Books
Reading on the lawn
A book, a blanket, and leaves that keep landing on the page.
Ingrid Lund
In September I take my book outside after lunch. The lawn is still warm. The birch drops yellow leaves on everything, including the page I am reading.
I leave them there as bookmarks. When I find one in the book in January, I remember the afternoon.
What I was reading
A long Russian novel I had started three times. Outside, with no phone, I finally got past page two hundred. Some books need weather.
