped into the farmhouse with Blomkvist and Salander just as easily as I left it at the beginning of the year. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest just might be a metaphor for my next thirty days.

Here Comes the Son

As chief/chef (a friend of mine intermixes these quite frequently) blogger, I would like to extend a most hearty welcome to our youngest GBC member, Emerson. In his honour, I offer a few words from Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's Nature (sourced here) as your muse for the day:

To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood.

There's Snow Place Like Home

Today's weather forecast has resulted in a cancellation of my normal Friday routine, and I will admit I am a bit happy about this change. The sky is grey, and I am relatively certain I saw a tiny snowflake fall to the deck. I am drinking coffee out of my red mug as I sit at the computer, and I plan to spend the next few hours curled up on the sofa with my unread book. Am I a lucky girl? Oh, most definitely.