I pulled an old second hand copy of The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady off of the shelves today. I don't know who it belonged to before us but someone's delicately dried pansies tumbled out onto my lap.
I do like nature notebooks although I can't say this one is my favorites. The author quotes a lot of Chaucer, Wordsworth, and Browning, among others. Somehow I feel like I should be more appreciative of their words but honestly so far (I'm on April) none have really stirred me. The drawings, sketches, and penmanship on the other hand are gorgeous and a nice way to spend a sulky afternoon.
********
these words are best ignored
because
because
they're not about love
but about gritting your
teeth and holding on
for dear life
forgoing breath
in favor of another
they're about counting the
days
and seeing it through
doing time
until one day you wake up
empty
unable to breathe
at all
at all
