Reading… To the Edge of the World by Eowyn Ivey.
Playing … casual piano play in between piano teachers.
Listening … to the masterful and gentle piano playing of Jacob’s Piano.
Working … watering outdoor pots twice daily because of extreme heat
Amazed … and inspired by Sue Austin: deep sea diving in a power wheelchair.
Making … more fermented sauerkraut and kosher dill pickles.
Planning … what to knit as soon as I can get my skeins made into cakes (balls).
Realizing … how some people do horrid things in an effort to be recognized (which is far different from the man mentioned below).
Feeling … sad about news that an ordinary young man/husband/son stole a passenger plane and felt he had to crash it rather than spend time in jail.
Grateful … for those who rescue or report animals in distress.
Share a quote or line from the book you’re currently reading. Here is my offering:
“That is excitement. We catch only glimpses, a burst of movement, a flap of wing, yet it is life itself beating at shadow’s edge. It is the unfolding of potential; all of what we might experience and see and learn awaits us.” — from Eowyn Ivey’s To the Bright Edge of the World.
Now you … go.
Not from something I have read but from something we watched the other night on Netflix. Now I have to read the book!
“While he writes, I feel as if he is drawing me; or not drawing me, drawing on me – drawing on my skin – not with the pencil he is using, but with an old-fashioned goose pen, and not with the quill end but with the feather end. As if hundreds of butterflies have settled all over my face, and are softly opening and closing their wings.”
? Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace
They could be whipped, branded, and castrated, shackled with heavy leg irons, and entombed in filthy dungeons. The remaining cells tended to be populated by town drunks, petty thieves, and the other dregs of white society. It seems that no woman other than Rachel Lavien was ever imprisoned there for adultery. Rachel spent several months in a dank, cramped cell that measured ten by thirteen feet, and she must have gone through infernal torments of fear and loneliness.
Book: Alexander Hamilton
Author: Ron Chernow
a nicely executed thread of thoughts, illustrated with exquisite photos. very thought provoking. you’ve managed to reveal your heart in so few words.
(gotta love the first image)
Found Nuvole Bianche on Musicnotes.com. Thanks! I have a new piece to play through this month.
What will you make with those balls of yarn?