Posted tagged ‘reading’

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“Rarely does one see a squirrel tremble.”

June 15, 2012

Cue the trumpets! It was coffee and the papers on the deck this morning for the first time this season, and the sun was so bright I felt like the Mad Hatter moving from chair to chair to avoid the glare. Gracie came with me and she found the shade. While there, I noticed the deck needs some more sweeping because of the rain storms, and I’ll do that later as I intend to spend most of the day there with book (disguised as my iPad) in hand.

Tonight is the first play of the season, and it is at the Cape Playhouse. The Hound of the Baskervilles is the play, but, according to the review, it,” … is absurd. Ridiculous. Overblown,” but then the critic goes on to say, ” But please, please don’t let that stop you, because those are exactly the things that make it an extremely successful, albeit odd, twist on the old Sherlock Holmes yarn.” I am curious and a bit uneasy. I always think of Sherlock Holmes as a character with whom you don’t meddle, but I will reserve judgment until I see the play.

I woke up when it was almost light, and I heard the chorus of birds greeting the new day. The air was filled with bird songs, and I stayed awake a while to listen. It is a perfect way to start the day, with a joyous sound. I fell asleep again but I think I might have been smiling.

The gray spawns of Satan have not been around. It seems they have been replaced by the evil red spawns who have been known to attack their grey cousins. The red spawns are small enough to fit in between the wires of the squirrel proof feeders, and when I see them at those feeders, I run out to the deck like a screaming mad woman. Well, actually, I am a screaming mad woman with mad having all sorts of connotations. Maybe, once the deck season starts in earnest, the spawns will stay away. I can only hope, but if that doesn’t work, I’m thinking a weapon might be what I need. Maybe I’ll try a potato gun. They can always eat the ammo.

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“Books are a uniquely portable magic.”

June 14, 2012

Yesterday it rained all day, and the rain left today cloudy, damp and generally miserable. It’s chilly at 60° and the dampness makes it feel even colder.  I’m wearing a sweatshirt and just closed the window I had opened earlier. No more flip-flops around the house-today it’s slippers.

The bear is gone. He was seen running around P-Town parking lots, and people were out trying to find him to take pictures so wildlife officials let it be known that they had chosen to relocate the bear so he could find himself a mate, and they wanted updates as to where he was. The bear was found, successfully tranquilized, tagged and taken to the western part of the state where we can all hope he is wooing some fair female black bear. Now we have another creature to watch. A Beluga whale, usually found in Arctic waters, has been spotted off Cape Cod. It is white which makes it an adult. The whale has been seen twice. P-Town is the summer vacation spot for right whales so maybe the Beluga read a brochure and decided to give the cape a try.

Rainy days make me want to be cozy reading a good book under an afghan. That started when I was a kid. I’d have to walk home from school in the rain, whether it was misty or torrential. I’d get soaked. My shoes got so wet that sometimes the water bubbled out the sides and my socks got so drenched I’d make footprints across the floor. My mother would grab my uniform skirt and hang it up to dry as I only had the one. That ugly western type tie we had to wear she wrapped in a towel to dry. The blouse went in the laundry. Even though it was afternoon, I’d put on my pajamas, the coziest clothes I had, as I knew I wouldn’t be going out to play and then I’d read away the afternoon. I think those were my favorite days. The darkness of my room lit only by the bed-lamp made me feel safe somehow, wrapped by my house as if it had arms. I’d be drawn into my book by familiar characters I had come to love like Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden. I never heard anyone in the rest of the house. It always seemed as if I were alone, never scared, just content.

I have one quick errand today then I’m going to change into cozy clothes, lie on the couch under an afghan and read. I can hardly wait!

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“There is no friend as loyal as a book.”

May 25, 2012

Today is cloudy and chilly but the weekend will be spectacular. I suspect the fortuitous weather report will have the cape lined with cars and tourists for the weekend. The water is still too cold for swimming, but the sand and sun will draw the crowds to the beaches. My deck is a mess with pollen and stuff from the trees, but today is cool enough for cleaning and getting ready to spend the next two days outside.

Today is garden shop day. I only need about four or five flowers for the front garden, but I need several for the deck pots. I also need herbs for the garden and for the flower boxes on the deck. The last on my list is one more vegetable for my small raised garden. This is one of my favorite days: when I wander the aisles of the garden shop. All self-restraint seems to disappear. My cart overflows, and I wonder if I’ve bought enough.

I am 100 pages from finishing my book: A Dark Dividing by Sarah Rayne. I started it on Wednesday and have been reading every spare moment since. My errands were more of an annoyance than usual knowing that my book was sitting at home waiting. If today weren’t flower day, I wouldn’t move off the couch until I’d finished. I love finding a book difficult to put down.

When I was really little, my mother read the Golden Books to me. She thought me the smartest of all children because when I was two I could identify all the animals circling the back cover. She told me my favorite story was Chicken Little. I still have a special place in my heart for Henny Penny, and I will always remember Foxy Locky, Goosey Loosey, Turkey Lurkey and Ducky Lucky. They are such wonderful names. It makes me laugh a bit thinking about my favorite childhood book and how the main character thinks the sky is falling. It is no wonder I have always loved science fiction. That Foxy Locky eats most of the characters seems a bit chilling, but I guess it never scared me as Henny Penny, my heroine, runs away safely.

My mother read Treasure Island to my brother and me, a bit of it every night before bed. It made bedtime palatable knowing I’d be following Jim and Long John Silver on their voyage. I still love that book, and I’m still pained by Long John’s treachery.

When I taught English, some kids took pride in saying they’d never read a book. Others told me my course books were the first they’d ever finished. It saddened me that these kids had never entered the amazing world of books, but once, many, many years later, a former student stopped me and said thanks. He told me he had read all of the books in my science fiction course and hadn’t stopped reading since. That was about my biggest accomplishment: helping make a student a reader.

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“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.”

March 31, 2012

Finally we have some rain! After our snowless winter, they are predicting possible drought conditions this summer so any rain is welcomed. For some reason, though, the rain makes me lazy. In my imminent future I see movies about climatic upheavals and a nap in the darkness of the afternoon. The animals are already asleep.

It’s cold this morning, but I don’t care. The house is warm and cozy. When I was young, this was the sort of day I’d stay in bed and read by the light of the bed lamp hanging off my headboard. It was a quiet time when I could be by myself. I’d follow Nancy and Trixie as they solved cases and feel bad for Heidi looking for her grandfather. One of the joys in life is finding and reading a great book for the first time. Sometimes I’d read the whole book in one sitting hour after hour. I’d close the cover and hold the book for a bit still savoring every word. My mother used to tell me to take my time, but that was never possible. Once a book grabbed me, it didn’t let go until I’d read the last word.

My love of books and reading has never changed over time. When I was younger and backpacking through Europe summer after summer, I’d bring 3 or 4 books. When I’d finish one, I’d carry it until the next stop. Staying in a hostel was the best opportunity to trade, and I found myself trading for and reading books I probably wouldn’t have otherwise read. That was the fun of it.

In the old days, Peace Corps used to give volunteers book lockers, cardboard boxes which opened into small bookcases. They were filled with paperbacks. In mine, left by a previous volunteer, was The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I devoured all four books and would never trade them to any of the volunteers passing through town. I knew I’d go back and read them again. Before I went up-country to live after training, I visited the university bookstore and stocked up with more paperbacks, all of them printed by Penguin Press. They were trade material. My town had a library and most of the books were by British authors. I read Ngaio Marsh, Ruth Rendall and the wonderful Dorothy Sayers for the first time. Such joy!

Despite having and using my iPad, I still cherish the printed word and love holding a book in my hand, and I still sigh when I’ve finished a book I loved.

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“Mathematics was hard, dull work. Geography pleased me more. For dancing I was quite enthusiastic.”

February 26, 2012

Today is winter. The dump was freezing and the wind felt Arctic. I swear the people in the car beside me were speaking Russian. If records were being kept, the fastest dump runs in history would be today’s.

Last night the wind howled and the house shook. I was glad the new palm tree was nailed in places to the deck or it would have gone flying, a bit like the cow and the rowboat in The Wizard of Oz cyclone. All I did was snuggle even more under my down comforter and go back to sleep.

Monday was the worst day of the week and the worst of all Monday’s was the one after a vacation. That would be tomorrow around here.

We all knew school was inevitable. Hating to go only made it worse so abiding it as a necessary evil made it a bit more tolerable for those for whom school was anathema. I liked school or at least I never minded going. I liked most subjects except arithmetic because it was the only one which ever gave me any trouble. I used to hide my fingers under my desk so I wouldn’t get caught using them. I was a great carrier of numbers though. It was always the smaller ones which tripped me up, never those with three digits. I remember writing the 1 over the number the way I had been taught while in my head, I’d be saying, “And carry the one.” It was almost like a prayer, something we all learned by heart. My favorite subject was reading. We had a book series which we used from year to year. The books were filled with stories and poems with questions at the end. Lots of times we’d have to read aloud. I always felt bad for the kid who had trouble with words and for whom reading aloud was torture. “Sound out the letters,” was always the nun’s directive as if that easily solved the problem. What I thought was strange was our report cards graded us on silent reading, never reading aloud so I didn’t understand why we did it. I suppose to prove we could read.

I’m sorry geography as a separate subject has disappeared from most schools. It was always a favorite of mine. Only one part, learning the exports of all the countries, was never all that important to me. I liked the pictures and mostly I liked the stories of the way people lived. The tulips and the windmills, the snow on the mountains and the goats and sheep were far more fun than bananas and coffee beans.

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“For after all the best thing one can do when it is raining, is to let it rain.”

January 12, 2012

Miserable is the first adjective which comes to mind in describing today. The rain is constant, and the wind is strong enough to blow the bird feeders back and forth, even the heaviest, the squirrel buster feeder, is swaying. Gracie hasn’t been outside since last night. She never even bothered to stick her head out the door as the rain is loud enough for her to know it’s pouring. Just in case she needs to rush, I’ve left the back door open.

My den is dark. I had the light on earlier when I was reading the papers but I turned if off when I finished. I like the darkness and the sense of being surrounded by rain. Fern and Gracie are with me but both are asleep. Fern is on the back pillow of the couch and Gracie is stretch across it. Every now and then I hear Gracie sigh, but mostly I just hear the rain.

Even when I was a little kid, I loved the sound of the rain. I remember one vacation in Maine when we were all stuck inside on a rainy day. We played games and listened to the radio, but I could take all that closeness only so long so I grabbed my book and headed to the car. Lying on my stomach and reading, I was comfy and dry and could hear the rain on the metal roof and against the windows. I don’t remember how long I stayed there, but I do remember it was one of the best afternoons.

Summer rain is my favorite. When it gently falls, I sit outside on the deck under the umbrella and read. All around me is rain, but I stay dry, and I listen as the rain make its music. I hear it on the deck, and I hear it when it drips off the umbrella.

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“Read in order to live.”

November 27, 2011

The day is again lovely and warm, though not as warm as yesterday. From my window here I’ve been watching the birds at the feeders, and I just watched a red spawn fit through the mesh of the small feeder, the one the nuthatches like, and he’s having quite the picnic. I’m thinking a weapon of some sort, even a slingshot, would be useful right about now.

The two cats and the dog are asleep. I guess they had a tough morning moving from the bed to the couch though Gracie might be tired as she did have a play date earlier with her friend Cody from down the street. Cody is let out, he comes here and barks at the door to come in, and he and Gracie romp in the yard. When they’re done, Cody barks to come in, gets a biscuit from me then I let him out and he walks home. It’s a perfect arrangement.

Today I have no plans except to loll and read. I have just started the new Stephen King novel, and I’m unhappy about it. When I hold that giant book, over 800 pages, in my hands, I bemoan its length. The problem is that the novel grabbed my attention right away, but given the number of pages, it will be a long while until the end unless I do nothing else but read, not really unheard of for me. I realize I have to partake in a bit of life here and there, but I suspect I’ll resent it as time taken away from the book.

I have sometimes read until three or four in the morning totally unaware of the passage of time as I turn the pages of an engrossing novel. When I realize the time, I tell myself one more chapter then one more then one more again. Soon enough another hour or so has passed. When I was a kid, my mother swore I was totally ignoring her. “Didn’t you hear me screaming for you?” I hadn’t. I was so into my book nothing could intrude. I always suspected she never believed my no.

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“leafless trees dripping – autumn rain”

October 13, 2011

Last night I fell asleep to the sound of rain and this morning I woke to it. When I went to get the papers, I was surprised at how warm the day felt. I expected that damp chill which seems to find your bones. The rain stopped for a bit but has started again, and I can watch it fall through the den window. Gracie’s just came in and her coat is all wet. The ground is strewn with leaves brought down by the wind and rain. It gives the yard the look of fall.

When I was a kid, I loved it when the street gutters were filled with leaves. We didn’t walk on the sidewalk. We preferred the gutter route. The brown leaves crinkled when you walked through them and some broke and split when you kicked them into the air. We’d send leaves and pieces of leaves all over the street. Sometimes we’d pick up handfuls of leaves and throw at each other, laughing the whole time. We’d spend the rest of the walk taking pieces of  leaves out of our hair. We never did it going to school, only coming home.

Loving rainy days dates back to my childhood. I’d come home from school soaked by the walk through the rain then I’d usually change into my pajamas, no need for playclothes on a rainy day. During the rest of the afternoon, my brother would watch TV while my sisters played together. I’d go to my room and read. It was private time not easy to find in a small house with four kids. I always felt cozy, and I still think sitting inside on a rainy day with a good book is a cozy and warm way to spend an afternoon.

During the rainy season in Bolga, the storms were so magnificent I’d always watch. First the winds came, and they were so strong they bent tree tops almost to the ground. I’d hear thunder and sometimes even see the lightning. Then the rain would start. It never started small. The sound of the rain was a roar as if I were standing near a waterfall. The ground would run with rivers of water. If  I were teaching, I’d have to stop as the sound on the tin roof was so deafening no one could be heard. That sound is still one of my favorites of all sounds, and I was lucky enough to hear it again on my trip. It rained twice when I was in Bolga, and I stood and watched just as I used to do so long ago. I was under an overhang, and I was safe and dry just as I was when I was a kid in my bedroom.

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“No day is so bad it can’t be fixed with a nap.”

October 11, 2011

Today is quite the contrast from the weekend. The temperature is down 20° and the sun is intermittent. I’m even wearing a sweatshirt though I’m still clinging to sandals. Shutting in my feet seems the last resort before admitting summer is really gone.

Last night was perfect for sleeping, far cooler than it’s been. I kept the window opened and could feel the night as it chilled. I’m looking forward to snuggling under covers on cool nights.

This morning I had a library board meeting. Only one other member is younger than I so the rest make me feel young. Two of the members are 90. Only one of them was here today; the other forgot.

I have no ambition whatsoever today. I won’t even make my bed as I feel a nap coming on a bit later and there’s no sense messing a made bed. Yesterday I did a little shopping so the animals and I have some food to tide us over, and I don’t have to cook for any of us. For them, it’s just open the cans and also fill the dry food dishes. For me, the chicken is already baked, the salad made, and I bought cheese, hummos and pita bread. Life is good when the larder is filled.

I think a cloudy day makes me lazy. Nothing is inviting when the world looks dark even in the daylight. Rain never stops me nor does snow. I love to watch them both. I got a couple of books when I went to the library so I can see myself prone on the couch reading with the light on beside me giving me a cozy feeling, a drowsy feeling. No question I’ll easily succumb to a nap.

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” Dreaming men are haunted men.”

August 19, 2011

Today is muggy as my mother would say. The air is listless and I feel closed in a bit. As I sit here at the keyboard mulling the day, I’m keeping an eye on the deck through the window near me. My goldfinches are back. They were gone for a while, but two of them are back at the feeders. Lots of chickadees are in and out. Yesterday a red spawn of Satan and I had a stare down. He stood on the deck rail daring me so I chased him away time and time again. I even shook the branches on which he had taken refuge. I turned into a crazy lady. He finally left without getting at any of the feeders I had just filled. Crazy lady one, red spawn of Satan nothing.

Once I finish here I’m heading to the deck with the book I’m reading. It’s a typical summer book without a lot of substance but one with a mystery and one murder so far. It’s called Back of Beyond, and I’m almost finished. Summers past I used to try and read something I couldn’t get through like Crime and Punishment, but I gave up doing that as I never did finish any of them. Besides, I find murder and mayhem far more fun to read. My iPad already has about six mysteries loaded for my trip, but I figure I’ll need a few more. The flights are long.

Last night I had the weirdest dream. I know the dream came from my subconscious because I have to pick up some prescriptions at the pharmacy which has called a couple of times, and the errand has been on my mind. In my dream, I went to Pullo’s, the drugstore which used to be right next to the movie theater when I was a kid. Mr. Pullo had a mustache and always wore a short white coat with buttons across the front like Dr. Kildare used to wear in the movies. In my dream, a boy was hanging by his feet from a bar halfway up the front door. He looked a bit like Cheetah wearing overalls and hanging from a branch in a Tarzan movie, but no one inside seemed to care or even notice. The soda fountain was right where it had been in Pullo’s but the back of the pharmacy was different in my dream. There was a man sitting next to a griddle, like they have in diners, and he was smoking a cigar. Mr. Pullo and he were talking. The man was burly and dressed in a heavy coat and hat. For some reason he looked Russian to me. That’s where the dream ended.

At some point I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I fell back to sleep, the dream started again with the same boy in overalls hanging on the door. I walked into Pullo’s but that is as far as I remember of the rerun.

It’s amazing what our subconscious resurrects. I have an errand I have to do, and I’m getting nagged in my dreams. I swear I’m going today!

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