The record’s already on the turntable, and I place the needle carefully on Pretty in Pink, I figure the title of that song is innocuous and makes the band seem most appropriate for someone my age.
from We Run the Tides by Vendela Vida
This morning I drove home through a rainbow and that is possibly the most hopeful thing I’ve said in 10 months.
Jason once tried to sketch memory as if it were a real thing. He had drawn memory as a blanket, a thin fabric of once-upon-a-times and don’t-ever-forgets covering something bright and glowing—a soul, maybe—with rips where kids forgot things like the rumble of a person’s voice when your head rests on their chest or the smell of them when their arm is wrapped around you. ~from The Reckless Club by Beth Vrabel
Seven thirty in the morning on Thanksgiving Day and I have not yet released the chickens and ducks from their coop.
“Lilacs on a bush are better than orchids. And dandelions and devil grass are better! Why? Because they bend you over and turn you away from all the people in the town for a little while and sweat you and get you down where you remember you got a nose again. And when you’re all to yourself that way, you’re really proud of yourself for a little while; you get to thinking things through, alone. Gardening is the handiest excuse for being a philosopher. ~from Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine
Currently, there is some kind of earth digging machine resting on its haunches in our front yard.
‘Only—if you care for a thing long enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn’t it? And isn’t that the whole point of things—-beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty?’ ~from The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
Waiting for Rain
Back in Cambridge she stopped at Formaggio, the fancy neighborhood shop for cheeses—cheeses and crackers and several kinds of olives. They had cherry tomatoes that looked nice in the produce section, so she got those too, and a few other things for a light dinner tonight.
Standing in line to check out, she was mindlessly looking over at the flowers displayed in the corner of the shop. There were tulips, lilacs, peonies, irises. Gorgeous she thought. Hopeful, as spring flowers always are. She’d get some. For the party, of course. p 69-70 from Sue Miller’s forthcoming book, Monogamy
The other night we managed to see the comet NEOWISE. All five of us. In our driveway.