Today, my mom cleaned out the shed while I sifted through the boxes and surveyed the damage. A box of my books from boarding school broke open on the way out of the shed (the cardboard disaster in the front of this picture).
I took the books inside and am still deciding which ones to keep and which to give away. I have the hardest time parting with books.
I have memories with all of these. In my poetry workshop, we would sit by the huge bay windows in the library and read The Random House Book of Twentieth Century French Poetry aloud to each other. The verses were so terribly beautiful.
African writer Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard was one of my favorites from my Literature and the Writer class. Whimsical, meaningful, and hilarious. I also loved The Prime of Miss Jean Brody.
My copy of Jane Eyre, as you can see, is well worn. And well loved. With books, isn't it the same thing?
Later this evening, while I picked and ate cherries from our cherry tree, my mom rigged up this lawn ornament/outdoor umbrella. The tricycle lamp was my dad's creation. Instead of getting rid of it, she added an old squeegee and an umbrella. Wall-ah! A tricycle-lamp-umbrella-stand-lawn-ornament.
It was a beautiful day. I hope yours was, too.
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