Field Notes, vol 10
I am studiously ignoring the passage of time since my last post, which seems to be a necessary habit this year!
I love this time of year. I love the weather and the darkness and how contemplative everything becomes. How the plants draw into themselves, and the sky is moody more often than not, and the contrast of the fairy lights outlining my window. I make myself take them down again in January, to preserve their magic.
I’m in a really lovely spot, the two months since my last field notes has seen me process and contemplate and change and grow and settle in, so that now I can simply pause and reflect, feeling good about myself and my life, and enjoy the sense of peace and joy of the season. I’ve found myself rereading more than anything: I just finished Katherine Swift’s The Morville Hours for the second time, and I think I will make it an advent tradition. It’s a perfect book for this time of year. I’ve been indulging in favourite authors, and even getting one new book in Deborah Crombie’s mystery series every time I go to the library. I start it as soon as I leave and likely as not it’s not by the next day. In the past I would have made myself wait, drawn things out from a sense of scarcity, but now I’m just revelling in a new favourite.
I have several new favourite authors this year, and I do intend to share them with you. I’ve made my peace with not being able to post about every book I read, even every 5 star book I read, this past year, but I do plan to reconstruct as well as possible my reading list (I stopped updating this summer) and include a general overview of the ones that somehow touched my soul.
I’ve also gotten back into short stories; I’m dipping at random into My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me, edited by Kate Bernheimer, whenever I need to take a knitting break or am switching between my ‘big’ reads or just feel like a story, and it’s been wonderful. On a funny note, my niece was with me when I picked it up from the library; she loves to do the self checkout and now that she’s 7 she’s quite a fluent reader so she always reads the title. This one was on the top of my pile, and as it’s being scanned, she started to read it out loud: “My mother she KILLED me…my father…he…ATE…me?! Auntie?! WHY would you read a book like that?!” in a mix of horror and amused giggling. I started laughing too as I tried to explain. One day I hope she’ll read it for herself and find out.
All photos my own, taken over the past fortnight, you may click to enlarge.