a retreat?

I learned to collect books not from my academic now ex-husband, but even earlier -- from my parents. My father did it because it gave him the sense of immersion into the political and historic commentary of others. All those titles on the shelves! My mother did it out of a yearning to be part of an intellectual community that was never handed to her in her impoverished childhood and young adulthood. And to her credit, she read much of what she owned. I did it because I was always more hungry than the stomach would allow. I collected tantalizing books that I was dying to read. I'd say I managed to get to maybe half of them. 

Oh those days of bookstores with appended cafes! My absolute favorite hours of leisure were ones spent with a stack of books and an inevitably cooling latte at Borders. Indeed, after my divorce, I moved into a particular condo deliberately because it was across the road from that Borders -- a store that closed soon after my move. Damn it. 

But my reading habits have always been those of a restless person. If I did not like a book, I did not finish it. I felt the waste then. And I did not like reminders of that poor selection -- I got rid of books that weren't to my taste quickly. I kept those that I fully intended to someday read or reread. And my collection grew. And grew some more.

And then along came Kindle, my wonderful reading device. Books are substantially cheaper on Kindle. And for a frequent traveler, kindle is just such a joy! No more weighty tomes that I may or may not like once I got going. A Kindle can stack and keep for you a whole library full of books. And slowly, I left the physical book completely, in favor of tablet reading. And when I moved -- again and again and again -- I got rid of books that I knew I would never read or reread. I pared it down to just a shelf full and I expect even that will diminish with my next move. I'm a Kindle person, right? Kindle print is great for my old-person eyes! The brightness is there, the boldness of the font (why are books printed with gray lettering these days?!), the slightly larger print -- all of it, fabulous and easy to stick in my purse or take up to my bed in the evening.

But every once in a while, I get a book as a gift. This happened with Raising Hare: A Memoir (by Chloe Dalton), a book that I read this past week. It's a beautiful story and reading it was like a walk on a path of stunning natural wonder, where you've forgotten about human intrusions and opened your eyes to the riches of plant and animal life. I loved the book and I loved taking it with me to the breakfast table. And it felt somehow meaningful to be reading it on real paper, in print. I suppose you could argue that it's just a simplification of what it means to immerse yourself in the real world, as opposed to the one imagined and created for our convenience on a Kindle. But I do believe that some books are better read in their printed format. This was one of them. I have this idea now that I'll go back to real books sometimes, when it seems (to my imagination) more fitting. As if I haven't quite succumbed to convenience for everything I do (even though here I am, ordering a "real book" online, one about nature and growing things, and expecting delivery... tomorrow!). 

That notwithstanding, during the day and especially in the evenings, I go back to whatever I am reading on my Kindle. And what exactly am I reading there? Well, the NYTimes suggested that for the summer, we challenge ourselves some by broadening our reading horizons. One idea: read from a genre you don't usually touch. And I have one! I am actually picked up a romance novel -- a genre I haven't touched since I was a young adult. And I mean a really young adult. Why do it now? I blame the dog book ("The Best Dog in the World") from last week. I liked the essay by Emily Henry, so if I'm to read a romance book, her's would be a good choice. "Book Lovers" is witty enough, but not not enough to hook me. I skipped the middle and sailed to the predictable end and there you have it. 

All this on a day that was supposed to be sunny and finally warmer and it isn't that -- not in the morning anyway. Nonetheless, I take my breakfast outside. The birds are deliciously loud, a fleece protects me from the morning nip in the air. 

(farmette irises)

Millie barks at strange movements in the alley...

 

 

... and spies on neighbors.  

It's a really good morning. And I promised I wouldn't write about plants today so I wont, though I will say that my longing to take my plants out of the porch and into the open grows with each day. Steffi's House doesn't have a screened porch and I think that's a good thing. Birds, insects have no access to the stuff I hide here behind big screens. In Steffi's House, I want to blur the lines between the outside world and the one where I eat breakfast. If I put up the portable gate on the entrance to the front porch, Millie can join me there for breakfast, though her space will be smaller and her movement in and out of the house restricted. There is no such thing as a perfect solution to living among plants and with an animal and here's another issue -- living in a world of bugs.

One reason why the farmette is so nostalgically beautiful for me right now is that we are in the one brief period of few annoying bugs. We do have a high tick count this year, but I've not encountered many and in any case, they do not immediately detract from the pleasures of being outside. In mid June, that all changes. The dense farmette foliage, the flowers, the nearby wetlands make the place a haven for mosquitoes and they are insufferable!  The farmhouse porch was a lifesaver for me: I could be outside yet without the presence of that menace. Will mosquitoes be less dense at Steffi's House? I hope so. I'm not about to add a screened porch to the place! The new development abuts the same wetlands and yet I've noticed in past years that there are far fewer bugs here on a summer day.

 

What do Millie and I do on this afternoon? After her very long morning nap, I take her on an adventure. The sun is out, the day is getting to be quite warm. I'm thinking of taking her to the park Ed and I hike so frequently. 

Millie and I dont take very many long walks, in part because she doesn't require long walks and especially not on days where she has hours of play at doggie daycare or a half hour run at the dog park. And still, I want her to enjoy a wider range of experiences. She has never walked along a forested path!  New scents, new sights, new sounds -- all there to experience and love. Yes, I know she likes the tried and true, she thrives in set routines, she shakes at the thought of going somewhere, anywhere by car. And yet I think she is made stronger by adventures that challenge her somewhat. So I pack her in the bike  and we are off  (it's only a 20 minute ride to the park).

I should have known that she would not be okay with this! I haven't taken her in her bike seat for many weeks and whatever recollection she would have had of this would not have been favorable anyway. Several times along the more windy stretches, she attempts to climb out. It's not terribly difficult to rein her in, to reassure her with a constant hand rub, but still, I can't say that she has one iota of fun on the ride.

In the park, we meet up with Ed (who has been out giving blood or he would have biked with us). Millie is quite happy to be on the ground again.

 

 

 

But at the same time, she is cautious. Tentative. The forest feels strange to her. Too many sounds that she does not understand.

 

 

Me, I'm dazzled by it. It's my favorite time in the woods -- the greens are youthful, without a trace of summer exhaustion. Ed points out the invasive buck thorn everywhere and of course this is the season for the horrible (albeit so pretty!) Dame's Rocket, but still, how can you not appreciate all that the forest has to offer us? Right Millie?

(she rests, taking it all in...) 

 

When we come out into the prairie, she pulls toward the parking lot. She's not usually a leash puller, but this time, she knows home is that-a-way. There's only so much stimulation a young pup wants in an afternoon.

And the bike ride home? So much calmer for her, now that she knows that at the end of it, we wont be swallowed by monsters and dragons or some angry dogs.

 

 

In the afternoon I did some plant work -- both with the outdoor stuff (I cannot wait to put it into the ground next weekend -- the pots are small and the plants are fragile) and indoor stuff (I made lists of plants by height). I'll say no more. Well, only that it was such taxing work that I rewarded myself with the center of a cinnamon roll, just before dinner. Millie looked on, appalled.

My dearest pup, doggies who live in glass houses! You, my girl, will pick up anything outside to munch on. Anything, any time. And inside? You balk at treats. With a firm no to those handed to you. You prefer them placed on the floor by your feet, so that you can examine them minutely before you try a nibble. Water bores you. Canned food? Only sometimes and if freshly opened. Talk about original eating behaviors! Yours, not mine!

And still, Millie is growing. She weighed in at 14 pounds today. When she first came to live with me seven weeks ago, she was a mere 9.  How she has changed in this very short time! But not in her enthusiasm for people, for other dogs, for kisses and belly rubs. For her her walks, her toys, for life itself.

with so much love...