The Beginning of the End

Just a few hours of 2019 left as I type. I took down the seasonal decorations this morning and things look a bit bare, as they always do. I put up my little autumn creations on the autumnal equinox, add the few Halloween-ish things I have for the month of October, and then put up the Christmas/winter stuff the day after Thanksgiving (even though that's not a thing here). For three months there are things hanging round that help me celebrate my best part of the year. When I take them down, it makes me a little bit sad. But I guess that's part of the whole seasonal thing--I enjoy 'my' season all the more because I know it's fleeting.

Happily, no matter the season, there are always books to immerse myself in--what would I do without them?!

Here are the first few books on my last monthly list of the year and decade:
December by Elizabeth H. Winthrop

I re-donated this to a charity shop as soon as I finished reading it, because I figured it was a good time for them to sell it. I loved this book. I could feel for Isabelle and her attempts to control things and her fears about what her actions might unleash.

The book moves back and forth between narrators--sometimes we hear from Isabelle, sometimes her mother, and as I recall, sometimes her father. The ending was a little abrupt, but it did fit in with the storyline.

This Year It Will Be Different by Maeve Binchy
I first came across this book in e-audiobook format when scrolling through the library website one day. I borrowed it, but didn’t get to it. Then it dawned on me (duh!) that I could probably find the book in a charity shop. I found it in a couple of shops. It’s a short story collection in which all of the stories take place at Christmastime and each has a bit of an edge. It was a pleasant read.

A Woman in the Polar Night: The Classic Memoir of a Year in the Arctic Wilderness by Christianne Ritter, translated by Jane Degras
I came across this title when I was scrolling through the e-book section of the library website devoted to books new to the system and I immediately put myself in the queue. I had access to it earlier than expected, downloaded it and happily read it. This is the blurb from the library site:
'In 1934, the painter Christiane Ritter leaves her comfortable life in Austria and travels to the remote Arctic island of Spitsbergen, to spend a year there with her husband. She thinks it will be a relaxing trip, a chance to "read thick books in the remote quiet and, not least, sleep to my heart's content", but when Christiane arrives she is shocked to realize that they are to live in a tiny ramshackle hut on the shores of a lonely fjord, hundreds of miles from the nearest settlement, battling the elements every day, just to survive.

At first, Christiane is horrified by the freezing cold, the bleak landscape the lack of equipment and supplies... But as time passes, after encounters with bears and seals, long treks over the ice and months on end of perpetual night, she finds herself falling in love with the Arctic's harsh, otherworldly beauty, gaining a great sense of inner peace and a new appreciation for the sanctity of life.

Born in 1897, Christiane Ritter was an Austrian artist and author. She wrote A Woman in the Polar Night on her return to Austria from Spitsbergen in 1934. It has since become a classic of travel writing, never going out of print in German and being translated into seven other languages. Christiane Ritter died in Vienna in 2000 at the age of 103.'

 I loved this book. It’s pretty amazing to consider how they lived in such a place at that time, without all the technology that exists today. It would have been a huge change for her, living that way, especially because she had servants in the home she left in Austria. I was once again grateful to have been able to live in the arctic and sub-arctic before it warms up and melts. I was thinking with sadness about how different this part of the world is now as human-caused climate change speeds up. At one point, she mentions ‘the world war’ and I was reminded that when she wrote this, there had still been just the one, although later in the book, we know they have concerns about what will be coming.

As we begin a new year and decade, I wish you very happy and healthy 2020 and beyond.

Happy New Year!

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Bookish Plans for 2020

As we zoom towards a new year, I've been thinking about my book plans for 2020. As always, there will be a bunch of library requests and many books that I have not even heard of yet. But there are some plans I can make now regarding books I want to make it a point to read or listen to, in some cases.

I have acquired several short story collections that are several hundred pages apiece. The biggest one is the book of 100 Best Crime Stories Written by Women as selected by Sophie Hannah. That one weighs in at over 1000 pages. Others are not quite as hefty, but still take up a bunch of space. I think I am going to love or at least really like these books, but the possibility exists that I won't, so I want to make it a point to actually read them and find out. There is no point having these books take up space, of which I have very little, if I don't like them. If I read them and decide I don't want to keep them or if I begin and find I don't wish to continue, I can donate them and free up space.

Another thing I want to do is to get to some classics--Dickens, Trollope, Gaskell, and many others. When a friend gave me an e-reader, I immediately went to Project Gutenberg and downloaded many such books. I've been carrying them around since--they take up no physical space, so are easy enough to carry around. I always told myself that I should prioritise print books, which either need to be returned to the library or have been picked up at the charity shop with no plans to keep once read. I want to fit in some classics this year around the other books. I recently listened to a booktube video about audiobooks and the vlogger was listing audiobook versions that she liked. Many of the audiobooks she talked about were classics and I thought to myself, 'Why have you never checked the library website for e-audiobook versions of some of these books? Duh!' I immediately did a search and found a bunch, so I've reserved a couple of those and will plan to keep requesting them. I can listen to those while I'm stitching.

In addition to those plans, I want to read further into the Mrs Bradley mystery series. There are over 60 of those and I request a few at a time from the library. Also, there have been a couple other series recommended to me that I want to start or continue. I have not read Louise Penney's Inspector Gamache books, but I will request the first one and see whether I like it. Also, the Amanda Peabody series was suggested as one I would enjoy. I did request the first one of that and liked it, so plan to continue on in the new year.

That seems like enough plans to be getting on with for now. I know that I have to leave room for the unexpected. I'm always ready for happy bookish surprises!

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It's True!

'Forever is composed of nows.'  --Emily Dickinson

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Never Run Out of Things to Read

This afternoon, I started reading The Lake House by Kate Morton. This paragraph made me chuckle and brought back a memory from my own childhood.

'Peter did like reading. He'd read his way through the entire children's section of the Kilburn Library by the time he was eight, a feat that might have been a source of pride and celebration but for the problem posed by him still being years off acquiring the adult borrowing card. Thank God for Miss Talbot, who'd bitten her lip and straightened the library name badge on her lemon cardigan, and told him--a faint quiver of purpose enlivening her usually soft smooth voice--that she would personally ensure that he would never run out of things to read. She was a magician as far as Peter was concerned. Decipherer of secret codes, master of index cards and Dewey decimal, opener of doors to wonderful places.' (p73-74)

I don't recall being limited to the children's section of the public library when I was a kid, but I do remember that when I was in second or third grade, there was a section of the school library for the younger kids and one for the older kids. The younger kids were limited to books from 'our' section, but there wasn't really anything there for me. It wasn't the librarian that came to my rescue, though. In fact, as I recall, she was quite unhappy when I went to the desk with books from the section for older kids and tried to stop me checking them out. When I told her my parents had written a letter to the school, giving permission for me to check out whatever I wanted and she'd verified that, she had to relent. Decades later, when I worked briefly at a public library, I was told at my interview that the library policy was to check out any book to anyone, no matter the book and no matter the age of the borrower. Most librarians I have known are more like Miss Talbot than my old school librarian. Hurray for that!

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Happy Christmas!

Happy Christmas to all who celebrate the season. Happy Wednesday to those who don't. I hope your days are wonderful and may 2020 bring health, joy, inner peace, and many happy surprises.

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Christmas Bloom

When we got back from Dungloe the other day, we discovered that the first bloom on our Christmas cactus was starting to open.

This cactus has come a long way in two years. We grew it from one little segment that had broken off a plant that had been sold by a grocery store. The mother plant had been bought (and I wonder whether it survived because that store always over-watered their plants and they had a tendency to rot). There were a couple of pieces on the shelf, so Bill brought them home. First we stuck them in water, but that didn't work too well, so he put one in dirt and we waited. Nothing much happened for a while one way or the other. It didn't grow, but it didn't shrivel up, either, so we figured that was a good sign. Then one day, we saw signs that new segments were going to grow. After that, new growth was busting out ll over the place. Last month, for the first time, we saw buds appearing and we realised it was going to bloom this year. Yay!

We have another cactus growing from a segment that fell off of this plant when we moved. Maybe one Christmas, they can bloom together.

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Chocolate Mocha Bread

I made some chocolate mocha bread in my bread machine to have for breakfasts and snacks this week.

I just made some substitutions to the usual basic plain whole grain bread that I use as a foundation. Instead of water or milk, I used strong coffee. I added some baking cocoa, mini dark chocolate chips, coconut, and chopped walnuts. I use strong wholemeal flour in the machine and I always add a bunch of porridge oats (salt and yeast, too, of course). I realise as I type that I forgot to add vanilla, which I could have done (or almond extract). No matter--it's delicious as it is. I like it heated up or toasted with butter butter and raspberry or strawberry jam, or peanut butter. Yum! 😋

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Happy Solstice!

The winter solstice is always bittersweet for me. Most people celebrate the return of the light, but that is what makes me sad. For me, the winter solstice is a day to appreciate the longest night of the year--and I do. I love the brief part of the year when it gets light later in the morning and dark in the late afternoon. We gain daylight quickly here and by summer, we will have just a few hours of darkness each night. I will enjoy the dark while it lasts!

I hope this is a beautiful day in your part of the world.

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A Festive Day in Dungloe

Bill and I went off for an overnight stay yesterday. We went to Dungloe, a small town in Co Donegal. With a population of 1164 people, it is slightly smaller than Killybegs, which has a population of 1236. In spite of its small size, Dungloe is the main town in an area known as The Rosses. It's a lovely little town and I loved walking around there--especially when we went out again at around 4 as it was just starting to become dark. By the time we got back to the B&B, it was completely dark. We walked around town and enjoyed the Christmas lights and window displays and then we went around the corner to the quay and walked the path along the water's edge and along the pier. It was so quiet and beautiful. I felt such a sense of peace, joy, and contentment. Here are some pictures I took during the day when we first got there and then on our evening walk.

outside The Cope store

where the river meets the sea

 

christmas 'tree' at the end of the pier

clouds coming in

lights on main street

we were in a gaeltacht area, so many signs in irish, like this bar

low tide

night falling

the 'tree' at the end of the pier again

looking northwest

We could see the 'tree' at the end of the pier from our room, which was nice. When we opened the curtains this morning, the sun was hitting the hill and gave it a golden glow. The sun was soon hidden behind clouds, which was OK with me.

It was a really wonderful quick getaway. I'm so glad we went!

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Fun Cards

I've gotten some fun cards from a couple of friends these last couple of days. I am posting them here so others can enjoy them, too.

This one made us laugh when I opened it this morning:

This one is a card based on artwork by Su Blackwell, which is paper-and book-based (her website is here and full of eye candy!). I love her work and have shared some of her blog posts with a couple of people. One friend got me this card because she knew I loved this artist's work.

Sorry about the glare on the left of the photos--it's quite dark in here today and I had to get the cards under a lamp to get decent pics. This continues to be a very dark grey day full of rain and wind--in short, it's my kind of day! I am making soup and grilled cheese for supper--it's the right kind of food for this kind of day 😋

I hope that you're enjoying this day, too!

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Music

One of my personal seasonal traditions involves listening to certain music. I've gotten lots of Christmas music through the years, as gifts, as purchases I've made, a Christmas countdown that we recorded from the radio during the first few years of our marriage, and I even have a recording of the two Christmas albums that I used to hear most often as a child. About 15 years ago, Bill digitised all of our music, so we would still have access to it, even without a turntable, tape player, or CD player. I've been listening to some of it every year for more than half a century!

Over 20 years ago, when we were living in Fairbanks, we used to listen to a show on the radio called Music from the Hearts of Space, which played a lot of music that wasn't mainstream. There was a lot of ambient music and other sort of  'quiet' music. In Fairbanks, at least, it was on in the latter part of Sunday night. It was on that show that I first heard of Loreena McKennitt and I have loved her music ever since. Her song, Snow, is one of my favourite Christmas songs, even though I usually listen to it in November. Here is a link to a video of a live performance of the song. I think it's a bit over 4 minutes long. It's a beautiful song--one of many by her. It is on her album To Drive the Cold Winter Away, which is an excellent album. There is a slightly different version on her EP A Winter's Garden, which is 5 songs for the season--that is also wonderful.

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Memory Lane

This morning I was answering an email in which someone asked me something about Christmas in Ireland. I told her about our first Christmas here when we lived in Ballinrobe and how it was one of the best Christmas Eves I have ever had. Nothing at all spectacular happened and yet it stays in my mind and brings me a sense of joy and peace when I think about it even now.

It was a dark and drizzly evening when we set out on a walk that evening after supper. Everything closes early on Christmas Eve anyway, and the streets were deserted. It was just us, the drizzle, and the Christmas lights strung all around the town. The windows of the shops and businesses had low lighting on, so the Christmas displays could be seen and enjoyed. It was so quiet and so beautiful. We walked for a while and then went home and had cocoa.

When I think of that night, I am reminded of how my approach to the festive season has changed from what it was years ago. When I was in academia, it was wonderful to be able to turn my attention to getting into Christmas baking and stitching. For the majority of my academic life, I was in institutions that were on a term system, so we were done by this time of year and I was free to enjoy the run-up to Christmas. We went bck just after the new year, which suited me just fine. When I moved to a university that ran on a semester system, I was not done until a couple of days before Christmas, which I hated. I felt like there was never enough time to really get into it and do all I wanted to do. Even though we ditched a big meal on Christmas Day over 35 years ago, in favour of munchies that could mostly be prepared ahead of time, there was a lot I was doing in the days before Christmas itself.

As I think about that lovely evening in Ballinrobe, I see how different I am now. Instead of lamenting that I do not have time to do everything, I have happily done less and less each year. I would be really annoyed and unhappy if I felt like I had to do all of the things I used to do. I loved it then and now I wouldn't. I suspect that had I been forced to do Christmas then the way I do now, I would've hated it at the time, even though I love it now.

I have often thought about how busy I used to be in general and how much I was doing. For a time in grad school, I was setting the alarm for 2 am and putting it across the room, so I would have to get up to turn it off. Then I would begin my day. I was tired all the time, but I was also energised in a weird way. I was doing a lot of stuff and it was work I am still proud of. But there is no way I would want to be that busy now. I seem to value peace, quiet, and life in the slow lane more and more as the years go by and that is especially the case during the festive season. I am grateful that I am able to have that kind of life at the moment.

I recently read a book about the Christmas experiences of British people. I was struck by how many of them hated Christmas, until they were in a situation in which they could not mark the day as they usually did. For some, they were in a place where Christmas wasn't a thing, so there were no expectations. For others, they could not spend the day with the people they usually did, so they made arrangements with others or spent the day alone. Some people found themselves unable to afford the usual Christmas 'stuff' so had to get creative. In every case presented in the book, these people discovered that, when done the way they wanted to do it instead of how they were expected to do it, Christmas could be enjoyable. That's the key, I think--doing what makes you happy, whether that's being busy or slowing down. Each has worked for me at different times in my life, but that's probably because I was doing things my way and not telling myself what I 'should' be doing.

Years ago I read an article written by a woman who struggled with this. She was overwhelmed every year--exhausted and miserable. She decided that she wanted to enjoy Christmas, too, so she read some self-help stuff and set about following the suggestions given for simplifying the holiday season. Turns out, she was still miserable, because she missed some of the stuff she used to do. She realised that the key was deciding what was important to her and what wasn't, so she could keep the former and stop doing the latter.

Some years have been tough for various reasons. One year, Bill was sick at Christmas. Before that, one of our cats died a week and a half before Christmas and our dog died exactly a week after the cat. Needless to say, none of us felt like celebrating anything that year. It has not always been fun. But by and large, I have always enjoyed this time of year. My priorities have changed, and my way of 'celebrating' looks nothing like the usual images and nothing ike they used to, but that's OK. I hope that, whatever your December looks like and whether you celebrate the season (cultural, natural, or religious) or not, you are able to be engaged in the activities that bring you joy with the people you most want to be with.

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Wednesday Words of Wisdom

'Home is a place in the mind.'
            --Maeve Brennan in The Visitor

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Festive

We don't really exchange Christmas gifts anymore. We send a few cards and make a donation to Animals in Need, but other than that, the only gifts we give are a few things we send to our daughter. There are new customs regulations for things going to the US, so when I sent her a parcel a couple of months ago, it took 5 weeks to arrive. I sent the Christmas parcel a couple of weeks ago and hoped it would get there in time. This time it only took a week.

Here are  few of the festive things I made for her:

The pattern for this coaster was in a magazine she'd sent me last year. I planned to make it for her this year and when she sent me a Rudolph ornament that says, 'Mom' a couple of months ago, it seemed particularly appropriate. We have a thing about Rudolph in our family.

I always make her some kind of blue Christmas tree. When she was small, we lived in an apartment that was at the end of a cul-de-sac. There was a sort of platform on each building above the door and at Christmastime they'd place trees strung with blue lights on these. Every evening as it would start to get dark, she'd look out of her bedroom window, which gave her a view of the whole street, and would call out, 'The blue trees are on, Mom!' when the lights would be turned on.

This year, I had a metal piece from a deconstructed bracelet I picked up at a charity shop in Ballina when we were there a couple of months ago and I wanted to use that. I went back and forth about how to make the tree, but when I found a 'posh scrap' of roving, I opted to needle felt it. I'd used some of the same roving a couple of years ago to make her an ornament, so the tree will match.

I used other beads and bits from deconstructed necklaces found in charity shops to embellish. The roving has some sparkly strands in it that catch the light. I like the wonky shape that resulted when I did the embroidery.

This is the the other ornament I made for her with the same roving, which you can see a little better:

I also made her a hat, using a pattern a friend had sent me a few years ago for what she calls a pocket hat. It's made in ribbing, so is very stretchy, but when not on a head, is very compact, so it scrunches up to fit in a pocket. During the summer, I found a single skein of a very soft and fluffy bright blue yarn with a metallic thread wrap in a charity shop. I bought it knowing I'd make something for her with it and eventually I decided on the hat. I have just a small scrap ball left from the skein, so it was the perfect project for the yarn.

So I'm all done with the Christmas stitching. It's a very quiet and simple time of year, so I am very much enjoying listening to music, A Christmas Carol in various permutations, and just being during my best time of the year.

I hope you're enjoying the time of year, too.

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Wednesday Words of Wisdom

This was a Pace e Bene email a few days ago:

"A blackbird found a large piece of food in the village and lit out into the sky with the food in its beak. A flock of his brothers chased after him and raucously attacked the food, pulling it from his beak. The blackbird finally let go of the last piece and the frenzied flock left him alone. The bird swooped and dived and thought, 'I have lost the food but I have regained the peaceful sky.'"

—Sufi Story

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Last of the November Books (and Plays): Irish Authors

I read the work of some Irish authors last month, all of which I enjoyed a lot.

The River Capture by Mary Costello

I’ve read this author’s previous books, which are short story collections, and enjoyed them a lot. So when this novel came up as I was scrolling through the list of new e-books at the library website, I borrowed it. It’s a beautifully written book, but not a straightforward narrative.

Luke O’Brien is 34 and in a bit of a liminal state. He is really, really into James Joyce, particularly the character of Leopold Bloom. He is on a career break from his job at a boy’s school in Dublin and living alone at the family farm, his mother and elderly aunt having died a few years before. He had thought he might write a book about Joyce while on this break, but he hasn’t even started and his two years are almost up. Soon, he will have to decide what to do.

In the first part of the book, we learn about Luke and what led up to this point in his life, while at the same time, moving through his day-to-day life with him. Then Luke hits a crisis point and he has either an epiphany or a delusional episode or perhaps a bit of both. At this point, the narrative structure changes. The account of Luke’s activities is mixed in with accounts of where his mind is going as he is engaging in these activities. It is as though someone is observing and reporting. I suspect that someone who is at least familiar with James Joyce would have gotten more out of that section of the book than I did, but even though I am without any knowledge (or particular interest) in Joyce’s work I could get the general idea. At the very end of the book, there are a couple of pages written in the first person from Luke’s point of view.

I found this to be a strange book in some ways, but a good one nonetheless.

A Line Made by Walking by Sara Baume

I discovered this book in the e-book section of the library website. This is the description provided:

‘Struggling to cope with urban life – and with life in general – Frankie, a twenty-something artist, retreats to the rural bungalow on ‘turbine hill’ that has been vacant since her grandmother’s death three years earlier. It is in this space, surrounded by nature, that she hopes to regain her footing in art and life. She spends her days pretending to read, half-listening to the radio, failing to muster the energy needed to leave the safety of her haven. Her family come and go, until they don’t and she is left alone to contemplate the path that led her here, and the smell of the carpet that started it all.

Finding little comfort in human interaction, Frankie turns her camera lens on the natural world and its reassuring cycle of life and death. What emerges is a profound meditation on the interconnectedness of wilderness, art and individual experience, and a powerful exploration of human frailty.’

It is a slightly weird, but oddly compelling book. This is not a book with a neat and tidy ending, but that is as it should be. Since it’s not a neat and tidy book, such an ending would be out of place.

The writing is excellent. The book is structured in mostly short paragraphs and we move back and forth in time, which is a reflection of Frankie’s disjointed thoughts.

Big Maggie by John B Keane

I was scrolling through the e-book section of the library website and this title appeared. When we first got to Ireland, a theatre in Dublin was staging this play and had ads on the radio, so I remembered the name. It sounded intriguing, so I borrowed it. To say that I liked it wouldn’t be quite right. It’s a very powerful piece of work, but it did sometimes leave me breathless thinking about the sadness of a life spent existing instead of living and with the anger of what societal expectations and repressive religious ideologies.

When the play opens, it is the 1960s in rural Ireland. We are at the funeral of Walter Polpin, who died shortly after his 60^th birthday. His widow, Maggie, is happy enough at this turn of events. He was a jerk, who treated her and their kids badly. One of the kids, the oldest daughter, Kate, was daddy’s favourite and she is sad about his death. The others, Mick, Maurice, and Gert (in order of their ages), don’t seem as pleased as Maggie, but like her feel liberated. Their feelings are short-lived, however, when Maggie makes it clear that Walter signed over the farm and their shop to her, so they won;t get anything and she is now in control. The family dysfunction continues. The play ends with a soliloquy by Maggie in which we learn how she ended up where she finds herself, and see that she is more than the unfeeling, angry, over-controlling woman portrayed throughout the play.

The themes Keane addresses in this work include family relationships, gender roles, the culture of rural Ireland in the 1960s, the harm dome by the Catholic church, freedom from societal expectation and the price one pays for going against the grain, even unwillingly.

Moll by John B Keane

After reading Big Maggie, I was interested in more of Keane’s work, so went back to the e-book section of the library to see what they have. This was available, so I borrowed it. Like Big Maggie, this play revolves around a strong woman, but this play, unlike the other one, is very funny. Two curates and a canon live together in the parish of Ballast. It is 1971 and the move to decimal money has been the cause, at least in their opinion, of their trusted housekeeper deciding to marry a guy from New Jersey, USA and move there with him. Unaccustomed to doing anything for themselves, the situation is dire and they are eager to replace her as quickly as they can. They hire Moll, who comes with at least one excellent reference. Moll has ideas about how things need to be. The canon, who is the senior of the three priests, is delighted by how things unfold. The other two, not so much. The two curates are way out of their league, of course and Moll knows what she’s doing, so she runs things her way.

I've started my December pile, which contains a few seasonal collections I definitely want to read this month, along with a couple of recent finds that I'm eager to dive into. And who knows what will strike my fancy as we move through the month. I've stopped requesting library books for the time being, so I can read some of the books I have at home.

Happy reading!

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A Bit of Mystery

Yesterday I posted the first of the books I read in November. I'm continuing that today with the mysteries I read last month.
Three Bags Full by Leonie Swan translated from German by Anthea Bell

I found this book on a cart of books for sale at the Central Branch of the Donegal Library when we went to Letterkenny one dy. Actually, Bill found it and pointed it out to me.

I loved the cover and when I read what it was about, I knew it was coming home with me, even though I wasn't totally sure I would like it. It was a good decision, because I loved it. It was funny and actually quite a bit more substantive than I would have thought from reading the dust jacket. It's very philosophical and even a bit ethnographic.

One day, a flock of sheep in the fictional Irish town of Glennkill discover their shepherd dead--and foul play appears to be involved. The sheep, lead by the smartest sheep, Miss Maple, are used to books that their shepherd would read to them. They decide that they are going to find out what happened, so they begin to try to figure out the story and solve the mystery, using what they know of how stories work to assist their thinking. Along the way, they have to figure out human behaviour (and notice how often it is like that of sheep) and determine what is the nature of human reality. 

Bodies in the Library by Marty Wingate

This is the first book in a new cosy mystery series featuring Hayley Burke. I found it in the e-book section of the library website and I’m hoping they will have subsequent books as they come out. This one was published in 2019, but I’m not sure if that’s the regular book, the e-book, or both.

Hayley Burke has a new job as curator of the First Edition Society, located in Bath, where Jane Austen gets most of the literary attention. This is a library/society dedicated to first editions of Golden Age mystery books written by women, with Daphne du Maurier included, because the woman who founded the society (Lady Georgiana Fowling) liked her work, too. Lady Fowling also wrote a kind of fan fiction of her own, so those books are also included. Lady Georgiana has died and created her will so as to support the society, which doesn’t sit well with her greedy nephew, who has engaged in shady tricks to try to get the will overturned, driving off the first curator in the process. Ms Burke, already working at the Jane Austen Centre as a sort of PA gets the job with the help of a friend who is on the board. One problem for her is that she’s not familiar with Golden Age detective fiction. As she tells one of the other characters, her degree is in 19^th century English literature—she read Trollope, not Tey. She does have some ideas for the society, though, most of which don’t sit well with the elderly secretary, Mrs Woolgar, who isn’t fond of new ideas. The resident cat, Bunter, is happy as long as his food is presented on time and the catnip mice keep coming. When Hayley discovers that a fan fiction writing group is in search of a meeting place, she offers them the use of the library. Mrs Woolgar is not pleased, especially when the leader of the group is found dead in the library one morning. What are the similarities between this body in the library and Christie’s? What would Miss Marple do?

This was a really fun read and I’ll be reading more as the books come out, if I have access to them. The author’s website says she also writes a cosy mystery series with a gardening theme, called The Potting Shed mysteries and a series called the Birds of a Feather mysteries.

The Lighthouse by P.D. James

Colour Scheme by Ngaio Marsh

After reading the PD James book, I felt like more detective fiction, so I turned to my e-reader and picked up where I left off In Ngaio Marsh’s Roderick Alleyn series. This one was published in 1943, so it’s unsurprising that WWII features in the story. This one takes place in New Zealand at a resort spa, where the mud baths are thought to have healing properties. It is quite the opposite for one of the characters in the book as he meets his end in one of the boiling mud pits. The red flag marking the danger spot has been removed from its usual spot, so perhaps it was not a tragic accident. And who is the spy signalling from the hills?

Hope this first week of December has started off well!

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New Month, New Titles on Top of the Pile

One of the first things I did when I came downstairs this morning was to remove a few books from the top of the corner shelf where they'd been sitting for a few months. I'd found them in the local charity shop, bought them, and set them up there until December rolled around. Two are Christmas short story collections by Irish writers and one is called December. I'm not sure whether I'll like the latter or not, but I'll soon find out. I'm starting it today and if I don't like it, it'll be a good one for the wee free library. In fact, I doubt I'll keep it even if I do like it, so one way or another, it'll end up there for someone else to enjoy when I'm done with it.

I ended November with a couple of Christmas e-books borrowed from the library.

Christmas Cheer by Vicky Howard

I checked this out from the e-book section of the library. It’s a nice little book of Christmas quotes, recipes, and cute illustrations—very enjoyable to look at while listening to Christmas carols.

A Very British Christmas: Twelve Days of Discomfort and Joy by Rhodri Marsden

This book is about British Christmas traditions and how people there experience them. Once I started, it did not take long to realise that I needed a tissue handy because I could not stop laughing and I needed something to wipe the tears from my face. Some of the stories people shared were really funny and the author also had a witty way of writing. There are some serious and/or sad stories included, but mostly it was really funny. One thing that interested me in reading people’s stories was how several of them really disliked Christmas when they felt the pressure of doing things the ‘right’ way, but ended up having to do Christmas very differently for whatever reason—lack of money, being in a place where Christmas isn’t celebrated, or not being with the usual people, for instance. In each story, these people discovered that they could like Christmas if they did it their way. As someone who does not go for the ‘normal’ trappings of Christmas, I love that. I enjoyed this book a lot.

I also had an unexpected read with this one:

Kumihimo Endings: The Finishing Touch for Every Braid by Pru McRae

When I first read about kumihimo in a blog post over a year ago, I was intrigued and immediately went in search of more information. I discovered this author’s youtube channel and started watching. Then I got some disks and started playing around. Our approaches to kumihimo are different and while I love much of the work she showcases in her videos, I have never wanted to make the kind of finished pieces she demonstrates. Rather, I watch her videos because she explains things well and I’ve learned a lot about process by watching them. I find that I can relate to her experimental approach. One thing I’ve played with is endings. I quickly discovered that people usually buy or make jewellery fittings to finish their braids, whether beaded or not. These are often glued in, but sometimes wired in. With infrequent exceptions, I don’t like the way these look.  I like my braids to be about the thread or yarn I’m using to make them. I don’t bead them, although I might do some small embellishments at the ends. I just don’t like the look of a textile braid shoved into an end cap. I do like the tassels I can have at either end and I’ve usually left it at that, although I’ve experimented with some other beginnings and endings. When Pru McCrae posted a video about her new book on endings, I was curious about it. 

Every once in a while, I search the library website using certain keywords in order to see what new titles have been added to the system. Last year, when I searched for kumihimo, nothing came up. When I searched again recently, several titles came up, including this one. This is a great little book for anyone interested in kumihimo. I ended up surprising myself by reading it cover to cover. It is true that I will not use most of the information provided, but even reading those sections gave me a better understanding of the structure of kumihimo and also some possibilities on how to adapt some of these techniques to my own work. And there were a few sections that include techniques I will use. I expected to possibly find a page or two of this book interesting or useful, but I did not expect to have quite so much information contained in it, so that was a very happy surprise.

I'm not sure why I borrowed this one--I think I was intrigued by the concept:

Morning Glory on the Vine: Early Songs and Drawings by Joni Mitchell

In 1970, when she was considering what to give friends for Christmas, Joni Mitchell had some of her poems, song lyrics, and drawings made into a book.  Only a few copies were printed and it was never published widely until this year. I’ve never been a big fan of Mitchell, although I did have one of her albums in the 80s. Still, when I came cross the title in the poetry section of the library’s e-book pages, I figured I might as well have a look. 

I wasn’t that keen on it, to be honest. I liked one or two of the artworks. The poems were hard to read, because they were presented as photos of her handwritten pages, so sometimes words were hard to decipher. More than once, I misread something and it was only context that caused me to go back and re-read. There was apparently no editing because many words were spelled wrong in ways that would not be due to differences in British and US ways of spelling English words (she's Canadian, so I could see why those would happen and they wouldn't be misspellings, of course, either way). I recognised a few of her more famous songs, but I don’t know how many of the other handwritten pages consisted of song lyrics and how many were poems that didn’t become songs.

This was a wonderful book:

The Outrun by Amy Liptrot

She writes beautifully and as she describes her journey of recovery and growing self-awareness, she also takes us back to the life she is recovering from. I could relate to some of that--I also used to drink too much. I never got to the point of seizures, as she did at one point, but had I kept drinking, I would have. I drank a lot, until one day, I decided I'd had enough of feeling like crap and stopped. I know that I'm lucky, because the day I decided to stop drinking, I made myself really feel and remember what I felt like--the nausea, the headache, the shakiness, the inability to do anything other than wait to feel better. Not only did I never crave a drink after that, but I actually felt repelled by the idea. That was 24 years ago. I suppose we all have to find what works for us in these situations. To her surprise, the author found herself back where she grew up--the very place she was so eager to leave a decade before. As she begins to pay attention to that world and place her attention on the landscape and wildlife around her, she begins to grow, heal, and find new ways of being. She found interests that surprised her and followed where they led her. I fell in love with Orkney as I was reading this book. It sounds like my kind of place--northern, remote, not many people, gorgeous landscape, windy, short summers, and plenty of cold. If I was younger, I'd be looking for ways to go live there. The book is worth reading for the nature writing alone.

I'll continue the November book list tomorrow, but in the meantime, I'm off to start December.

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Happy Thanksgiving/Happy Thursday

To those of you in the US or elsewhere in the world celebrating today, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else, happy Thursday! Although it's a regular Thursday here in our adopted country, this is the one US holiday we still observe, because it's always a good day to consciously express gratitude.

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Right Place, Right Time

We had a couple of errands to do this morning, one of which took us right by the charity shop, so we popped in. I made a beeline to the book room, starting on the right side as I usually do. As I was scanning the shelves, one of the volunteers came in with several books and was sticking them wherever she could find a spot. She was behind me and Bill was next to her, looking at the books on that side. I heard him say, 'There's an Agatha Christie.' As I was turning around, I was replying that I probably already had it on my e-reader. Then I saw that I was wrong. There was one of her novels that I do already have, but the book that had just been placed on the shelf was this one:

I wasted no time grabbing the book off of the shelf, where it had rested for a mere 30 seconds or so. 😀 I'd heard of this book when it was published a decade ago--somehow I was offered a free e-book that was an excerpt or a preview or something. I had it on my e-reader for a while before I read that and I knew that there was a more in-depth book out there, but never remembered to request it from the library. I'm glad to have it--I've loved Agatha Christie since I was a teenager. As Bill said, 'It's a keeper.'

We kept on browsing and the volunteer came in with more books, commenting on how many they have and how they have trouble finding space for them. I told her that we try to come in regularly to help out by making room on the shelves. She laughed, but she actually was sticking books into the space I had just created. One of the books was this one:

I think the last time I read Chekov, other than a short story or two, was in my very first year of college, when I took a World Lit class. That was over 30 years ago, but I do remember liking him, so I was happy to find this one, too.

One of the books Bill picked up was also one that she was putting on the shelf as we stood there. Clearly we were in the right place at the right time today.

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Christmas and Critters

One of the charity shops we frequent helps to fund Animals in Need Donegal, an organisation which helps all kinds of animals. They have an especially big task when it comes to caring for cats. There are a lot of cats who need help. People don't spay and neuter as much as they should, so cats have kittens and the kittens are often dumped. Animals in Need rescues as many as they have room for, gets them medical care when needed, and places them in foster homes until the are ready to be adopted. We donate to them at various times of the year and always pop into the charity shop when we're in Donegal Town and have time. We like to support them, so when I was looking at a cross-stitch magazine several weeks ago, and came across some cute critter-themed charts, they popped into my head. I got stitching, turned the finished motifs into ornaments and dropped them off today. I thought they could sell them and raise a few euro for the cause.

cotton thread on aida cloth--kumihimo cord on left, crocheted cord on right, felt backing

cloth sewn onto scrap paper with watercoloured background (left) and scrap card stock made from 100% recycled paper (right), crocheted cords

felt backing, crocheted cord

Next time we go, we'll get some cat food and treats and drop that off at the shop. We want all the animals to have a happy Christmas, too 😀

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Monday Monochrome: Under the 'Tree'

On our way home this afternoon, we walked by The Diamond (town square) and under the Christmas 'tree.' I looked up and liked the lines.

The Christmas light switch-on is Sunday evening. Last year the lights on land went on an hour or so before some of the big boats switched theirs on. Some sailboats at the pier had lights, too. Pretty!

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Poem: November

I get a Poem-a-Day email from poets.org. This is the one I got today:

November by Lucy Larcom (originally published in Wild Roses of Cape Ann and Other Poems in 1881)

Who said November’s face was grim?
    Who said her voice was harsh and sad?
I heard her sing in wood paths dim,
   I met her on the shore, so glad,
So smiling, I could kiss her feet!
There never was a month so sweet.


October’s splendid robes, that hid
   The beauty of the white-limbed trees,
Have dropped in tatters; yet amid
   Those perfect forms the gazer sees
A proud wood-monarch here and there
Garments of wine-dipped crimson wear.

In precious flakes the autumnal gold
    Is clinging to the forest’s fringe:
Yon bare twig to the sun will hold
   Each separate leaf, to show the tinge
Of glorious rose-light reddening through
Its jewels, beautiful as few.


Where short-lived wild-flowers bloomed and died
   The slanting sunbeams fall across
Vine-broideries, woven from side to side
   Above mosaics of tinted moss.
So does the Eternal Artist’s skill
Hide beauty under beauty still.


And, if no note of bee or bird
   Through the rapt stillness of the woods
Or the sea’s murmurous trance be heard,
    A Presence in these solitudes
Upon the spirit seems to press
The dew of God’s dear silences.


Who said November’s face was grim?
    Who said her voice was harsh and sad?
I heard her sing in wood paths dim,
   I met her on the shore, so glad,
So smiling, I could kiss her feet!
There never was a month so sweet.


October’s splendid robes, that hid
   The beauty of the white-limbed trees,
Have dropped in tatters; yet amid
   Those perfect forms the gazer sees
A proud wood-monarch here and there
Garments of wine-dipped crimson wear.


In precious flakes the autumnal gold
    Is clinging to the forest’s fringe:
Yon bare twig to the sun will hold
   Each separate leaf, to show the tinge
Of glorious rose-light reddening through
Its jewels, beautiful as few.


Where short-lived wild-flowers bloomed and died
   The slanting sunbeams fall across
Vine-broideries, woven from side to side
   Above mosaics of tinted moss.
So does the Eternal Artist’s skill
Hide beauty under beauty still.


And, if no note of bee or bird
   Through the rapt stillness of the woods
Or the sea’s murmurous trance be heard,
    A Presence in these solitudes
Upon the spirit seems to press
The dew of God’s dear silences.


And if, out of some inner heaven,
    With soft relenting comes a day
Whereto the heart of June is given, —
   All subtle scents and spicery
Through forest crypts and arches steal,
With power unnumbered hurts to heal.

Through yonder rended veil of green,
   That used to shut the sky from me,
New glimpses of vast blue are seen;
    I never guessed that so much sea
Bordered my little plot of ground,
And held me clasped so close around.

This is the month of sunrise skies
      Intense with molten mist and flame;
Out of the purple deeps arrive
      Colors no painter yet could name:
Gold-lilies and the cardinal-flower
Were pale against this gorgeous hour.

Still lovelier when athwart the east
      The level beam of sunset falls:
The tints of wild-flowers long deceased
       Glow then upon the horizon walls;
Shades of the rose and violet
Close to their dear world lingering yet.

What idleness, to moan and fret
       For any season fair, gone by!
Life’s secret is not guessed at yet;
       Veil under veil its wonders lie.
Through grief and loss made glorious
The soul of past joy lives in us.


More welcome than voluptous gales
       This keen, crisp air, as conscience clear:
November breathes no flattering tales;—
       The plain truth-teller of the year,
Who wins her heart, and he alone,
Knows she has sweetness all her own.

Lucy Larcom was born in 1824 and grew up in Beverly, Massachusetts. She is the author of several poetry collections, including A New England Girlhood (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1889) and An Idyl of Work (James R. Osgood and Company, 1875). She taught at Wheaton Seminary from 1854 to 1862, and died in 1893.

I hope you're having a lovely November day!

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Following Up

Yesterday, I posted some thoughts about buying used books, after watching a video on the topic that got me thinking. I realised that my thinking about the ethics of buying used books fits in with my larger ethical stance on avoiding waste and trying to use fewer resources. This is not only an ethical thought pattern for me, it is how I live. At this point, it is the only way I feel comfortable living, even though it gets in the way of some other things I sometimes think about doing. In everyone's life, there are situations where our ideals are in conflict with one another and we all have to find ways of working through these issues. Each of us will prioritise different things. What is right for me is not going to be right for everyone and I am not suggesting it should be. But as we continue further down the climate crisis road, we all need to take stock of what we can do in our everyday lives to do a better job of caring for our one true home--we have no other. This is especially the case in wealthy countries, like the one I lived in for the first part of my life and my adopted country.

A short time ago, I read this article about attempts to combat waste and minimise what goes into landfill in a major US city. Here's one statistic from the article:
'The U.S. produces more than 250 million tons of waste per year—30 percent of the world’s waste, though it makes up only 4 percent of the Earth’s population. Sixty-five percent of that waste ends up in landfills or incinerators. '

I don't know what the stats are for Ireland, but I am sure there is too much waste here, too.

My attitude towards waste and avoiding it has been a foundational part of my life for many years now. I have sometimes thought about my grandmother and her impact on me in this regard as well as in many areas of my life. I can remember once in a class or something when I was a small child, being asked about someone who I admired most. My answer was that my Nana was that person. Even now, several decades on, I am reminded of how her example shaped my attitudes about many things. Avoiding waste is one of them. I saw how she did this just as a matter of course. It was how she lived. She used things up, reused things that were no longer fit for purpose, found ways of making what she needed without rushing off to a store to buy things. At an earlier time in her life, living this way was a necessity. By the time I knew her, it no longer was, but it was how she felt comfortable being in this world. It is also how I feel comfortable.

So the used book thing ties into that. It's also how I create. I am not comfortable buying a bunch of new stuff, even to create with. I am happiest when I am using someone's unwanted stuff, whether it's scraps and odd balls of yarn, broken or unwanted jewellery, old clothes, scraps of aida cloth or roving, etc. If I get new yarn or other stuff, it is almost always a gift from someone.

Which brings me to the conflict I sometimes have. I have sold my work in the past in various places--online, in a museum gift shop, in art shows--and I have done commissions. I am pretty comfortable with commissions, because someone comes to me with a request and I fill it. I feel like I am meeting a need. I am putting new stuff into the world, but it's functional and is exactly what the person wanted. When I make something to follow through on an idea or push a technique or whatever, it may serve a purpose if it's a functional item--say a hat or sweater or shawl. Or I might end up with a pretty thing. Making it served the purpose of feeding my curiosity, and I may well have learned something in the process, and it is a pretty thing, at least in my opinion (if it isn't, I take it apart and reuse the materials in another way). But somehow, I have trouble with feeling that having a pretty thing that isn't 'useful' is enough and that makes it harder to put it out there in the world for someone to buy, because no matter how much I might like the end result, in the end, it is stuff. And there is so, so much stuff already. I mean, I would rather see less stuff that is mass produced and more stuff that is carefully, skillfully, and lovingly made. To me the latter is far more valuable than the former, whether I make it or someone else does. There's value in the making and the skills, and the learning that goes into it all, whether it's a hat, a painting, a book, a sculpture, or a piece of jewellery. We are a creative species. But I guess for me, function plays a role. And so does the problem of a world full of too much stuff. This is one reason I try to only make new stuff out of old. I'm most comfortable when that new stuff will serve a useful purpose though. I am not sure why it is that something pretty that makes people smile doesn't seem to be purposeful enough, but I think this is all tied together with my aversion to too much stuff. In short, does the world really need another pretty thing? I know that I have some need to make the things, but sometimes, I feel weird about it--often uncomfortable enough to stop me from following through on the ideas that jostle around in my head.

And then there is the bombardment of advertising. Websites with videos that start playing whether you want them to or not and flashing ads along top, bottom, and both sides, blogs with ads crammed all over the place, and so many people hustling to make a living. I am more understanding of the latter and although I never click on ads and pay as little attention to them as possible, I let them play out on youtube if it's an indie person who is trying to make a few cents by providing content. I know they get a few cents if I let them run, so I do, although I sometimes go and do something else while they're playing--I've had 15-minute ads come up! I must admit though, that I do get tired of constantly seeing ads for this, that, and the other thing. Everyone wants us to buy, buy, buy and yet we are drowning in stuff. At the same time more and more people are trying to make it in a creative/gig economy that is often about buying and selling stuff, we need to be making serious moves to consume less stuff, due to the environmental damage we are doing. I don't have an answer, really. It's just something I think about and have to find a way to work with/around as a creative woman who makes stuff.

And with that, I will bring this post full of 'stuff' to a close! I hope it's a good day in your part of the world! 😀

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The Ethics of Buying Used Books

I woke up yesterday morning with a headache and a slightly queasy stomach. I thought it might be a lost day, but I ate some porridge, had some coffee, and drank some water, which left me feeling better, if not 'right.' I was able to function well enough, though, so we went to do some errands, stopping in the charity shop while we were out.

The shelves in our local charity shop are groaning under the weight of the books that are stuffed in every available space. They don't have room for more, so are not accepting book donations at this time. We were able to find a few to take home, thus creating a wee bit more space for them. As we were browsing, I was thinking about a booktube video I recently watched on the Spinster's Library channel regarding the ethics of used book buying. In the video, Claudia, who has talked about buying used books before, said that some people had commented to her that perhaps buying used books is unethical. This caused her to consider whether or not she agreed with this idea. I largely agreed with her conclusions in this regard, but there were one or two things that I was thinking about while watching that she didn't talk about.

She talked about an author named Philip Pullman, who I think is fairly popular, but not someone who writes books I'm interested in, so I cannot comment on his work. In the video, she said that he has said that whenever someone buys a book in a charity shop, he is deprived of royalties. I suppose that, on a purely factual level, he is correct--he is not getting any royalties from a book sold in a charity shop. But he did get the royalties when the original owner bought the book and if that person no longer wants the book, it will have to be disposed of somehow. Is it better to put it in a charity shop, where it can find a new home, stay out of a landfill, and provide funds to help people or would he rather have someone toss it in the trash? Either way, he's not getting his royalties and it seems to me that reuse is a more ethical choice.

His argument is overly simplistic. I can only speak to how Bill and I buy books in a charity shop, but it seems to me that if anyone is going into a charity shop looking for a particular author, they will usually come out disappointed. It may be that charity shops in his part of the world (wherever that is) are different than they are here or than the ones I experienced when I was in the US, but when I browse the bookshelves in a charity/thrift shop, I am never looking for a particular thing, I am prepared to be happily surprised, but also prepared to walk out empty-handed. We get a lot of books at charity shops, none of which are books we went in to look for and most of which we had never even heard of before we picked them up. It's not a matter of deciding to buy a particular book and then opting for the charity shop instead of a bookshop, thus depriving an author of her/his royalties. That's not the choice. The choice is, 'Oh, here's this book that I never knew about until this very minute. Do I want to give it a chance or not?'

This leads to another issue. I read 150ish books every year. I would not have room to buy and keep all those books. It is true that a large proportion of that consists of books written by people who are no longer alive, but even setting those aside, I would have a large number of books to attempt to house. And I have no desire to keep every book I read. I almost never re-read fiction, so I have no interest in keeping those books. I either put myself in the queue at the library, or I come across books in wee free libraries or charity shops that I buy knowing that I will pass them on when I'm done. Sometimes I give a book a try, knowing that if I don't like it, I can pass it on and not worry about the money I've spent on it. The books we keep are, with few exceptions, nonfiction. If we know we want to keep a book, we buy it new. We avoid Amazon for ethical reasons and buy from Kenny's in Galway--an indie bookseller which offers free worldwide shipping. Sometimes I do find books in charity shops that I know I will keep, but they are never books I went in looking for and are always books I did not know about, so I would not have been able to go into a bookshop or online to buy one new anyway. And there is a cost factor. I read fairly quickly and depending on the novel, I can be done with a book in a few hours. It does not seem like a good use of resources to buy an object that I am going to use for a few hours and then have to dispose of. Those are the kinds of books that I get from the library and return or a charity shop and pass on. Here again, it's a not a simple choice between acquiring a new copy of the book or getting it elsewhere--if I could not get such books at the library or in charity shops, I wouldn't buy them new. I simply wouldn't buy them.

I am not unsympathetic to authors who feel they are getting ripped off.  Like all artists, I think that they should be paid for their work. But I do think there's a difference between someone distributing a bootleg digital copy of a book, for example, and someone buying a book and then passing it on to a charity shop. In the video, Claudia also makes the distinction, which I thought was a good one, between buying used books at a charity shop and buying them at a for-profit business. There are a lot of ethical considerations here.

In thinking about this, I was reminded of artwork we've had over the last 15 years. We were heavily involved in a local art community in one particular place we lived, both as artists and as people who were collecting life stories to do projects about artists. In appreciation, some of the artists gave us pieces of their work. I bought a painting or two as well. When we moved, I could not take the paintings I bought, so I returned them to the artist without asking for, expecting, or receiving a refund. Some of the other art was such that we could take it with us. But when we were coming to Ireland, we had to pass most of that along, too. We were thousands of miles away from the artists and we'd lost touch with some of them anyway, so returning was not an option. We sold some and donated some. Books are the same. When someone buys a book, it's theirs to do with what they will. People here buy a lot of books, new and used. I was told by a librarian a few years ago that people will do a book clear-out just before or just after Christmas to make room for the new books they're going to get or have gotten. It seems to me to be a good thing to dispose of these objects ethically. If no one takes them from wee free libraries or buys them from charity shops, they'll go into landfill, which is wasteful (thus unethical). Even if this happened, I think it's a stretch to assume that royalties for authors would suddenly increase as a result. Again, I can only go by my own experience, but buying a book in a charity shop does not mean that I would have otherwise bought it new. It just means I likely would never have even known it existed. And it's entirely possible that someone might discover an author in a charity shop, buy a book they're not sure about because it's only a euro, fall in love, and then buy more of that author's work new, thus providing royalties to the author.

Anyway, it was an interesting thought experiment, listening to the video and thinking about how the topic relates to my own life. And now, I'm off to read. 😀

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Wednesday Words of Wisdom

'Objects don't seem incongruous if they've been there forever, doings don't seem ridiculous if they've always been done that way.
  Why is it only now that I can see how many ordinary things are actually grotesque?'
--Sara Baume on page 12 of the e-book version of A Line Made by Walking

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First Chapter, First Paragraph: The Outrun

I'm linking up with 'First Chapter, First Paragraph' hosted by Vicki at I'd Rather Be at the Beach. Each Tuesday, people post the first paragraph or two of a book they are reading or plan to read soon. Today, I present the first couple of chapters of The Outrun by Amy Liptrot. I found this book last week in a charity shop and in a weird coincidence, the author was on the BBC Radio 4 show/podcast A Good Read the same day.

Prologue
  Under whirring helicopter blades, a young woman holds her newborn baby as she is pushed in a wheelchair along the runway of the island airport to meet a man in a straitjacket being pushed in a wheelchair from the other direction.
   That day, the two twenty-eight-year-olds had been treated at the small hospital nearby. The woman was helped to deliver her first child. The man, shouting and out of control, was restrained and sedated.

Note to readers with Wordpress blogs:
Thank you to everyone who has added links to their Tuesday books! I have read each post. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Wordpress will not allow me to comment on the blogs on their site. I have had this problem for a long time and have given up with them. I have tried again today, but the problem remains. So if I do not leave a comment, it's not because I haven't read the post, but simply because Wordpress doesn't let me comment!

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Several Months Later...

Last autumn, a friend/neighbour returned from a trip bringing me a bunch of goodies she'd picked up at a thrift store. Included in this haul were 6 balls of yarn made of silk and cashmere. It is so soft and squishy! I had 4 balls of a grey-blue, one in cream, and a brown. Ideas went around and around in my head as I considered what to make. Did I want to use it all in one project or use the grey-blue separately? I started and ripped out a few times. Finally, in late spring, I decided to use the cream and brown together in this neutral colourblock cowl/neckwarmer.

I started with the brown and made a rectangle that was half as wide as I wanted the neckwarmer to be. I did Tunisian crochet, alternating knit and reverse stitches, until I was almost out of yarn. Then I turned that rectangle sideways, and with the cream, picked up stitches along the edge and did the same stitch until I had the width I wanted. I slip stitched the working end of the cream rectangle to the other side of the brown rectangle and then crocheted around the top and bottom edges.

I loved it from the start, but given the time of year, it was too warm to wear then, so I left it out and looked at it for a few days, before putting it away to await a better time of year. That happy time has arrived and it's cool enough for me to wear it today. Yay!

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