As a kid, I would read for hours. My favorite place to read was the front porch, in a green rocking chair, with my feet up on the railing. When I finished the books on loan from the library every couple days, I'd ride my bike back to the library and take out more, usually whatever the loan limit was. It was nearly the entire reason for having a basket on one's bike. My Mom was a reader too. I still picture her at the kitchen table with her cup of tea. I don't know how she kept her concentration to read with four kids interrupting all the time. Dad didn't read storybooks; he was a New York Times guy. Somehow -- school I suppose -- I got away from pleasure reading. As I got older, fiction became reserved for airplane rides and the beach.
This morning, I woke early as usual, but instead of hopping out of bed to get on with the weekend chores, I picked up a book I'd been nursing for about a week and started reading again. It always happens this way...I can read a little every day for while and then suddenly, there is a point where I am hooked. I can no longer read just a little; I want to read clear to the end; I am now trapped. Suddenly, I manage to stay awake past 9 pm. This morning, I read in bed for about 2 hours, broke away for a shower and a trip out to the bagel store for my weekend bagel. Then I pushed my chair in the sun, got under a blanket and finished the book. It was decadent yet wonderful. A whole weekend looming ahead of me with a long to-do list, and it's now 10 am and I'm not even started. When did I start to feel guilty for time spent reading? It's good for the soul, even if one is reading a silly romance. I don't imagine the chores have gone anywhere while I was reading and I waste a lot of time doing less valuable things than reading.
From my delicious spot in the sun, I found myself also amused by the flock of some 30 robins in my trees. Yes, robins in February! A google search revealed that robins migrate along a 37 degree isotherm. And that's seems about right around here, but it sure seems early. They still can't get to the earthworms they prefer, but this time of year they eat fruits on trees. They are hanging out in my crabapples.
My next book is already underway a couple weeks. I picked another Ken Follett epic, Fall of Giants. It's 985 pages long and in the couple weeks, I've read only 90 pages. Each time I pick it up, I sort of have to refresh who the characters are and what the storyline is. I have confidence, from reading Ken Follett previously, that the book will be riveting soon enough. But since it hasn't sucked me in yet, it's time for chores and errands!
This morning, I woke early as usual, but instead of hopping out of bed to get on with the weekend chores, I picked up a book I'd been nursing for about a week and started reading again. It always happens this way...I can read a little every day for while and then suddenly, there is a point where I am hooked. I can no longer read just a little; I want to read clear to the end; I am now trapped. Suddenly, I manage to stay awake past 9 pm. This morning, I read in bed for about 2 hours, broke away for a shower and a trip out to the bagel store for my weekend bagel. Then I pushed my chair in the sun, got under a blanket and finished the book. It was decadent yet wonderful. A whole weekend looming ahead of me with a long to-do list, and it's now 10 am and I'm not even started. When did I start to feel guilty for time spent reading? It's good for the soul, even if one is reading a silly romance. I don't imagine the chores have gone anywhere while I was reading and I waste a lot of time doing less valuable things than reading.
From my delicious spot in the sun, I found myself also amused by the flock of some 30 robins in my trees. Yes, robins in February! A google search revealed that robins migrate along a 37 degree isotherm. And that's seems about right around here, but it sure seems early. They still can't get to the earthworms they prefer, but this time of year they eat fruits on trees. They are hanging out in my crabapples.
My next book is already underway a couple weeks. I picked another Ken Follett epic, Fall of Giants. It's 985 pages long and in the couple weeks, I've read only 90 pages. Each time I pick it up, I sort of have to refresh who the characters are and what the storyline is. I have confidence, from reading Ken Follett previously, that the book will be riveting soon enough. But since it hasn't sucked me in yet, it's time for chores and errands!